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Diaspora

A Girl with an Apple

Published by the Guide-Post, of Florida (August 2006)

August 1942. Piotrkow, Poland. The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square. Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated. "Whatever you do," Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me, "don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen". I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker. An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down then asked my age. "Sixteen," I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood.

The roots of a Jewish family lead everywhere over the world

ROOTS IN THE IBERIAN PENINSULA - THE LIBERMANS FOR EXAMPLE

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