BELLA BRYKS-KLEIN ORAL HISTORY

CHRISTA WHITNEY: This is Christa Whitney and today is July 25th, 2011.  I am here at the Yiddish Book Center in Amherst, Massachusetts with Bella Bryks-Klein and we are going to record an interview as part of the Yiddish Book Center's Wexler Oral History Project.  Bella, do I have your permission to record this interview?

BELLA BRYKS-KLEIN: Yes, of course.

CW:  A sheynem dank [Thank you very much].  (laughs) So, why don't we jump right in, and can you tell me about your father?  First of all, where was he born?

BBK: Mayn tate iz geboyrn gevorn in skarzisk-kamiena, poyln, april akhtsn nayntsn-tsvelf -- my father was born in the town of Skarżysko-Kamienna in Poland, April 18th, 1912.  His father was a bal-koyre [reader of the Torah in 1:00synagogue].  He had seven brothers and sisters.  At the age of fourteen, the family moved to Łódź, and that's where he started to develop his artistic talents.  He joined the Yiddish theater.  He became a retsitator [reciter], which means he would read literary compositions.  And he did that and also discovered that he could write poetry.  And he issued his first book of poems, "Yung grin may," "Young Green May," in Łódź in 1939.  And as I mentioned to you before, the book actually was lost.  I had remembered seeing it as a child in my father's library.  But then, I could find no trace of it, despite the 2:00fact that I transferred his library to my home in Petah Tikva.  And just recently, I discovered it, surprisingly so, at the library in the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York.  So, I made a photocopy and I just donated it to the Yiddish Book Center.  So, now you have a complete set of my father's works.

CW:  A sheynem dank.  Can you tell me a little more about -- do you know what your father's family -- what their business was in or anything before --BBK: As far as I know, my father told me that his father had sold lumber, that he wasn't rich or anything like that.  They were Hasidic.  My father had peyot [sidelocks], sidelocks.  I think he was one of the first ones in the family to actually shave them off.  His mother was a housewife and they were not wealthy, 3:00at all. 

CW:  Can you describe him to me?  What did he look like?

BBK: Wow.  (laughs) My father was short.  He had wavy hair.  He had deep blue eyes, which I apparently inherited from him.  He had a very good sense of humor, but he was also serious.  From my childhood, I can remember him sitting at the dining room table and writing.  I think for most of my childhood and my sister's, my sister Miriam Serele, who is one year and five months older than me, we remember our father having a phenomenal memory, reliving his experiences, 4:00writing about the Holocaust, about his own experiences and my mother's.  And my mother was very protective of him and of his writing.  Even though she herself was a Holocaust survivor, she did not speak about her experiences as much, whereas, on the other hand, my father did not stop speaking about his experiences.  And I think we sometimes hear of the Holocaust survivor who wants to forget and blot out the memories.  My father was the opposite.  Perhaps looking back now, it seems to me that he spent four terrible, difficult, starving years in the Łódź Ghetto, from May 1940 to August 1944.  And this 5:00affected the rest of his life.  I think, psychologically, he never really left the ghetto.  I remember, I think it was in the '60s, we were in the Catskills and we were waiting for a bus and my father suddenly went to the side of the road, tore off some leaves, came to me and he said, "Du zeyst?  Dus hob ikh gegesn in geto.  You see?  These are the leaves we ate in the ghetto."  And reading his books about Łódź Ghetto, they ate beet leaves and radish leaves because, unfortunately, there was no food there.  He was a good father.  He was a devoted husband.  But, as I said, the main thing we remember was his dedication to memorializing the victims of the Holocaust.  And he was also a Yiddishist, which means for him, Yiddish was very important.  And I'll go over 6:00to Yiddish a little bit.  Far mayn tate, iz zayer vikhtik geveyn az zayne tekhter -- beyle in miryam -- zoln kenen redn yidish [For my father, it was very important that his daughters -- Beyle and Miriam -- should be able to speak Yiddish].  Er iz zayer shtolts.  He was very proud.  Er iz zayer shtolts geveyn mit indz ven er iz aroys in er hot gekent redn mit indz yidish [He was very proud that when we went out, he could speak in Yiddish with us] -- Wow!  And I'd like to point out: today, when people speak about children speaking Yiddish, it's more of a Hasidic religious Yiddish.  Ours was a secular Yiddish.  For my father, it was very important that we know about religion.  We were both sent to what we call today parochial schools.  Yiddish day schools. 

CW:  Velkhe [Which]?

BBK: I went to Manhattan Day School on the West Side and my father arranged for 7:00a scholarship for my sister to go to Ramaz, on the East Side.  It wasn't possible to get both girls in the same school because of the scholarship.  We didn't have money.  M'ken nisht makhn a parnose farkoyfn yidishe bikher [You can't make a living selling Yiddish books].  My mother worked, at times.  And my father basically devoted his whole life after the war to letting the world know what the Nazis did to the Jews.  Mayn tate hot tomid gezogt, "Nisht nor di natsis -- di natsis un zeyere mithelfer."  Vayl zenen geven a sakh vos hobn mitgeholfn.  In er hot gegloybt tsulib dem hot got im gelost iberleybn der 8:00milkhome -- keday er zol kenen dertsayln di velt vos iz geveyn -- in keday es zol vider nisht zayn.  [My father always said, "Not only the Nazis -- the Nazis and their collaborators."  Because there were those who collaborated.  And he thought that God had let him survive the war for this -- so that he could tell the world what happened -- and so that it wouldn't happen again.]

CW:  Er iz geveyn frum [Was he religious]?

BBK: Nayn.  Er iz nisht geven frum.  Dos iz take interesant -- far im iz zayn vikhtik vi di kinder zoln visn, er zol visn, ober m'miz es nisht oysfirn.  Dos hayst, s'iz vikhtik tsu visn -- lemoshl, shabes in der fri, hot er zayer lib gehat gayn in shil -- ober nisht tsu ayn shil, er iz koydem arayn lemushl in reform shil, in aynshe-khesed, nokhdem arayn in a shtibl, nokhdem arayn nokh in a-- vayl dort hot er gekent reydn mit yidn, shmisn, hern a yidish vort, dertsayln, lernen epes.  In dernokh iz er gegangen arayn in gesheft, arosgenimen tsen tsent, un gekoyft a tsaytung (laughs) af shabes.  Ober dos iz 9:00nisht vikhtik.  Deriker iz tsu zayn tsvishn yidn. [No. He wasn't observant. It's actually interesting -- for him, it was important that his children should know, that he should know, but you didn't have to observe it.  Meaning that it's important to know -- for example, on Shabbos morning, he liked to go to synagogue -- but not to one synagogue, he was always going, for example, to a Reform synagogue, Ansche Chesed, and then to a small Hasidic house of prayer, and then to another-- because that's where he could speak Yiddish, chat, hear a Yiddish word, tell stories, learn something.  And then he'd go into a store, take out ten cents, and buy a newspaper (laughs) on Shabbos.  But that wasn't important.  The important thing was to be among Jews.]  (laughs)

CW:  What were his writing habits?  I mean, was there a certain pattern he had when he would sit down and write at certain times, or --

BBK: As far as I remember, he virtually wrote almost all the time.  But perhaps, the best was in the morning.  I remember that before he would sit down, he would always put on a pressed white shirt, a tie, a vest.  He had respect for the characters that he was writing about, for the experiences, and he would write with a Parker pen, usually in turquoise.  And I remember he would sometimes want to add a paragraph.  So, of course, there were no word 10:00processors or computers in the '50s and the '60s.  So, he would take a pair of scissors and just glue in an extra piece of paper or add to the side of it.  He has manuscripts that you have little pieces of paper to fold in.  And I can't think of a specific time of day because we always saw our father writing.  And he had a desk, but he never used it.  He always liked to sit in the living room at the large dining room table, where it was more spacious, and he had his chair there and would fill half the table with his papers.  And we would let him sit quietly.  And when my sister and I were in the other room and we would be playing and we'd make a little too much noise, my mother would run in, (whispers) "Sha, papa shraybt [Shush, papa's writing]!"  So, we would continue 11:00to play quietly.  So, the whole house was basically based upon my father.  And we tried to do everything so that he'd be able to continue writing, which was his life's work.

