Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Henry Glick's memoirs

The Rebbicyn

Usually, after regular school, I attended a private Hebrew school […]. On one early spring day, I went to school. The snow was still on the ground but slightly melting. My shoes were a little bit worn out, so by the time I arrived, me feet were wet and cold, but it was warm and cosy inside, I took off my coat, sat in a row with other kids. […] My feet started to warm up, it was very pleasant relief, but not for long. Suddenly, the door leading to the living quarters burst wide open, the rabbi’s wife appeared in the door opening with a red frown on her face, looked around, glanced at me, and pointing her little fat forefinger at me, shouted, “You, Glick, go home, home” she kept repeating and trying to approach me, but was blocked by the rabbi with his body and both hands begging her to calm down, pleading with her: “Please, Mamciu, please!” But it did not work.

Henry Glick 1926 - 2007, born in Sniatyn, wrote his memoirs in New York.

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