From Mrs. P’s letter I am aware that she is afraid to travel.  She is waiting in front her apartment building.  Her manner of speech is rapid.  She acts hurried.  We climb four flights of stairs to her apartment. 

After Mrs. H. read about this inquiry in the political prisoners organization’s newsletter, she offered to participate with a letter that reflected her skepticism on anyone willing to hear their voice. In her opinion, few parents who have a daughter of the required age for this study are still alive. Only a few widows and their daughters are members of the […]

In 1951, my parents Bedřich and Jarmila Koller, and my seventeen year old sister were factory workers in Uherský Brod. We, the two younger sisters, Jarmila and Věra were still in elementary school. Our father was a member of the National Socialist Party, not to be confused with the German Nazi party, that was not popular with the Communists. That is why, […]

When I was in first grade, I saw a photograph of a girl who looked to be about seven. She had blond curly hair and Stalin was holding her next to him, dressed in his generalissimo uniform, with many medals on his chest.

When Mrs. O. arrives at the hotel, she orders salad with a comment, “I’ve got to lose some weight.” She suggests she will begin with her childhood, informing me “What I am going to tell you is what I heard from my grandma. I don’t remember because I was a baby when my dad, as a forester, found a wounded man who was shot by […]

Mrs. F’s house is near the center of this quaint village. The door is flanked open by a smiling middle aged woman, welcoming me warmly and leading me to a large light kitchen. A cross decorates the wall opposite the door. As we enter the kitchen, Mrs. F. tells me her husband is going to be with us while we talk.