CW:  Tsi hot er gearbet mit zhurnaln oder tsaytungen [Did he work with journals or newspapers]?

BBK: Er hot-- ahits zayne bikher, hot er oykh geshribn artiklen, tsikeshikt dertsaylingen tsi farshidene tsaytungen, zhurnaln, mit "der tug," "oyfn shvel," "lebns-fragn" in isrul, in pushet iber d'gantser velt.  S'iz oykh geveyn "arbolitas argentinas" -- dos iz a yidishe kinder-tsaytung vos hot oykh 12:00tsugeshikt dertseylungen.  In yetst vos ikh forsh az tikh antplekhn az mayn tate hot zayr a sakh geshribn zayne maynungen -- lemushl ven isrul hot gevolt makhn batsiungen -- diplomatic relations -- mit daytshland, mayn tate iz keygn geveyn, er hot nisht gevolt.  Ven m'hot ongehoybn makhn "memorials" far di khurbn karbones, iz er oykh geveyn kegn vayl er hot gezugt az dus vet gornisht helfn -- a vus git es?  Es git nisht genig.  Er hot oykh geshribn vegn deym ven m'hot gehat a yortsayt, lemoshl nokh der varshever geto, ober a khurbn yortsayt -- hot far mayn tate zayer geshtert, m'hot es gemakht lemushl "in the 13:00Grand Ballroom" mit "dinner" in m'hot forgelaynt, ober a gelitener, ayner vos iz take dort geveyn, "Ikh bin nisht farbeytn.  Hot m'nisht tsigelozt" -- er zol dort dertayln.  In mayn tate hot nisht gekent farshtayn, "Vi azoy ken men reydn vegn khurbn -- m'hot azoy gehingert, un zey zitsn un zey esn du a gantse groyse moltsayt."  Dos iz far im shver gevayn.  In er hot vegn dem geshribn. [He-- other than his books, he wrote articles, sent stories to various newspapers, journals, like "Der Tog," "Afn Shvel," "Lebns-fragn" in Israel, and really all over the world.  There was also "Arbolitas Argentinas" -- that was a Yiddish children's newspaper to which he also sent stories.  And now that I'm researching, it's coming out that my father also wrote a lot about his thoughts -- for example, when Israel wanted to have diplomatic relations with Germany, my father was against it, he didn't want it.  When they started making memorials for the victims of the Holocaust, he was also against it because he said that this wouldn't help anything -- what does it accomplish?  It isn't enough.  He also wrote, for example, when there was an anniversary, like for the Warsaw ghetto or another Holocaust anniversary -- it really upset him that they had it, for example, in the Grand Ballroom with dinner and they read some things, but a survivor, someone who had really been there, "I wasn't invited.  They didn't let me" -- let him tell his story.  And my father couldn't understand, "How can they talk about the Holocaust -- when we were starving, and they are sitting there eating a huge meal?"  It was really hard for him.  And he wrote about that.]

CW:  Tsi zenen mentshn -- andere shraybers -- gekumen in shtub [Did people -- other writers -- come to your house]?

BBK: Mir hobn gevoynt in New York, Upper West Side, fin yor nayn un fertsik.  Far dem, zenen mir geveyn in shveydn, ober dos kin men shoyn bazinder 14:00dertsayln.  Zenen geven a sakh yidishe shrayber -- arayngekimen in shtib zenen nisht azoy fil, ober mir hobn zikh getrofn oder in Garden Cafeteria, vos iz geven bay der redaktsye fin forverts, oder mir zenen gegangen tsu zayer haym.  Ikh bin geven lemoshl ba itsik bashevis singer in der haym, ikh bin geven bay shiye tenenboym, ikh-- ben-tsiyon goldberg, vos hot khasene gehat fun der tokhter fin sholem alaykhem.  Ikh bin geveyn bay im in der haym.  Bay arn tsaytlin bin ikh geveyn, rayze zhikhlinski iz geven ba indz a sakh mol.  S'iz geven blume shtoltsenberg, rivke mestl, yankev mestls almone, lutski.  In mayn 15:00tate, in yene tsaytn, hot gehat a zayer giter khaver, beys yud bialistotski.  In a merstn vos hot geholfn mayn tatn in mir hobn azoy lib gehat: avrum rayzn.  Poshet ikh trakht vegn im, vert mir zeyer git af der neshome.  Avrom rayzn hot geholfn mayn tate mit zayn ersht bukh.  Mayn tate iz geveyn a ying shrayber, gekimen kayn amerike, nisht gekent bklal anglish.  A nay velt.  Mitgebrengt mit zikh gornisht.  Gornisht.  Di eltern hobn gornisht gehat.  In avrom rayzn hot geholfn mayn tate oykh in velt fun yidish in oykh az zayn ersht bukh zol dershinen.  Ahits deym, s'iz geven mani layb in hey leyvik, pushet zayr a sakh 16:00yidishe shrayber vos farshteyt zikh hayom, haynt (laughs) zaynen haynt neylim gevorn. [We lived in New York, Upper West Side, from 1949.  Before that, we were in Sweden, but I can talk about that separately.  There were a lot of Yiddish writers -- but not many came to our house, we either met at the Garden Cafeteria, which is near the Forverts building, or we went to their homes.  For example, I was at Isaac Bashevis Singer's home, I was at Shea Tenenbaum, I-- Ben-Zion Goldberg, who married Sholem Aleichem's daughter.  I was at his place.  I was at Aaron Zeitlin's, at Reyzl Zhikhlinski's many times.  There was Bluma Stolzenberg; Rivke Mestel, Yankev Mestel's widow; Lutzky.  And my father, back then, had a really good friend, B. J. Bialostotzky.  And the one who helped my father the most, and who we really loved: Avrom Reyzen.  Just thinking about him warms my soul.  Avrom Reyzen helped my father with his first book.  My father was a young writer, newly arrived in America, and didn't know English.  A new world.  He didn't bring anything with him.  Nothing.  My parents had nothing.  And Avrom Reyzen helped my father both in the Yiddish world and in publishing his first book.  Other than that, there was Mani Leib and H. Leivick, really just a lot of writers who, of course, hayom [Hebrew: today], nowadays (laughs) are gone.

CW:  Tsi hot ir gehat batsiyungen mit di shraybers [Did you have relationships with the writers]?

BBK: Hob ikh gehat?  (wipes tears)

CW:  Yo [Yes].

BBK: Koydemkol bin ikh geveyn a klayn meydele.  Ober in di shpeyterdike yorn, ven ikh geveyn in universitet -- a, nayn, s'iz geven in "high school" -- ikh gloyb, take ikh gedenk shoyn nisht.  Ikh bin geveyn eyner fun di redaktorn fin di tsaytung fun di shule, hob ikh intervyuirt etlekhe far di tsaytung.  Dos hayst az ikh hob oykh gehat batsiungen mit zay. [First of all, I was a young girl.  But later on, when I was in university -- oh, no, it was in high school -- I think, I don't really remember.  When I was one of the editors of the school newspaper, I interviewed a few of them for the newspaper.  So that means that I did have relationships with them.]  Yeah, s'iz geven zayer interesant 17:00[it was very interesting].

