In 1948, my mother was traveling by train when she met my father.She immediately was drawn to this tall, handsome, proud 35 year old man. She learned that he was just returning to Hungary after having spent 5 years in Siberia as a prisoner of war.He had been taken as forced labor by the Hungarian army. The Hungarians were collaborators with the Germans. He was captured and imprisoned by the Russians. In Siberia, he was relatively fortunate. He was an excellent cook and was put to work cooking for the Russian officers. Thus, although imprisoned, he at least was well fed and warm. He came back to Hungary to find that his wife and child had perished during the war. He also lost his mother and 9 of his 14 siblings in the Holocaust.

Two people, eager to get on with living, joined in marriage and a year later, I was born. My mother took the savings that she had accumulated after the war and financed my father's business as a baker. They worked hard, side-by-side, and built a successful business in Kisvarda, Hungary. They had several employees. They were able to buy a nice home. I had a nanny, and the future seemed bright.

Then the Russians came into Hungary. So, my father, hearing rumors of what was to come, tried to sell his business equipment. For this capitalist crime, they put him in prison. They also nationalized his business.

After my father's release, my parents and I moved to Budapest. We rented a small one-bedroom apartment on St. Kiralj Utca (St. King Street), just a half block from the Radio Station. My father went to work in a refrigeration factory, my mother took care of our home, and I eventually started school.

I have good memories of being a child in Budapest. I remember going to Margaret Sziget. Margaret Sziget is an island in the middle of the Danube River in the middle of Budapest. It's a large park. There are pools. I recall, as a child, jumping in the wave pool. This pool simulated ocean waves and I loved jumping in them. I had to sneak off to play in this pool. My mother would have been horrified if she ever found out.

I have good memories of vacations in Lake Balaton. Lake Balaton was a few hours train ride from Budapest. It was a resort community on a large lake. I recall the contrast of this beautiful natural environment with the urban, congested, noisy, life in Budapest.

I have good memories of school in Budapest. I loved learning and loved being a "leader". I used to bribe fellow classmates with candy to obey class rules. t was thus that I was put in charge when the teacher needed to step out of the room. We wore uniforms to school. I still recall my apron which had ABC embroidered on it.

Life, viewed by my young eyes, seemed comfortable in October of 1956. True, we lived in a communist country; we lived in a poor country; we were poor; but all of that notwithstanding, we were happy.

Our lives changed dramatically October 23, 1956, and the change began within view of our living room window.

It began as a student protest.They marched to the Radio Station on Brody Sandor Street so they could have a handful of demands broadcast. What demands did they want to broadcast?

The Radio Station was important in Hungary and the government was not about to turn it over to a student mob. Control information and you control the people. The Radio Station was like a military fortress with 70 armed guards. When the guards couldn't get the students to leave, they opened fire. A woman was killed. The military reaction by the government to the student protest was like throwing a match on dry hay. Within hours, a small student protest mushroomed into a revolution that encompassed the entire city. By days end, 20,000-30,000 people were protesting and marching throughout the city. By the following day, it had spread to the entire country. A small Russian military force tried to contol the rioting. Unarmed Hungarian youths took on these tanks and armed soldiers, and with their bare hands and home made explosives fought them off. Some of the Hungarian soldiers joined the revolutionaries.

The building in which we lived was an old, three story building, built around a small inner courtyard. The ground of the courtyard was dirt and in the middle stood a lone, thin, tall tree. That courtyard was my playground. There were about a dozen apartments. There was a basement also in the building. For the next several days of the revolution, the basement became the home of the residents of the building. Tanks rolled on our street. Gunfire was heard at all hours. We moved bedding into the basement and huddled with our neighbors in fear.

When things quieted down,my father went out to try and get some bread. He was in line at a store when gunfire erupted. A woman ahead of him keeled over. He fled. Thus, trying to get food became a dangerous activity. My most vivid recollection of those times was the night I needed to go to the bathroom. We were all sleeping pressed together like sardines. To get to the bathroom, I would have to crawl over a dozen people. I didn't know what to do, so I burst into tears.

On October 30, we came out of the basement for the first time since the revolution began. Our building was still in tact. The tanks miraculously and inexplicably were gone. The gunfire stopped. It was eerily quiet. We returned to our apartments.

My father had a motorcycle and during that lull, on one of his several rides around the city, he took me with him. I remember sitting in the sidecar, looking up at all the buildings that had been bombed. I recall seeing a piano, dangling out of the side of one of the buildings.

