I am down to one and 1/2 bookcases. I was ruthless. I had to stop when I came to a Sunday school book of mine. On the inside cover is my writing,"Leona Hirsch , Age 7". How could I get rid of that. I loved Sunday school. I so wanted to go to Hebrew
school, but it wasn't done at our Orthodox Synagogue. Now after all of those years, I still remember the class room, the picture on the wall. I remember the first time we sang Hatikvah .How did I even know the words. I can't remember learning them. Did they
just pour out of me , from my soul. And how did my Grandmother know to read Hebrew in the prayer books.She was Russian. Did she read Russian. How educated was she. If only we had had some conversations when I was seven years old and I knew the questions that
I wanted to know the answers to when I was 80 years old. My Mother never talked about Russia. Was it painful. Did she recreate herself when she came to the states,like many of us retirees do when we get to Florida. We moved from one state to another with all
of our belongings. She moved across an ocean with a suitcase. Every now and then , an old photo would come out . It would be of a group of young people, who she would describe as the "intelligencia".Were they plotting to escape to Israel, to the US. She never
said. I thought the pictures were sad and wistful. Wish I had asked more. Kids and Grandkids, ask me anything you want about my growing up so that you have a history.Let me tell you about my marble playing...