CW:  Can you tell me a little bit about your mother?

BBK: With great pleasure.  Mayn mame iz geven a zayer zayer ibergegeybener [My mother was very very devoted], very devoted.  Perhaps at this opportunity I'll tell you, actually, how they met.  In my opinion, if it hadn't been for the war, there's no way they would have met.  My mother was born in [Letke?], in Transylvania, in Romania.  She herself came from a religious home with nine 18:00children.  Afterwards, the family moved to Oradea Mare near a small town, Tășnad.  And my mother had a very, very sad childhood.  Her mother, Mishke, passed away young, in the '30s, and the father was left with all the children.  And when he remarried, his wife was not willing to take all the children.  So, he stood up in the synagogue and asked who wants to take his children.  Makes me very sad.  And my mother was about fourteen when she was sent to an aunt and uncle.  And they did not treat her well.  So, about a year or two later, another cousin who saw what was going on rescued her from there.  And my mother 19:00was in Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen while my father -- again, they hadn't met yet -- my father was in the Łódź Ghetto and in Auschwitz and in work camps, all of which he writes about later.  I'll tell you about that.  And my mother was liberated and the Red Cross brought her to Sweden, to Stockholm.  At the same time, my father was liberated from the work camps and he, too, was brought by the Red Cross to Sweden.  And there were groups of what's called "sh'erit hapletah," the survivors.  And at such an evening, my father had come to recite and to encourage those who lost everything to continue, to go on with their lives.  And they met, they fell in love, they got married at the Great Synagogue in Stockholm.  And my sister, Miriam Serele was born in April '49.  20:00I was born in November 2nd, 1948, also in Stockholm.  And my parents actually gave me a middle name.  My name is Bella Svea, which I don't use much.  S-v-e-a, which means Swedish, 'cause my parents wanted me to have a souvenir that I was born there.  And my father was corresponding with the YIVO, with Max Weinreich, and he gave them documents and other artifacts for their offices in the YIVO.  And Max Weinreich wrote to my father that, "If you want to be a Yiddish writer, there's no future in Sweden.  There's no future in Israel.  Just in New York City."  So, the YIVO and the HIAS, H-I-A-S, Hebrew Immigrant 21:00Aid Society, brought the family to New York in March '49.  I'm sorry, I said my sister was born in '49.  That's incorrect.  It was '47.  My mistake.  The family came to New York in March '49 and my mother insisted that we continue to keep a kosher home.  We had separate dishes.  Every Friday night, my father made kiddush, my mother lit the candles.  We had challah.  We had goldene yoykh, the gold traditional chicken soup, and my mother instilled, what would we say, an ekht yidishe heym [authentic Jewish home].  And I think it's important to mention that my father also insisted that we speak only Yiddish at home.  We were not permitted to speak English.  Again, just even amongst ourselves, between my sister and myself and, of course, my parents, we were only permitted 22:00to speak Yiddish.  And one of the things -- well, when I try to think back what we got from my parents, my father gave us the intellect, Yiddish language, literature.  But my mother taught us to be mentsh.  My mother also taught us that we need to give tzedakah [charity], to take care of the less fortunate.  And my parents both were very liberal.  What I mean by that is that we were brought up on the Upper West Side where, of course, there are different kinds of nationalities.  And in our building, we had Hispanics, we had what we call 23:00today African Americans and we had very good friends down the hall, African Americans, and we used to go ice-skating with them every weekend.  And my parents didn't feel anything was wrong with that, even though we were Jewish, they were also non-Jewish, and also dark-skinned.  It was just something very acceptable and great.  And I thanked my parents for giving us this wonderful outlook on life, that everybody is a person and you should accept them, and I passed that on to my children as well.  One of the things I would like to mention -- and if you'll permit me, I'd like to sing something that my mother had sung to me.

CW:  Please!

BBK: Every Shabbos night in Transylvania, my mother used to sing with her mother and I would imagine her mother had learned it from her mother or grandmother.  24:00It's something called "Got fun avrom [God of Abraham]."  Shabbos night, we used to wait for the three stars to go out -- to come out, rather.  My mother used to take me on one side, my sister on the other side, after she had put a white tikhele, kerchief on her head.  She used to draw us close, close her eyes, and she used to sing with us this blessing, prayer melody that she had learned at home.  (singing) "Got fin avrom fin yitshok un fin yakev,/bahit un bashirem dayn libfolk yisroel,/vegn daynem loyb./Az der liber shabes koydesh gayt iber,/di zise libe vokh zol undz kumen/tsi gezint, tsi leybn, ts'sholem, tsu parnose/tsi git di psires-toyves./Omeyn v'omeyn s'zol vern vort,/melekh 25:00ha'meshiakh ben-dovid zol kimen dos yor./Kimen zol er tsuforn/in zayne shayne tsaytn./Kimen zol tsuforn/in zayne shayne yorn./Eli-novi kimt in z'hoz arayn,/nemt di bekher in d'rekhter hant,/makht a brokhe ibern gantsn land./A brokhe zol hoykh zayn,/iber indz ales zol es zayn./Eli-novi kimt in z'hoz arayn/brengt tsi indz ales gits arayn./Eliahu-hanovi geyt fun d'hoz aroys,/trogt ales beys aroys./Tir in toyer do shteyt af ofn tsu dir,/futer, al rakhmin shaday,/in zibetn himl tien mir ale hofn./ Tir in toyer do shteyt af ofn tsu dir,/futer, al rakhmin shaday,/in zibetn himl tien mir ale hofn./ Tir in toyer do shteyt af ofn tsu dir,/futer, al rakhmin shaday,/in zibetn himl tien mir ale hofn./A gite vokh, a gezinte vokh, a gebentshte vokh./Omeyn! [God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob/Protect and shield your dear people,/who praise you./As the holy Shabbos is ending,/as the sweet, dear week begins,/bring us good health, life, peace, livelihood, good news./Amen and amen! May it come true./May Messiah the King, son of David come this year./May he come traveling,/and bring beautiful times./May he come traveling,/and bring beautiful years./Eliahu the prophet comes into our house,/takes the goblet in his right hand,/and makes a blessing over all the land./May the blessing be loud,/and may it be over all of us./Eliahu the prophet comes into our house,/bringing everything good inside with him./Eliahu the prophet goes out of the house,/bringing everything evil out with him./Doors and gates stand open for you,/Father, God of mercy,/we send our hopes into the seventh heaven./Doors and gates stand open for you,/Father, God of mercy,/we send our hopes into the seventh heaven./Doors and gates stand open for you,/Father, God of mercy,/we send our hopes into the seventh heaven./A good week, a healthy week, a blessed week./Amen.]"  I can't do it without having my eyes closed.  That's how I remember it.  And I've been told that this is something rare because this is a melody which is from the previous century, and 26:00perhaps the one before that.

CW:  I know that she had a hard time in her early years, but did your mother ever -- did she tell stories of her childhood?

BBK: Almost never.  Compared to my father, my mother wanted to become an American.  She wanted to learn English, she wanted to go on, she wanted to perhaps live a newer, easier life.  My father refused to.  He still lived in the world of his experiences of the war.  And I think part of it is, he was afraid to leave that world because he was still writing in it.  He was also afraid to speak English 'cause he thought for every English word that goes in, a Yiddish word is gonna come out.  And he tried to protect the vocabulary that he 27:00had.  So, my mother, sometimes when my father would tell us a story about it, my mother would say something, "Nayn, nayn, dertsayl nisht.  Don't tell them.  It's a little too difficult."  And my father used to say, "Nayn, zay mizn visn.  No, they must know."  So, we were born and raised -- (laughs) somehow, there was a balance there after all. 

