Tales from My Father's Home Kupishok, Lithuania
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Every man has a story - his own life story. It starts in his father's home, in the fields and meadows of a man's childhood. This, undoubtedly, is the nucleus. This nucleus is well preserved, and it blossoms on rare occasions in the conditions which stimulate growth. The development of the story is not continuous. It has its breaks and winter slumber, but it awakens and presses on with some changes. Occasionally, it repeats itself but in other cases sails on to unexpected destinations. This is the way my story moves too. It opens in the small township of Kupishok, which, for me, includes the wh...
Every man has a story - his own life story. It starts in his father's home, in the fields and meadows of a man's childhood. This, undoubtedly, is the nucleus. This nucleus is well preserved, and it blossoms on rare occasions in the conditions which stimulate growth. The development of the story is not continuous. It has its breaks and winter slumber, but it awakens and presses on with some changes. Occasionally, it repeats itself but in other cases sails on to unexpected destinations. This is the way my story moves too. It opens in the small township of Kupishok, which, for me, includes the whole of my Lithuania, the Jewish Lithuania, the Lithuania that is gone forever. The Lithuanian stories started in my hometown. When I left the country, the stories continued to accompany me. Nevertheless, the story inclination has become even stronger after the great ruin. Moreover, the experiences that I used to consider meaningless and unimportant appear today as significant and worth describing.
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