“…my mom was a very pretty girl and always seemed happy; but I also remember her later (after the War) as being sick often…”
It was difficult trying to find these photographs. It was even more difficult looking at them, and having various emotions surface after all these years.
I was born in 1939, so I was two to five years old in camp. What do I remember? All I have are jumbled memories, no cause or effect: just dust, sand, no trees. The noisy, hot, humid mess hall. The taste of graham crackers and ice cold milk at preschool. I remember being bullied by two older boys who looked to be 10 feet tall. One day I didn’t come home at the usual time, so Mom came looking for me and found me killing time at school. After that day, she met me near where the boys always waited for me.
It always seemed there were too many people, always around — especially girls and women. I was very embarrassed having to take showers with my mom and a bunch of other ladies. Even at that young age, I was aware that men and women did not mix. After I complained to my mom, she arranged to have a male family friend take me to the men’s showers.