CW:  Were there stories that you remember as particularly -- that he would tell you often or that were especially important for him to pass on to you?

BBK: I think most of the stories he wrote in his seven books.  What my father used to do, rather than speak to us about it, they used to write and when he 28:00finished a chapter, he used to call the family together, either around the table in the warm kitchen or sitting on the beds, in our bedroom.  My sister Miriam and I shared a bedroom.  So, we used to sit on the beds and he would take the chapter, read it to us -- in Yiddish, of course.  We knew Yiddish, so there was no problem there.  And he would read it to us and then ask us our opinion.  "Is it too short?  Is it too long?"  For example, he has a story which we know today as "The Cupboard of the Ghetto."  "Shank in geto."  And this is about a couple in the Łódź Ghetto who, of course, was hungry and wanted to eat.  But they were not permitted to burn any wood.  They were not allowed to have wood.  So, they had a cupboard and every time, they used to take off a little 29:00from the side or shelf, from behind, just so that if somebody would come in to check, there would be no evidence.  There would still be a complete cupboard.  And they used to use this wood to light a fire to boil their radish leaves or beet leaves.  And when he finished reading the story, he asked us to suggest a title.  And I remember I was maybe four or five years old and I said, "Di shank vus kokht, The Cupboard That Cooks."  (laughs) And my father thought that was a nice idea, but it was too abstract for him.  And this is actually one of the characteristics of his writing.  He wrote simply.  He did not want to write too fancy and highfalutin words.  He wanted everyone to be able to 30:00understand.  He thought the best way to write is simple.  And he also thought that rather than writing about millions, it's best to write about one single family: one mother, one father, one child.  And this single person will symbolize all the others and it will have a stronger effect.  Another characteristic, if I may, is -- I believe optimism is a leitmotif which threads through all his writings.  And it's amazing to me how even under such difficult circumstances, he believed, they believed that any day the war would be over and 31:00b'chol dor v'dor kameleinu l'charoteinu, there's always -- in every generation, someone comes who tries to destroy the Jewish people.  It's happened before.  We will overcome.  We'll go on.  We'll continue living.  And my father also -- even in the ghetto, in 1940, he wrote one of his famous poems, "Nisht fartsfayflen," "Do Not Despair," which he again read to encourage others.  "Nisht fartsfayflen/s'iz nur a durkhgeyendike vint./Nisht fartsfayflen, mayn kind./Mir zaynen alte baymer,/tif in brayt in d'erd farvortslt/mit groyse kroynen vos batsirn di velt./Shtarke shturem-vintn kenen fin indz di bleter opraysn, di tsvaygndl brekhn,/ober nisht di kroynen./Shtarke, tife farvolslte 32:00beymer,/kenen vintn nisht opraysn,/nisht oysvortsln./Mir zaynen beymer eybike,/vos gibn di velt peyres-shpayzndike./Mir veln aybik zayn./S'iz nur a durkhgayendike vint,/nisht fartsfayflen, mayn kind. [Do not despair,/it's only a passing wind./Do not despair, my child./We are old trees,/deep and wide are our roots/with large treetop crowns that adorn the world./Strong storm winds can tear off our leaves, break branches,/but not our crowns./Strong and deeply-rooted trees are we,/the wind cannot tear us out,/cannot uproot us./We are eternal trees,/that provide nourishing fruit for the world./We will be here forever./It's only a passing wind,/do not despair, my child.]"  This was also translated into English.  "Do Not Despair."  And again, this amazes me, how despite everything that he was going through, he was still optimistic and he believed.  Maybe this is what helped him live through the war. 

CW:  Well, there aren't many survivors from the Łódź Ghetto, as we know.  I'm wondering if the characters in his stories were people that he knew or that 33:00he had met there?

BBK: These are actual people who existed.  Some of them have the same name.  And the reason I know that is because some of these characters also appear in other people's books.  For example, Yankele the folksinger.  Yankele was the folksinger and he made up songs about Rumkowski and Gila Flam used it in her book, "Singing for Survival."  I had met her in Jerusalem.  She used some of my father's books and songs in her book.  Alter Schnor -- and Miryem Ulinover was a poet.  Here was a -- what was called a literarishe krayz.  There was a literary circle in the ghetto and people -- I mean, the poets used to come to Miryem Ulinover and read to her their poetry.  They used to have meetings there.  Well, today perhaps it's called testimonial literature.  But I always 34:00considered my father's books historical fiction in the sense of the events actually took place, the people existed -- perhaps not by these names, but a lot of the events that took place, for example, in "Oyf kiddush hashem [religious martyrdom in times of persecution, lit. "the sanctification of the name"]" that he writes about Auschwitz were things that my mother had seen and told my father about in the women's camp.  Last year, my sister and I went to Poland to trace my father's footsteps.  And I'm still researching that.  I would like to compare if the events in my father's "Di papirene kroyn [The paper crown]" in "Di kayser in geto [The king of the ghetto]" are actual historical events, comparing the dates and the deportations and the protests.

CW:  Can you tell me more about the trip?  What was the motivation and what 35:00did you find?

BBK: I have always known that my father had buried his writings in the Łódź Ghetto.  When he was deported with the last transport to Auschwitz in August '44, they were not permitted, of course, to take anything with them.  And my father buried his writings.  This was uncovered when they were cleaning the ghetto and it was brought to the Jewish Historical Institute in Warsaw.  My father always said his writings were there.  His original "Geto fabrik, zeks un zibetsik [Ghetto factory 76]" was discovered there, and he told me that he has other writings there, except he himself refused to step on Polish soil.  He 36:00refused to return to Germany or to Poland.  Wouldn't hear of it at all.  And I knew that one day, I would be doing it.  Of course, this was postponed because I was raising children, parnose [livelihood], and last year, I said to my sister, "That's it.  We're not postponing it.  We're going."  So, I organized the itinerary, tracing his footsteps, and the first thing we did was we went to the Jewish Historical Institute.  I had written them, of course, ahead of time.  And I was amazed, amazed.  There were over two hundred documents there of my father's, some of them completely, completely new to me.  Never published before.  And I can't understand why my father never really pursued the matter 37:00-- maybe it was too emotional.  In any case, "The Ghetto Factory," they did send him a copy of his original manuscript, which he published.  But all the other material, he never saw again.  Following that, we went to his hometown, Skarżysko-Kamienna.  Unfortunately, there's still -- the main street of the Jewish houses, Trzecia Maja, that's the name of the street, the Third of May, some of the houses are still there.  Of course, there are no Jews.  There's no cemetery.  The only thing they have is in one of the squares, some of the survivors of Skarzysk came back and they put a small black obelisk in one of the squares.  And it says in Hebrew and English and Polish, "Do not forget the Jews 38:00of Skarżysko-Kamienna, 1939-1945, who were exterminated by the Nazis."  And it was very, very difficult for me and my sister.  And then, we went to Łódź.  We had a very good guide who actually wrote the book on the subject.  And I tried to retrace some of the places, but unfortunately, the streets themselves in Łódź are not marked.  I mean, they tried to forget (laughs) that part.  But the guide herself -- if you have a guidebook, you could perhaps follow it.  And I tried to identify some of the places from my father's book, and there was one place where Rumkowski always used to stand and speak to the Jews of the 39:00ghetto.  And the building itself was still there.  And Joanna Podolska, our guide, I asked her -- that I would really like to see that.  She brought me there and I was looking at the building.  The building was somewhere in the distance and there was this large area where the Jews had apparently stood to hear him.  And he had terrible speeches there, like the Szpera, when he asked them to give over their children and the elders.  And I was standing there, she was at the side, speaking to some ladies who had no idea why anyone would want to come and see this area.  And she was telling them that this used to be a place where Rumkowski used to stand.  And I was there and I was looking and saying to myself, I wonder, was my father standing here?  Was he looking?  And just then, as I was looking at the building, suddenly, I see a cat coming across, looking at it, and then the cat suddenly went inside one of the windows, 40:00sort of behind a bar.  And I said, "Oh, my God, a kats in geto [a cat in the ghetto]."  And at that moment, I felt there was a symbol that my father said to me, "I'm here, I see, you're okay.  Good that you came back, good that you're following my footsteps."  And I have a picture of that cat and looks -- almost exactly like the cat here.  The forty-five degree position of the cat and the wires, it was just amazing to me.  But I felt very good that I must be doing something right.  And then, we went to Krakow and we saw Auschwitz.  And I tried to, again, understand from his books.  But unfortunately, Auschwitz is 41:00arranged in such a way that if you don't have a guide, you can't really see where the men's camp is, where the women's camp is, where the Luková was, where the barrack head slept.  He writes about Mengele and the train tracks.  My mother told me -- this is one of the things she did speak about.  She was very much afraid of dogs, 'cause she remembered when she got off the train, the -- (growls) she used to say that the dogs were there, that if anybody would go to the wrong line, they would stick a dog on them.  So, to the end of her days, she would always cross the street if there was a dog coming.  My mother used to say that Mengele was very handsome.  He used to stand there, right, left.  But when you go to Auschwitz, there's no mention of Mengele.  It seems like they diluted it.  They don't want to talk about the cruelty.  They're just very matter-of-fact about -- they talk about the political prisoners, but they don't 42:00talk much about the deportations.  And even the crematoria, you don't really see a sign.  Suddenly, you walk in and you see it, and I would change things a little bit.  And we went back to Poland and saw where my father had been.  But I also did not feel friendliness.  I didn't feel that anybody was really happy to see me.  Even in the historical institute, where I think they should be happy that someone like me comes back after, I don't know, sixty years or something and wants to research -- I felt hostility rather than -- no one even smiled. 

