My life began in Poland during the Holocaust. Born in March 1940, six months after the German invasion, I lived “hidden on the surface” in Warsaw. My mother and I posed as Catholics 1942 until 1944. My father joined us after he escaped from the ghetto.

It’s the fall of 1944, and we are in a transit camp. Here, men are separated from women and children. Mother sends me to the men’s side to give Father something. The German guard waves me through. Once, twice, the third time, the guard yells at me, “If you go again, I will not let you return to your mother!” I am terrified. I run and huddle next to my mother, afraid to move.