I WAS THE KID I was the kid who crawled under Passover tables, Grand St., Lower East Side. I was the kid who skipped Workmens' Circle Shule classes, basement, Gale Place, Bronx, N.Y. I was the kid whose Yiddish teacher had to drag him off the basketball court, playground, Van Cortlandt Park. I was the kid who saw a bag of letters in strange languages in Grandma Bessie's house, Apartment 6D. I was the kid who remembered these letters after his mother died, Croton-On-Hudson, N.Y. I was the kid who worked with his father, ten years, to have the letters translated and assembled, Brookline, Mass. I was the kid who will take a flight this November to Nuremberg, Germany. I was the kid who found them. They are alive.
September 25, 2004