CW:  There's one newspaper clipping that I found in one of these books that I was wondering if we could look at.  It's right in here.  It was actually just tucked into that newspaper and into the --

BBK: Well --

CW:  -- book.

BBK: -- my father wrote seven books.  Can I mention the books?

CW:  Sure.

BBK: Okay, the first book, "Oyf kiddush hashem," which, in my opinion, is the strongest book.  Here, he talks about Auschwitz.  And in this book, he also includes the novella, "A kats in geto," which was translated several times, years later, as "A Cat in the Ghetto." 

CW:  And the stories of Auschwitz were your mother's stories?  Were they --

BBK: Well, it's both together, but he writes mainly about the women's camps.  About the Łódź Ghetto, he wrote two books, which he considered part one and a sequel, "Der kayser in geto" and "Di papirene kroyn," "The Paper Crown," which talks about the elder of the ghetto, Mordechai Rumkowski, which even today is a very controversial character.  People are not sure whether he was good to the Jews or better with the Nazis.  But my father, in the end, writes about him with sympathy.  There are some who say that the Nazis sent him to the gas chambers, I mean Rumkowski.  But my father writes that Rumkowski himself felt guilt at the end and added his own name to the list.  Okay, you wanted me to check this clipping.  Okay, one of the things my father used to do is when 45:00there were articles about him or about his books -- so, he always used to cut them out, glue them to paper, and make photocopies to distribute.  Okay, so these are two small Yiddish articles that appeared in the Yiddish newspaper, "Der Tog," "The Day," Jewish journal, in 1968.  Okay, we'll start with this one.  "Barimter hebreisher poet shin sholem, vegn 'geto fabrik' [Well-known Hebrew writer Sh. Sholem, on 'The Ghetto Factory']."  This is -- Yiddish translation of a letter he received from a Hebrew poet, Shin Shalom, praising his "Geto fabrik 76."  It's called "Ghetto -- 76," 'cause it was actually the seventy-sixth ghetto factory.  Rumkowski had this idea that if the Jews work and sell their goods to the Nazis and the Nazis profit, this will keep the Jews 46:00living longer and they won't be murdered. 

CW:  There's a note.  I wondered if you could read the note on the bottom of that, the article, from Bashevis? 

BBK: Isaac Bashevis Singer was a colleague of my father's we lived 102nd Street, he lived on Eighty-Sixth Street.  And he wrote about my father's ghetto factory.  "The poem, 'Ghetto Factory 76' by Rachmil Bryks, discovered at the place of the former ghetto of Łódź, is not only an important historical document but also an original work about Jewish catastrophe at the hands of the Nazis.  Only a highly gifted poet who has himself experienced this could so masterfully depict the horror of the Jewish ghetto.  It is a duty to read this 47:00work.  It will be remembered for generations."  I also have that in Yiddish, I believe.  "Di poeme, 'Geto fabrik zeks un zibetsik' fin rakhmil briks vos iz opgefinen gevorn oyf der shetakh fun der gevesener geto iz say a vikhtike historisher dokument in say an originele shafung vegn yidishn khurbn inter di natsis.  Bloyz a hoykh bagapter poet vos hot alayn ibergeleybt dos hot gekent azoy maysterish shildern dem dozikn shoyder fun der yidisher geto.  Dos verk iz a khoyv tsu laynen.  Dos verk vet gedenkt vern durkh doyres."  "Yitshok bashevis, detsember, nayntsn zekhtsn zekhtsik [Isaac Bashevis, December 1966]."  Yeah, and in addition, if I may just tell you about my father's other 48:00books --

CW:  Sure.

BBK: -- "Di vos zenen nisht geblibn," "Those Who Didn't Survive."  My father had written to me that this is actually the foundation for all his other books.  "Di vos zenen nisht geblibn" tells about his town, Skarżysko-Kamienna, and it's actually my favorite book because it's pre-Holocaust.  It tells not about the sufferings.  It tells about the beauty, the traditions, the superstitions, the biggest characters, the anecdotes of his shtetl [small Eastern European town with a Jewish community], Skarżysko-Kamienna.  So, sometimes, when I miss -- when I feel sad that I actually never got to meet my grandparents or a number of uncles and aunts and cousins, I read this book and 49:00it draws me closer to that world.  And actually, on that tone, I would like to mention that one of the things that I feel is not being done enough today -- there's a lot being done to commemorate and remember the millions.  But what is not done enough is we don't remember their culture, their literature, their language, their life.  And in this book, my father actually did his part to -- commemorating, to remembering their life.  And I would very much like to see Jewish institutions also include Yiddish.  Also in the United States and also 50:00in Israel.  Because this is actually what was lost.  Their world was lost, not just their lives.  And my father's last manuscript, "Di antloyfers: fun gsise tsum lebn [The Fugitives: From Agony to Life]," was published by my mother on his first yortsayt [anniversary of death], which means one year after he passed away.  The first part, "Di antloyfers," is about how the Germans came into Poland.  This is autobiographical first person, whereas most of his other books are third person.  And the second part, "Fun gsise tsum lebn," is how he was liberated.  His subtitle here is, "Memuarn fun getos un katsetn [Memoirs from the Ghetto and Concentration Camps]," his personal memoirs of how the war ended.  And I remember he writes there that everybody was supposed to go to 51:00their nation.  Like, the French, the English, whatever, whatever.  And he wasn't sure where to go to because, well, Jewish nation, there wasn't anything like that.  So, he went to the Polish, where -- which is where he stemmed from.  And when he walked in there, they looked at him, they said, Vos -- d'lebst nokh?  Like, what?  You're still alive?  And this was the baruch haba [Hebrew: welcome] that he got after the war.  So, now you can understand, perhaps, why he refused to go back to Poland again, 'cause he felt that nobody really wanted him alive.

