This is my son’s first day at school. He is sitting in the third row from the bottom, the first one from the right. The photo was taken in Lodz in 1953. I don’t know who took it. It was a public Jewish school. The portrait on the wall is of the famous Jewish writer Issac Peretz. This school was called the Peretz Jewish school.
My son was born on 13th July 1946. His weight at birth was three and a half kilograms. What a boy. He was born in a private clinic. The clinic was on 32 Glowna Street; the building isn't there anymore. I was insured, but I preferred for my wife to be comfortable.
He was difficult to raise, disobedient. When he was growing up, he was eager to get in a fight. He didn't know what he was doing, he'd later apologize. He didn't take all of my genes. He's resourceful, talented, but he's got a difficult temperament. But I loved him so much.
My son wasn't raised in a traditional way, like I was. He went to the Peretz school. It was located on 13 Wieckowskiego. It was a Jewish school, but they taught in Polish. They only taught Yiddish twice a week. So my son could write, but he didn't understand Yiddish. Anyway, I spoke Polish with him at home. There was no cheder then. There were communists here, no one taught religion. Anyway, I never taught him that, as a Jew, he should be better than his friends. I didn't teach him hatred, but tolerance: there's a good Jew and a bad Jew, a good Pole and a good German. My son didn't belong to any organizations, only to the Youth Cultural Center.