My children should be proud of their heritage. As I sit in the Atlanta Senior Living Home, I tell my children and grandchildren the tales of my youth. Believe me when I say that I was no ordinary child when I was young. I had no toys, sleepovers, games, or the joy of youth. I was born in 1905 and I lived in Russia I can’t even begin to describe the horrors that took place during this time period. The point of time in my life that I remember clearly is by the civil war between the Ukrainians, the Red Army and the White Army. I thank G-d every day for sparing my life, not once, but many times over. There were pogroms killing thousands of Jews, and many men women and children unfortunately didn’t make it. I cry every time I tell others my story, because my parents themselves were victims to these terrors; the soldiers of the White Army shot them because they supported the Red Army, who was the peasant and student communists. I miss them so much and there were times then that I didn’t want to live myself. I am an only child and all of my aunts and uncles were killed. It was terrible, how I was out all on my own, wandering the streets and running away from soldiers, watching other people killed mercilessly and houses burned. I am only thankful to G-d and an organization called HIAS, who helped me get over to America to start a new beginning.