CW:  How often do you read his books?

BBK: Pretty often.  I look at it every few days.  I'm also -- I've changed my life the last few years.  I used to work in pharmaceuticals and logistics.  52:00And circumstances in my life changed.  I was really happily married and unfortunately, my husband passed away.  I became a young widow and that made me realize that life was short and I have to reset my priorities.  And all my life, I knew, as I had told you, I wanted to go to Poland.  I knew that one day, I would do something with my Yiddish, with my love for Yiddish.  And I decided that life is too short and I've got to get on with it.  And then, I changed my life around and my life is now completely immersed in Yiddish.  I went back to school.  I'm doing the research thesis on my father, a comprehensive work, academic work.  And as a part of that, of course, I reread his works.  I also am the director of a Yiddish cultural center in Tel Aviv, 53:00which is affiliated with Arbeter Ring, Workmen's Circle.  It's on Kalischer in Tel Aviv, where we have a bimonthly journal, "Lebns fragn [Life's Questions]."  We have a chorus, we have a very large Yiddish library, twenty-five thousand books.  And we just got a donation of another thirty thousand books.  So, we have, I think, the largest library in Yiddish in Israel.  In addition, I'm the representative in Israel of the Yiddish "Forward," which I'm very proud of.  And I work with subscriptions and marketing and merchandise and photographs now.  And in addition, I translate for the Yiddishpiel Theater.  I do their sur-titles from Yiddish to English.  I just did "The Megilla" by Itzik Manger 54:00and they just took it with them to Montreal for the Yiddish Theater Festival.  So, I was very proud of that.  In addition, in my spare time, (laughs) I volunteer.  Let's put it this way.  I go to a lot of Yiddish events and people always ask me, What's going on?  What's happening?  What's this?  And I said to myself, Why don't I just write a list?  So, I came out with a bulletin called "Vos? Ven? Vu? [What? When? Where?]," which is a volunteer thing.  I do it usually at midnight, one o'clock in the morning when I finish all my other activities.  And I list here all the activities that in Yiddish or about Yiddish taking place in Israel.  And I do this geographically and I give the phone number, the date, the time, the website if there is one.  And I have about 450 people on my mailing list right now in Israel and abroad.  And it 55:00gives me a great deal of satisfaction.  For me, it's very important to keep Yiddish going.  And my father had written to me in '67 that he feels, he knows that I will continue his work.  Also in the written word and also orally.  And I knew that one day, I would be doing it.  And I'm very proud that I am able to do it.

CW:  How did you end up living in Israel?

BBK: (laughs) How did I end up living in Israel?  It's like the expression, "A mentsh trakht un got lakht."  A person plans and meanwhile, God is laughing.  As I told you before, I was brought up in religious schools.  After Manhattan 56:00Day School, I went to Central Manhattan, which is Yeshiva University High School for Girls, and continued in Stern College, Yeshiva University.  And at that time, in 1968, it was very popular to come to Israel for your junior year, the one-year student program.  So, I arranged for myself to come for one year at Hebrew U with the intention of coming back to finish up at Stern for my senior year.  And I met this wonderful guy and at the end of that year, July 27, 1969, I got married.  So, my parents and sister came for my wedding and I've been basically living in Israel ever since.  And I have three wonderful children, Surit, Rami-Rachmil, who's named after my father.  I was pregnant when he passed away.  And my youngest, Gilbertshl.  And unfortunately, my husband, as 57:00I said, passed away.  But I still continue living in Israel.  So, I've built my home there.

CW:  And from the discussions about Yiddish in Israel and we've seen how things have, at least from the outside, seem to shift in recent years, that Yiddish is becoming more common and maybe you have more things to put on your list, I'm not sure.  But I wonder, from your experience actually living there, what has been the place of Yiddish in Israel and how has it changed?

BBK: That's a difficult question.  Looking back historically, I'm trying to understand -- David Ben-Gurion, when he was the prime minister, he tried very much to create a new Israeli.  He wanted everyone to speak Hebrew.  There were even laws outlawing Yiddish performances.  And that was one of the reasons.  58:00The culture stopped.  There was no permit to have a Yiddish newspaper.  They were not permitted to have a daily paper.  So, Tsanin, Mordkhe Tsanin sort of managed to -- not change the law, but went around it and he had one newspaper coming out Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and a second Yiddish newspaper on a different name coming out Monday and Wednesdays and Fridays.  So, this way, (laughs) it enabled a Yiddish newspaper after all.  And everyone keeps telling me, I see a revival, a resurgence in Yiddish.  I would like to think so.  I'm not sure.  The fact that I have five pages in my "Vos? Ven? Vu?," perhaps, is 59:00some kind of evidence.  But it's not enough that the fifty-year-olds and the sixty-year-olds come in.  I would like to see twenty and thirty-year-olds.  I would very much like to adapt some of the ideas you have at the Yiddish Book Center and bring it to Israel, to my cultural center, to bring in more music, to bring in more -- well, here, I suppose, it would be English and Yiddish.  So, I would have to have Hebrew and Yiddish, 'cause I want to attract younger people.  And they should not have the feeling that Yiddish is old hat or from those days.  I still see it as a vibrant language.  I love to hear Yiddish.  When I hear Yiddish, it makes me feel so good.  I feel like I've come home again.  It's wonderful and it's also a way of proving that they did not succeed 60:00in wiping out -- perhaps the people, but not the culture, not the language, not the literature.  And there's such beauty there.  There are so many forgotten writers.  And I would very much like to believe that it's not lost.  But we have about three, four active Yiddish institutions in Israel.  The Sholem Aleichem, which is the most active one.  That's Professor Avraham Novershtern.  They have more than three hundred people coming and learning Yiddish.  We have -- on Kalisher, the Arbeter Ring, and we have Beit Leyvik and Beit Sholem Asch in Bat Yam, which occasionally has activities.  In any case, 61:00there's still a lot to be done.

CW:  Can you tell me a little bit more about your work at the cultural center?

BBK: Again, this was an accident that I ended up there.  (laughs) When I left the pharmaceutical industry, I decided, I'm going to devote myself to Yiddish.  So, the first thing I did was I joined Tel Aviv University's zumer program [summer program].  I was in the advanced level.  And my teachers were Professor David Roskies, Professor Chava Turniansky, Professor Avraham Novershtern, and I just felt so exhilarated when I was in class.  I felt that I was getting oxygen.  (breathes) And I said, This is what I need to do.  I'm gonna devote myself to Yiddish.  It was just so fantastic!  There were so many things that I had wanted to know and I was learning them.  And I said, I'm 62:00going to do graduate work and that's it.  I'll do it in a few years.  And then, I started, also, to attend lectures at Arbeter Ring.  And after a year or two, I got a phone call that the secretary that they have was going off on maternity leave.  Would I be interested in replacing her for three months?  So, I said, Oh, three months is okay.  So, I came in.  She returned only after about seven months but the director said to me, "Di, bist shoyn nisht avek fun du.  You, are not going away from here."  In any case, I've been there almost five years and now I direct the place.  (laughs) So, it was an accident but it's very satisfying.  And I organize Yiddish lectures every two weeks.  I 63:00help Yitzhak Luden, who is the editor of the "Lebns fragn."  I maintain the Yiddish website.  We have a chorus.  As I mentioned, we have a huge Yiddish library.  We just got a donation of several thousand other books.  So, I spoke with Catherine Madsen.  I would like to catalog them.  Right now, they're on shelves on carts, like the olden days.  Yeah.  But I would like to put it on the website to make it available to researchers, 'cause I imagine we must have books, perhaps, which the Yiddish Center doesn't have yet.  What else?  Yes, and I mentioned that I translate.  Ah, another thing which I like to do: there are many people who find old postcards or old letters.  And suddenly, I've 64:00discovered that I can do that, too.  So, people bring me their old handwritten Yiddish letters.  I decipher that and I translate that into either Yiddish -- sorry, from Yiddish into English or Hebrew.  And I actually have some links on the internet of documents that I've translated.  I also translated a diary of Yakov Datner [sic] about the Bialystok Ghetto, which is available in a link on the web.  And it's funny, I spend all my day in Yiddish.  And when I come home, my fun is continuing to work on Yiddish.  (laughs) So, I guess my hobby 65:00is also -- I mean, that's my passion.  Yiddish is my passion in life.  Besides my three children, Yiddish is the love of my life.

