This is a picture of my cousin Josef Weiger, the son of my father's sister Ida. It was taken in Prague in the 1940s. My cousin was the same age as my brother. My cousin also couldn't attend school, so was apprenticing as a tailor, once he boasted to us that he already knew seven different types of stitches. From that time on my brother and I called him ?Seven-stitch Pepik.? He used to often come visit us, but was terribly timid and shy; he wouldn't come in on his own, he wouldn't sit down on his own, and we constantly had to prod him along into something. So my brother composed a poem about him: When you ring at our door, why does your hand shake, and when finally in the kitchen, why do you quake. Why don?t you know what to do with your coat and hat, why are you such a chicken, if I may please ask that. Because you?re an idiot, my boy, and a huge one, but that's known not just by me, but by everyone. How many times against your mug my hand rose in malice, just to fall again, I suffer on, the tortures of Tantalus. Just chess, that you know, one could say almost with class, but even during this game, I?d love to kick you in the ass. Come over again, darling, it?ll do our hearts good, my boy, ?cause with your departure again, you?ll cause them great joy. Our cousin Josef died in Auschwitz.