Childhood in Vienna
My family, parents Baruch and Esther Hammerman, were originally from Poland and Russia. Baruch had fled the Tsar's army, married and moved to Vienna, they eventually had four daughters. I, the youngest, a latecomer most likely unplanned, arrived at the end of WW1 in 1918, a fourteen year gap between my oldest sister and me. Our home in Vienna was crowded with females, a grand piano, my playpen on wheels, my impressive patriach father and lots of furniture. Summer and winter Baruch dressed formally in a three-piece suit, Homburg hat and gloves.

My mother, though she was running everything, the business, the household, had no power whatsoever. She was small and elderly at an early age, scoldy with occasional bouts of sweetness.

My crib stayed with me far longer than was customary. I had grown too big for it, but still got squeezed into it. In that baby crib I had spectacular nightmares of frightening creatures and people jumping off buildings.