CW:  Did you ever rebel against that?  Did you ever, when English was not allowed in the home growing up, did you ever rebel?

BBK: Never.  I never did.  And I actually enjoyed -- I would like to mention also my father had a lot of patience to sit with me in the evening.  He had a little orange book, "Mayn alef-beys [My A-B-C's]."  I think the author was Kaminski.  And for every Yiddish letter, there was a cute little children's poem.  So, he taught me at home.  I must have been four or five, six.  He taught me to read Yiddish, to write Yiddish, to sing Yiddish songs.  And a few 66:00of my favorite little poems, perhaps it might be interesting for you.  "Alef" was "Itsik."  "Itsik shpitsik payper noter, drayt dem ek baym shvartsn koter, makht zikh fin papir a ferdl [Pointy Itzik the dragon, twirls the black cat's tail, makes a little horse from paper] --" oh, wait, let's do this again.  "Itsik shpitsik payper noter, drayt dem ek baym shvartsn koter, makht zikh fin papir a shverdl, nemt dem shtekn far a ferdl.  Oy, iz dos an itsik. [Pointy Itzik the dragon, twirls the black cat's tail, makes a sword from paper, and rides his cane as a horse.  Oh, what an Itzik he is.]"  (laughs) And another one which I liked was "Yud" -- Yankel.  "Yankl, bankl, vu, vu, vu?  Makht a rayze af a shtul.  Mit a hitl af a zayt, furt zikh yankl, vayt, vayt, vayt. [Yankel Bankl, where, where, where to?  Goes on a trip on his chair.  With his hat turned to the side, he will travel far and wide.]"  So, you can imagine, as a child, I used to love that.  "Giml" -- gendzl, a goose.  "Gendzl, gendzl, 67:00go, go, gok.  Laykht zikh ayerlekh a shok.  Fun di ayer pik, pik, pik, vern genzelekh tsurik. [Goose, Goose, go, go, gok.  Lays sixty eggs.  From the eggs: peck, peck, peck, they become goslings again.]"  (laughs) So, I always enjoyed it.  I always enjoyed the Yiddish, I always enjoyed sitting with my father.  Rebellion was not a part of my vocabulary at all.  And I'm thankful for that today, that my father gave me the Yiddish and a lot of his knowledge.

CW:  And it seems like you inherited his memory, also.  (laughs)

BBK: I don't know, but I remember that we were amazed at his phenomenal memory.  Like, twenty-seven years after the events, he could remember these minute details, which -- wow.  It was just amazing.  He could remember the 68:00name or the type of leaf or an address or a face.  Amazing.

CW:  When you were creating your own family, did Yiddish play a role in your home?

BBK: I wish I could give you a different answer.  It's very hard to say, but no.  My husband did not know Yiddish.  We lived in Israel.  My father was not alive anymore.  I believe if he had been alive, we would have spoken more Yiddish, he would have spoken Yiddish to his grandchildren.  But at that time -- as I said, my husband did not know Yiddish and we were raising the children 69:00in Israel and unfortunately had to make a decision.  And we decided that we speak English at home, that English would be more useful to them later in life and they were brought up bilingually.  I was brought up trilingually, English, Hebrew, Yiddish, and our children were brought up bilingually.  We spoke English at home and they spoke Hebrew, of course, in school and with their friends.  I would have loved to tell you that my children know Yiddish, and I'm very sorry and sad to say they do not. 

CW:  What were some values that you maybe learned from your parents, that you then tried to pass on to your children?

BBK: First of all, to be proud to be a Jew.  I think it's very important, also, to realize (sighs) that in every generation, there will be someone who will try to hurt the Jewish people.  But remember, this has happened and we always overcome, we survive, and we continue.  Also, to help the less fortunate, to give tsedakah.  I found out, after my mother passed away -- she was living in a senior residence center.  Someone told me that she used to go up and wash one of the residents.  She used to actually give her a bath because there was no one -- her children didn't come visit and she felt sorry for her, and many other 71:00stories like that.  She was very modest.  Also, giving my children unconditional love.  And no matter what they do, they'll always be loved.  And to try to keep tradition, Jewish tradition, to pass it on for their children.  My sister keeps a kosher home.  Her children -- she has a religious family.  Her children are observant.  She has nineteen grandchildren.  B'li ayin hara [Hebrew: no evil eye].  I myself just had my first grandchild.  My son Rami and Mital granted me a granddaughter.  I keep a kosher home.  My husband wasn't that religious.  He accustomed himself to me because it was very 72:00important for me to pass on the traditions of my parents to my children.  I say to myself, whatever they do later will be their decision.  But I am not going to be the one to break the golden chain, the heritage of Jewish tradition.  And the main thing, which I would very much like, that my children will be is what we call a mentsh.  M'darf zayn a mentsh. Dus iz dus vikhtikste zakh.  M'darf zayn a mentsh, m'darf zikh oyffirn mentshlekh mit andere mentshn.  In oyb mir zenen mentshn, vet alts zayn vunderbar.  [You have to be a mentsh. That's the 73:00most important thing. You have to be a mentsh, you have to conduct yourself honorably with other people.  And if we're mentshes, everything will be wonderful.]

CW:  When you talk about the practices and traditions that you want to pass on, were there special ways that your family celebrated the holidays when you were a kid?  And then, any special recipes?  Or you mentioned you already sang your wonderful -- the prayer for me.  But any other --

BBK: My mother was a great cook.  She loved to bake.  From her Romanian-Hungarian origins, she always made whatever was customary.  Purim was hamantaschen.  Pesach, we had the matses [unleavened bread eaten during Passover] and the traditional matse bray [matzah gruel] and kneydlekh [dumplings].  And Rosh Hashanah, of course, the round challah.  And as I mentioned, Friday night, the traditional goldene yoykh, the golden chicken 74:00soup.  And we always celebrated the holidays, the traditional Jewish holidays besides the Friday night and the Saturday night, which I mentioned.  And we usually tried to invite people over, so they should also feel what a Jewish holiday is.

CW:  Tsi hot ir a balibster yontev [Do you have a favorite holiday]?

BBK: A balibste yontev?  Efsher [maybe] Hanukkah.  Khanike iz fraylekh [Hanukkah is joyful].  (laughs)  Azoy -- ikh ken nisht gedenkn a shpetsieler yontev.  Ober ikh vays, bay indz -- trots dem vos mayne eltern zenen orem geveyn, mayn eltern hobn tumid -- hot mayn mame tumid indz gegibn a gefil az 75:00s'iz du.  Afilu ven zi hot nisht gehat kayn gelt, ven mir zaynen gegangen in gas un s'hot geveyn shpil-zakhn, "Mame, ven d'vest hobn gelt, vestu mir koyfn azoy a velkhe?"  "Yo, yo, yo." [So -- I can't remember a special holiday.  But you know, for us -- even though my parents were poor, my parents always -- my mother always gave us the feeling that we had.  Even when we didn't have any money, when we went walking on the street and there were toys, "Mom, when we have money, will you buy me that thing?"  "Yeah, yeah, yeah."  (laughs) Mir hobn farshtanen, mir hobn farshtanen [We understood, we understood].

