THE STORY OF THE SQUARE
Quilt 3, Square 10
Artist: Rita Glanz
The years have passed, and memories fade, however some memories will remain forever. I remember my mother crying, they had taken my father away. Three days later, he was released; he came home took a few belongings and left. He went to Switzerland, and was interned in a labor camp. We did not see him again until March 1947.
My brother and I were left with my mother and a nurse. At that time, I was not aware that my mother was dying of cancer. My last memory of her was standing at the top of the stairs hugging us and saying to me “don’t ever leave him,” referring to my four-year-old brother. We were then put on a train, and we had labels pinned on our clothes. Everything was a blur after that, as we were both crying.
My next memory is of the orphanage in London, and two people talking to me - of course I didn’t know a word they were saying. Finally, someone came who spoke German and explained that they were going to take me, and friends of theirs would come and get my brother. I remember holding on to the bed and screaming that I could not leave my brother. But I was hustled into a car, and off we went to Coventry. The following day, as promised, I did see my brother again, and was able to see him every weekend after that.
I was adopted by the two most wonderful people, Harry and Freda Morgan, and my brother by Harold and Marjorie Moore. We lived with these families all through the war until May of 1946 when again we were torn away from everything we had grown to love, and sent to America to an aunt and uncle we hardly knew in Birmingham, Alabama.
Of course we acclimated, and the years have passed. I am married, and have two children and two grandchildren, and live in Old Bridge, N.J. My brother is married and has three step children, and lives in Huntington, West Virginia.