My father was at one time a handsome and elegant young man — tall, with broad shoulders and a forelock of curly red hair. He loved flirting with the girls. He told me that many young women had set their sights on him, but that he cared for only one of them — Geleh. She boasted a pair of hot flaming eyes and a head of silky blonde hair; she was sensuous, agile and clever. Her mother kept close watch on her and commented on every move she made — “Don’t go out with this one, don’t hang around with that one.”
You really need to find a way to cope with our harsh northern winters. Foremost, Lady Luck must help you land a good winter coat, and to my delight she did just that for me last year. Entirely by chance I stumbled into a fur shop, and as soon as we saw each other — the coat and I, that is — we knew that we were a fit, a perfect match, and that we would embark on an intimate and warm journey together.
One afternoon, Mendl called and asked me to throw on something nice and meet him at the newly refurbished offices, where they were holding a housewarming party. The little gathering was being held to celebrate the launching of their new business partnership.
What was the relationship between Miriam Hoffman’s mother and Stalin? They both used the same railway tracks: he on his way to the Kremlin, she on her way to the Gulag.
Every person has a unique history but the stories of those who endured and survived Hitler’s hell are not only singular but exceptional; a survivor’s past encompasses mysteries of a thousand and one horrors which would require many lifetimes to recount. My friend Lily herself stood at the entrance to the gas chambers, praying for an easy death. But she was spared, not because she was so unusually beautiful or clever or talented, but because the Angel of Death is a capricious character.