CW:  Tsi zaynen do andere mayseles oder zakhn vos ir vilt veyzn undz vegn ayer tate oder [Are there other stories or things you wanted to tell us about your father or] --

BBK: Ikh muz a trakht tun [I have to think about it].  (laughter) Vegn tate oder vegn mamen [About my father or mother] -- Efsher vel ikh tsigebn -- mayn 76:00tate hot zayer gehaltn fun YIVO in er hot ale zayne manuskriptn, ale zayne briv, ale zayne dokumentn ibergegeybn nokh in zayn leybn tsum YIVO.  Un er hot dorn zibn un tsvantsik kastns.  In mit etlekhe yorn tsurik, ikh bin geveyn in YIVO un hob ikh far zay gemakht a reshime fin inhalt.  Dos hayst mir vaysn vos iz in yedn kestele.  In ven ikh bin gekimen kayn isrul, in yor nayntsn hindert akht in sekstsik, hob ikh geshribn briv tsu mayne eltern uf yidish.  In yene tsayt iz geveyn Aerograms, ir vayst, in ikh hob klayn, klayn, klayn, klayn, klayne oysyes uf yidish geshribn.  In ale mayne briv zenen in YIVO. [Maybe I'll add -- 77:00my father thought very highly of YIVO and he had all of his manuscripts, all of his letters, and all of his documents handed over to YIVO while he was still living.  He has twenty-seven boxes there.  And a few years ago, I was at YIVO and I made a list of the contents.  Meaning we know what's in each box.  And when I came to Israel, in 1968, I wrote letters to my parents in Yiddish.  Back then there were Aerograms, you know, and I wrote in tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny letters.  And all of my letters are at YIVO.]  (laughs) Mayn tate ale avekgegeybn in YIVO.  Dus heyst oyb ikh vil zey borgn ober shraybn, darf ikh beytn derloybenish, trots dem vos zey zaynen mayne. [My father gave it all to YIVO. That means that if I want to borrow them or write, I have to ask for permission, even though they are mine.]  (laughs) Ober dort zenen du a sakh, zayer a sakh, fun yurn.  Halevay volt ikh gehat tsayt, volt ikh ibergelaynt in efsher geshribn vegn dem.  Akh!  Epes zayer vikhtik.  Hob ikh dir dertsaylt ven ikh bin geveyn in poyln, hob ikh gefinen dortn mer vi tsvey hindert dokumentn.  Halevay ikh volt gehat tsayt, ikh vil zayer [But there, there are a lot, really a lot, from over years.  If only I had time, I would re-read them and maybe write about them.  Oh!  Something very important.  I told you about when I went to Poland, and found more than two hundred documents there.  If only I had time, I would really] -- (sighs) araynkikn, iberlaynen, analizirn, in efsher aroysgebn zayne verk vus vet kayn mol nisht farefntlekh.  Ikh hob moyre ikh vel nokh a leybn darfn hobn. [look over, re-read, analyze, and maybe even publish his work that will otherwise never be accessible.  I am afraid I'll need another lifetime.]  (laughs) Ikh vays nisht oyb ikh vel in mayn lebn dos 78:00kenen dergraykhn.  Halevay.  In ikh mayn mayn tate iz shtolts mit mir.  In ikh mayn mayn mame oykh.  Nisht nor mit mir, oykh mit mayn shvester in indzere kinder, in indzere ayniklekh, dos vos mir gayn vayter mit yidishkayt. [I don't know if I'll be able to in my lifetime.  If only.  And I think my father is proud of me.  And my mother, too.  Not only with me, also with my sister and our children, and our grandchildren, the fact that we're furthering Yiddishkayt.]

CW:  Tsi hot ir an -- eytses far di kumedike doyres [Do you have -- advice for future generations]?

BBK: Oh, boy.  Aytses far d'kimedike doyres.  Koydem-kol men darf gedenkn di karboynes, yene vus zenen umgekimen in Shoah vayl es zenen shoyn du mentshn vos 79:00zogn az di Shoah iz nisht geveyn, zey tien oplaykenen.  Dos tit mir zayer, zayer vey.  Mir hobn nokh laybedike aydes vus hobn es ibergeleybt in es kimen shoyn du mentshn vos zugn az s'iz nisht geveyn.  Dos iz ayn zakh.  Tsvaytns, m'zol nisht fargesn di yidishe shprakh in literatur.  In vi ikh hob shoyn dermont, di gantse kultur fin yene vus leybn shoyn nisht.  Ober di mentshn, zayer letster veyg, hobn zey geredt yidish.  Hobn nisht gereydt an ander shprakh. [Advice for future generations.  First of all one must remember the martyrs, those who were killed in the Shoah because there are already people who say that the Shoah didn't happen, who deny it.  It really, really hurts me.  We still have living witnesses who lived through it and there are already people who say it didn't happen.  So that's one thing.  Second, one shouldn't forget Yiddish language and literature.  And as I've already said, that entire culture of those who are no longer alive.  But those people, in their last moments, spoke Yiddish.  They didn't speak another language.]  (crying) Zay hobn geredt yidish.  In far mir iz azoy vikhtik az yidish zol vayter gayn.  M'zol ophitn, azoy vi du in dem tsenter mit -- ophitn di bikher.  M'darf di yinge mentshn 80:00oyslernen vus iz dus geveyn di groyse yidishe literatur in shprakh in kultur vus iz geveyn.  In s'iz indzer hoyv [They spoke Yiddish.  And for me it's really important that Yiddish should go on.  We have to preserve, as is done here in this center with -- looking after the books.  We must teach the young people what the great Yiddish literature and language and culture was.  It's our duty], our duty, indzer hoyv m'zol es vayter oyshaltn in nokh dertsayln in dermonen in lernen di vayterdike doyres.  In ikh farhof az ikh ti a kleyn, kleyn bashtayer tsu dem.  Ober far mir dus iz shtark, shtark vikhtik. [our duty to continue to maintain and explain and teach the future generations.  And I hope that I've made a small, small contribution to this.  But for me this is really, really important.]

[BREAK IN RECORDING]

BBK: Ikh hob nor gevolt tsigebn -- ikh hob fargesn tsu dermonen mayn mames nomen iz hinde etshye volf fin transylvania, fin toshnad, fin [odya-namare?].  In ikh 81:00hob oykh gevolt tsigebn a tayl fin mayn tetikayt [I just wanted to add -- I forgot to say my mother's name is Hinde Etsye Volf from Transylvania, from Toshnad, from [Odya-Namare?].  And I also wanted to add a piece of my work], part of my activities.  Ikh for arim oykh in isrul in oykh in oysland in ikh dertsayl vegn indzer yidisher heym, ikh dertsayl vegn tatn, mamen, di shafungen, in indzer yidisher heym.  In ahits deym, ikh ti oykh oyftretn.  Ikh zing, ikh bin a tayl fin a yidishe ansambl in ikh hob dus zayer lib. [I travel around in Israel and also abroad and I tell stories about our Yiddish home, I explain about my father, my mother, the writings, and our Yiddish home.  And other than that, I also do performances.  I sing, I am a member of a Yiddish ensemble and I really love it.]  (laughs) A sheynem dank [Thank you very much].

[END OF INTERVIEW]