Violated.įather spoke to me in a low tone, almost a whisper. In my panic and rage I felt helpless, exposed. The snow had just begun to melt, and as soon as the mud cleared I was going to take my brand new shiny Schwinn on the street. I had been waiting for spring to try it out. I was not going to do it! Let them kill me, I was not going to let them take my new bike! I had not even ridden it yet. My father’s face was frozen into a mask of defiance when he brought the news to us on Sunday afternoon. How can they tell me to take it to the town hall and just leave it there, my most precious possession? Without a sound of protest. It is beautiful.Īt first I think I will not be able to give up my bicycle. It has a dark-yellow leather seat and the shiny chrome handlebars are tucked into handles that match the seat. It is bright yellow, with red-and-yellow webbing on the back wheel. For years I had hoped and prayed for a bike, and my new Schwinn is more wonderful than anything I had imagined.

It had been a birthday present from my parents. I have to part with my new Schwinn bicycle. We are ordered to deliver all our valuables-jewelry, radios, and vehicles. We have to line up to be counted, and we are supplied with tags. On a Monday morning in March, all Jews are ordered to appear at the town hall to be registered. The smooth operation of the process is strangely reassuring. Like lifeless matter we are carried along on a powerful conveyor belt toward an unknown fate. The process of our “liquidation” has begun. The dreaded moment has come: There is no escape.

I have lived a thousand years chapter 8