Echoes of Tattered Tongues: Memory Unfolded

My God is God/Your God is the Devil I grew up in a Catholic family.  Went to Catholic schools.  Even thought about being a priest at one tim...

 Change I start every day the same way.  After getting myself a cup of coffee, I open my iPad and check out my Facebook page.  I start with ...

  Subhumans in America As the son of Polish immigrants—people who survived the hell of Nazi forced labor camps—I grew up with a deep convict...

 CHRISTMAS IN THE CAMPS I wanted to write something about Christmas for the Dziennik Zwiazkowy this year that I hadn’t written before.  I’v...

My dad didn’t drink during World War II.  He was a Polish slave laborer in Buchenwald Concentration Camp for four years, and in the camps th...

The Day I Was Born in a Refugee Camp after the War My mother washed her face in cold water, tied her hair back, and put on an old dress.  S...

Only the  Dead   At first, the men of the burial battalion had tried to bury the dead.   They dug big trenches and deep ditches, and threw t...