One of the pleasures of reading family history is the way it skips across boundaries. Instead of one thing, you get two: family and history. Read this way, the story of your clan can be thrilling. All at once, you find your ancestors hobnobbing with French Impressionists, corresponding with poets, or dodging the Gestapo. It’s hard to believe that you and Uncle Fred could share such gallant forebears. Continue reading
Tag: Holocaust
A few weeks ago, while writing about my “discovery” of my great-grandfather Isadore Katz’s birthplace of Várpalánka, I made a mistake. I wrote at the time that my family had not lost anyone in the Holocaust, but this statement was incorrect. I learned about my error several days later, when my mother reminded me of some earlier conversations we had had on the topic.
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