On This Day, 86 Years Ago: The Event That Changed My Family’s Destiny

The phone rang in the apartment at Silbergasse 43. Paul answered it, speaking in hushed tones. His six-year-old daughter, Doris, strained to hear, but couldn’t make out the words. She heard the apartment door open and listened intently as the sound of footsteps down the two flights of stairs faded into silence.

It would be ten months before Doris saw her father again.

Last night, I presented my family’s history at the Best Video Film and Cultural Center in Hamden, Connecticut. I woke up this morning realizing I had missed the opportunity to point out the significance of the timing of my author talk! Just one more serendipitous event in the journey of writing the story of my family’s perseverance through a horrible period in time.

The presentation went surprisingly well. The only glitch was my reading of the book chapter. I’m hoping most of the audience attributed my hesitant and choppy voice to emotion. In reality, I was struggling to see the words on the page due to the low light! Lesson learned.

The room was filled with family, friends, and even a few strangers who actually came to hear me speak about my novel, Nothing Really Bad Will Happen. Despite the serious nature of the subject—the Holocaust—there was a lot of laughter, as I shared personal anecdotes about my writing process and my family. I know the Holocaust is not funny. But my family is!

I brought along some artifacts as well. A hat from LITAL, the trunk that traveled with my great-grandparents as they escaped Vienna, Austria in 1941, and my grandfather’s Reisepass, his 1939 passport, stamped with the ubiquitous red J

I sold a few books, signed a few more, and made some great memories which I will treasure always. Never would I have imagined being where I am today. I guess Mrs. Knox, my fifth-grade teacher, knew what she was talking about when she told me I would be a writer someday. It only took sixty years.