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,
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
I was the kid who found them.
They are alive.
All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
Contact Bill Schechter