The streets were calm, but my parents were not. There was a great deal of heated debate between my mother and father. My father had heard that the borders were open. He wanted to leave. My mother refused to go. My mother argued, how could they leave everything they had and everyone they knew. My father responded that he had had enough. He would rather be dead than continue to live under such oppression. My future became another source of dispute.

"How can we risk the life of our child?" my mother argued.

"How can we deny her a future?"my father would respond.

My father threatened to leave and take me with him. Finally, my mother begrudgingly gave in. My dad gave the keys to our apartment to the next door neighbors and we never looked back.

The Revolution began October 23. The Russians withdrew on October 30. There followed 5 days of freedom when Hungarians at first hoped, then prayed, then thought that they had achieved freedom.

Why did the Russians withdraw? The speculation is that Khruschev was afraid that the international community and specifically, the United States, would intervene and protect Hungary. He did not want that confrontation. What changed his mind? The speculation is that he became emboldened when he realized that the world had changed its focus from Hungary to a new crisis, the Suez crisis. October 29, 1956, the Suez crisis threatened war in the Middle East. Egypt had nationalized the Suez Canal, and the British, French and Israelis were determined to keep their "oil lifeline," so Israel invaded Egypt's Sinai Peninsula. Britain and France bombed Egypt. They sent in their land forces. All the world's eyes focused on the Middle East and Hungary was left in the dust.

And there was another distraction for the US. Eisenhower was facing an election on November 4. Khruschev probably accurately read the political will in the US as self-absorbed.

Somewhere in the timeframe of October 31 andNovember 10 my parents and I left our home with as much clothes as we could put on our backs and my father's pride and joy, his motorcycle. My mother sewed what little jewelry she had into the lining of her clothes. We boarded a train in Budapest and traveled as close to the Hungarian border as we could. I recall very little of that train ride. I did, however, hear about it for years afterwards. My father many times reminded my mother how she panicked and threw most of our money down the toilet during that ride. There were soldiers who patrolled the train and my mother feared that if they caught us with money, they would know that we were trying to escape. She feared they would arrest us, or worse. Her fear was not unfounded. Those caught trying to escape were brought back and imprisoned. Some were just shot.

I don't know where we were when we got off the train. I recall we arrived in the late afternoon. With a small group of others (I have no idea who they were or how we connected with them), we were taken to a farmhouse. Whatever money we still had was given to that farmer. In exchange, we were promised guidance to the Austrian border. This farmer was a stranger to my parents and my parents had no idea whether the farmer would in fact lead us to safety or lead us into the arms of the Russian /Hungarian army. I was put in the bedroom along with a baby. We were the only children in this group. My mother told me to get some sleep.The baby was given something to make it sleep.A crying baby on this passage could jeopardize the entire group.I recall the farmhouse was warm and cozy in contrast to the freezing cold outside. But sleep would not come. I laid there and listened to the muffled voices of the adults in the next room and watched the room darken as night descended around the farmhouse.

Once it was completely dark, my parents came and got me and the baby was bundled by its mother. We then set out as a group of about 10. At first, the walking was easy. The ground was hard and frozen, but flat. My father was able to walk, rolling his motorcycle next to him. But eventually, there was no flat road. We were walking across plowed fields, bumpy and icy. My father eventually abandoned his motorcycle. I walked holding his hand. My mother was up ahead, walking with the guide. She was a heavy woman and she had flat feet. But that night, she walked on air.

It took us all night to reach the Eisner Canal. The canal was the border between Hungary and Austria. Our journey was uneventful.The night was very cold, the sky was clear and the stars shone brightly, illuminating our path. As the sky began to lighten, we could see movement of a few men on the other side of the Canal. The Canal was not very wide, but the water was icy cold. They threw a rubber raft tied to a rope across and our guide whispered that women and the two children get in first. My mother and I got in the boat and we were thus pulled across into Austria. Another boat load was filled and pulled across.

All but my father and a couple of men were still in Hungary when gunfire erupted. We didn't know where it came from or from whom. The three men still in Hungary, dove into the icy water and swam across. No one was hurt. We were all in Austria and safe. Our party was a miniscule part of the 250,000 refugees who fled Hungary during those few days.

Why did the Hungarian/Russian government allow the flood of refugees to leave? I heard an interesting answer to this question recently. It was in order to ease the tension within the country. Many of the dissatisfied left and with them the aspiration and drive for a non-communist Hungary. It is estimated that 2% of Hungary's population left during the course of a couple of weeks. Of the 250,000 who fled, only 1% actually participated in the revolution.

