F A R E W E L L
It took me a long time to see the good side of anything

   My father’s name was Max Hirschland. My mother was already dead, having died young. Somehow, probably subconsciously, I bore my father a grudge about having had to leave. A father is a powerful man, isn’t he? He can protect you.

   Then I boarded the train. I know now that no one was allowed to scream or cry because the child would have been removed from the train. And so he only said quietly, “Goodbye.” In English we’d call that ‘with a stiff upper lip’. Really very English. I held that against my father a lot. I also didn’t reply to the letters he was constantly writing to me. It took me a long time to see the good side of anything.
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