" I was born on October 31st, 1939 in Brussels, Belgium. I was two when the German’s marched into Belgium. Everything changed then, with the help of a woman, my parents hid me with a Catholic family for my protection. Unfortunately, the woman then demanded money and threatened to denounce my parents. My father knew it was not safe for me where I was, so one day he came to get me in the middle of the night and took me away to hide with a different family. My father met someone who suggested that I be sent to an orphanage. I was two and a half years old when my father sent me with my cousin, Anny, to an orphanage to be hidden. They changed our names and we pretended to be brother and sister. Shortly after we were in the orphanage the Gestapo came for my parents. The same woman who had blackmailed my parents had reported them. My parents were taken to Auschwitz- Birkenau where they were murdered.

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The orphanage Anny and I were hidden in was a castle. While we were there I often had to hide in a dark hole. When trucks of Gestapo approached the orphanage, those in charge worked quickly to lift the heavy carpet off wooden floors, lifted the wooden trap doors with stairs leading nowhere. We had to stay in these holes. We were given little pieces of rug to bite on in case we needed to cry. I remember that I was scared, so scared of the dark. I let them close the door and put down the carpet and place heavy furniture on top of the carpet. I will always remember the smell, of the holes, but especially the darkness affected and scared me more. I used to see eyes moving; later on I found out that there might have been rates in these places. I asked why I had to go there, they did not answer me. I kept on asking every time I had to do this, and finally they told me that the Gestapo wanted to find Jewish boys. To this day I am scared of the dark.

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We were in hiding for four and a half years. After liberation someone took Anny and I by train back to Brussels. There we were handed over to the Red Cross where we stayed until our Uncle Jacques came to get us. We stayed with him until Anny’s parents got better. They had been at Ravensbruck and Buchenwald. Anny’s father has been on a death march and her mother had been injured no her way home from the concentration camp. When they returned I thought they were my parents and I called them Maman and Papa. However soon I was moved to live with different relatives. Life for me was totally changed. I got married and had a son. I now have three grandchildren. I live in Vancouver and am now retired. I keep myself busy volunteering my time between the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre and the World Federation. I speak quite often in schools. I also run marathons and play golf. "