As to our small group of refugees, knowing we were in Austria did not cause any immediate joyous celebration. We were exhausted and our futures were uncertain. We followed the Austrians quietly and obediently to a schoolhouse nearby. There, we were bedded down on straw covered with blankets, and left to sleep.

It was in that schoolhouse that it was discovered that the baby in our group had died. The sleeping pills had proved too strong. I watched the mother's body shake sobbing.

The next day, my father disappeared for a few hours. He returned with this strange fruit. I had never seen anything like it. He told me to try it. It was horrible tasting. The skin was bitter. It was only later that I learned it was a banana and that you were not supposed to eat the skin.

Shortly thereafter, we were taken to Vienna and got an apartment in the city. My father was multilingual, speaking Hungarian, German, Russian, Hebrew and Yiddish. He quickly got a job as a translator. We lived comfortably for several months in Vienna. I started school there and learned to speak German. I have no recollection of learning German, but I have a clear recollection of being able to speak it.

On weekends, we visited the sights of Vienna. I especially recall the Schornbrunn Palace. We toured the castle and strolled in the gardens. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen.

We greeted the new year of 1957 in Vienna with a party at our apartment building.

My father had two sisters in the United States. My parents decided we would go to the United States. Because we had sponsors, we were able to come to the United States ahead of those who did not have connections. So, we boarded a military transport plane in Vienna and headed to New York.

Our plane landed for refueling in Greenland. The people at that airport were extremely hospitable. I recall they gave each child a toy. I got a miniature tea set, which I still recall having when I was in college. They talked to my parents and encouraged them to stay in Greenland rather than continue on to the United States. But, we continued our journey arriving in Camp Kilmer, New Jersey. Most refugees coming to the United States had first view of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. By the time the Hungarian refugees arrived, Ellis Island was closed. Camp Kilmer was a military base that was converted temporarily to process the influx ofHungarianrefugees. From there, Hungarians were disbursed all over the country.

When we were notified that we could come to the United States, my Aunt Barbara in New York sent us $25.00 to pay for any expenses of our trip. I recall the pride in my dad's eyes when he saw his sister for the first time. His first greeting was the return of her $25.00. My father would earn his own way. He would not take any charity.

The beginning of our new life in the United States was not easy for either of my parents, but it was especially difficult for my mother. My Aunt Barbara was a very successful and prosperous clothing designer. She had a luxurious apartment in Manhattan. She looked upon my parents and I aspeasants.In her own way, she tried to help. She took us into her home. She got my father a job as a baker at one of the major hotel restaurants in New York. However, she treated my mother like domestic help. There was instant friction.

Personally, I recall two things about our stay in New York.I recall that her living room had electric curtains. You pushed a button and they opened. You pushed a button and they closed. For a seven year old, that provided a great deal of entertainment, all to the consternation of my aunt. I also recall seeing television for the first time. It was in New York that I first was introduced to the Mickey Mouse Club.

The friction between my mother and Aunt Barbara escalated to the point that we had to leave and did leave for Chicago to stay with my father's other sister, Helen. Aunt Helen turned out to be even worse than Aunt Barbara. She was again a very sophisticated woman married to a physicist and not very tolerant of her refugee family. My father, again, got a job quickly, so we were not a financial burden to my aunt. But, she was embarrassed by her lowly relatives. On top of the friction between my mother and my aunt was the intolerable, inescapable, unrelenting heat and humidity of Chicago.

My dad had one more relative in the United States.He hadan uncle living in Cucamonga, California. They corresponded and my grand-uncle wrote about the wonderful weather in California and the good opportunities. He had a large chicken farm and we were welcome to stay and work with him. My mother looked on a map. California was about as far as one could go from Chicago and still be in the United States. That was all she needed to know.

We took a train from Chicago to Union Station, Los Angeles. My first impression of Los Angeles was the rows of palm trees lining the streets. It was a beautiful sight then, as it is, to me, now. It was in Los Angeles that our new lives truly began.

I'll stop my story here.There are many chapters in my life. This small chapter, however, more than any other, formed me and set me on my life path. I was six. It was not of my choosing, but thanks to the choices my parents made, I have had opportunities that they, in their wildest dreams, could not have imagined for me, when they made the daring and brave decision in that October of 1956, to start yet again, their lives, and mine, anew.

I recall as a child, hearing that the streets of America were paved with gold. I learned that was not a myth. This is a land of golden opportunities, and I've had the good fortune to have had those shining opportunities light my life.