Page 76 - Centrum Dialogu im. Marka Edelmana w Łodzi. Zofia Lubińska-Rosset - "Okruchy Pamięci".
P. 76

streets)  for  delicious  pastries!  And  something  else  stuck  in  my
            mind. When Dad came home from work, he would put me on his
            lap and take out of his pocket a small box with an image of a small
            white dog on top, which, when pressed properly, would put out
            a mint pill on the dog's tongue. I was always given just one, alt-
            hough he would gladly give me all of them at once, but in this case
            the most important thing was the ritual itself. A touching memory
            from this period is the PKO savings book of an account that my
            Parents set up for me, and paid 8 zlotys into it every month.
                 At that time, however, the most important thing for me was
            my friendship with Jurek Weltfrajd. Jurek was the son of my Par-
            ents' closest friends, Rachela and Jakub Weltfrajd. He was about
            three weeks younger than I was. I do not have any photo of him
            but I can picture him exactly in my mind. He was shorter than I,
            had a girlish beauty, black eyes, long eyelashes and jet-black hair
            with a fringe. Apparently, he was a lovely boy. He lived with his
            parents nearby, at 60 Kilinskiego St. We met almost every day,
            went to the park together or played at home, sometimes at his
            place, sometimes at mine. We shared secrets and, as children usu-
            ally do, had all sorts of silly ideas. We considered ourselves soul-
            mates, perhaps also because we were the only children of our par-
            ents. One could say we were inseparable. Our contacts were not
            only limited to everyday playtime, we also spent vacations together
            with  our  parents.  From  these  trips  I  remember  our  stay  in
            Przyglow, a small village near Piotrkow Trybunalski, and at the sea-
            side, in Karwia. Jurek's mother, Mrs. Rachela, was a teacher, I have
            no idea what Mr. Jakub did for a living.
                 I spent August (maybe only the second half?) of 1939 with my
            Mom in Zakopane, because the doctor recommended the change
            of climate after my whooping cough experience. We were there
            with Mrs. Weltfrajd and Jurek, who, just like I, was a convalescent
            of the same illness.
                 When returning home in the last days of August we were com-
            pletely unaware of the impending war (Dad could not reach us by



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