This is the only picture I have of my mother. She is in the center. She was a stay at home kind of person in some ways, but she loved theater, too, and sometimes went out to cafes, which she loved. In December 1939 I came home from school one day, and the janitor stopped me at our front door. She said, “Tosia, you don’t have a mommy anymore.” Mom had been shot at home, by Germans who were taking away the furniture. She tried to stop them and they just shot her.I don't know where she's buried.We weren't allowed to have funerals. They took her to somewhere in Podgorze and there, I don't know, whether in a mass grave… And those Germans took the furniture anyway! I remember how Father, with his friend Dreher, who he had written the dictionary and published various papers with, chopped up everything that was left-- the built-in furniture, I mean, so the Germans wouldn't take it. They chopped up those cupboards of mine, everything, I remember, they chopped it up with an axe. Furs were burned, so as not to hand them over to the Germans: my Mom's furs.