• Stalin – my temporary father

    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.

  • They Called her a Kulak

    Mrs. G. waits for me at the railway station of her beautifully renovated holiday resort town. We agreed that I would recognize her by a white envelope in her hand. I knew about some of her experiences from her letter she sent after reading my advertisement in the newsletter. I am not sure why but I have a hard time not […]

  • The next horror came, when we were looking for a doctor to take care of our mother

    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, […]

  • Everybody is responsible for one’s luck, but totalitarians are responsible for misfortune of others.

    Or — every story has its prologue. The story of our family, persecuted during the communist era, is like a story of thousands of individuals and their families. The prologue of those family tragedies goes back to the 1930s when our future communist president Gottwald said in the Parliament, „ We Communists go to Moscow to learn how to break […]

  • The Traveler

    The chance to meet Mrs. V. has been uncertain from the beginning. She has retuned from visiting her son and daughter in the U.S. two days ago; they emigrated after the fall of communism. Over the phone, she let me know that she could talk to me only for one hour. She had too much work after […]

  • From the Farewell Letter

    My beloved mother, my dear children (his wife, father and brothers were in prison at the time, being tortured by interrogators), On 1/29/1955 the Supreme Court sentenced me to death. My dear mother, my dear children, I think about you all the time. I think about Lidunka (his wife), dad and my brothers. I love you all more than […]

  • The Mayor

    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.

  • One memory – one life

    I would like to show how one memory in life might become the meaning of life.  It was Christmas 1951 in Prague when my father was arrested and imprisoned.  I was born two moths premature in February 1952. After spending three month in hospital in incubator with lung infection, my mother has taken me to her mother, my grandma in Ceske […]

  • The Director’s Daughter

          When I searched for daughters of political prisoners, willing to talk about their experiences, one of the criteria was age 5—12 during the 1950s. Mrs. K. responded with a letter stating, “… I would like to participate even though I am older than the requested elementary school age.  My father was imprisoned for 5 years from 1949 to 1954 in Leopoldov, Ruzyn, at the end in […]

  • Daddy’s Defender

    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 […]


Some of us participated in research on the psychological effects on children in families persecuted by the communist regime. There were originally twelve of us (in 1999). Thus a group of women was formed, which has grown over time to sixty members (2008). We meet twice a year, and many of us have become friends.