Until the outbreak of the war, when I was 14 years old, I knew little about my parents’ families.
I knew that my mother was the only child of the Galpern family, and that she had relatives who had emigrated to the United States in the 1920s of the 19th century.
I also knew that my father had 2 brothers in the United States who had emigrated there at the beginning of the 19th century, and that my paternal grandmother
was still alive and had been sent together with us to Auschwitz.
After the war, while I was in Prague, I tried to locate my relatives in the United States — both on my father’s side and on my mother’s side. I made contact with the Yanowitz family, who to the best of my knowledge lived in New York; I learned that the family members were Faige-Baila and Shmuel Yanowitz, and that they had 3 children — Natan, Tzira, and Yosef.
I also succeeded in making contact with one of my father’s brothers, whose name was Yosef-David Fridberg, who lived in Norfolk, Virginia, in the United States. To my inquiries regarding the third brother, whose name was Hershel, I never received any reply.
Contact with the Yanowitz family continued throughout the years, while contact with my uncle — my father’s brother — was severed.
About a year ago I began searching anew for my family roots through the Internet and through companies in the United States that specialize in locating relatives.
I asked friends in Norfolk to visit the house at the address I had for my uncle, but it turned out that the house no longer existed — a skyscraper had been built in its place, and the residents did not know my uncle at all.
After many searches, primarily through the Jewish community and the management of the cemetery in Norfolk, I succeeded in obtaining information about my father’s family. The picture that emerged is as follows:
My uncle never married, left no family behind, and was killed in a traffic accident in 1968.
It begins with Hershel and Sara Fridberg, who lived in a village near Pruzhany and had 3 children — Lena Fridberg (Kanter) (1870), David Fridberg (Friedman) (1872), and Kalman Fridberg (1869), my late grandfather.
Lena and David emigrated to the United States in the second half of the 18th century and settled in Norfolk, Virginia. Kalman married Esther (my grandmother), and they had 3 sons — David (1889), Hershel (1890), and Moshe (1894), my father.
David and Hershel emigrated to the United States in the years 1907–1909.
Moshe married Tzira Galpern in Pruzhany, and they had 2 sons — Sioma (1921), my brother, and Avraham (1925) — that is me.
Lena married Ralph Kanter in Norfolk, Virginia, and they had 7 children — Emanuel (1897), Harry (1892), Gladys (1909), Rebecca (1904), Carol, Esther, and Sara.

Harry had 2 children, Harry-Lee (1926) and Marjorie (1930).
Marjorie is the only great-grandchild of Hershel and Sara, and grandchild of Lena and Ralph, who is still alive; she lives in Texas, in the United States.
David Fridberg (Friedman) married Fanny, and they had 4 children — Hanie, Harry, Cecilia, and Melvin.
Herb Weinberg (1913), Hanie’s only son, and Joan Ben Ami (1935), Cecilia’s only daughter, are still alive; they are great-grandchildren of Hershel and Sara, and grandchildren of David.
In summary —
4 great-grandchildren of Hershel and Sara Fridberg are still alive, and they are: Herb (Hershel) Weinberg, Marjorie Levy, Joan Ben Ami, and Avraham Harshalom — Fridberg (myself).
The Yanowitz family — whose parents were apparently cousins of my mother — had 3 children: Natan, Tzira, and Yosef; I knew all of them and we met on numerous occasions.
Natan passed away and had no children; Tzira is still alive at the age of 104 and also has no children; and Yosef, who has likewise passed away, left 2 children — Shmuel and Ruth.
I met with the Yanowitz family on several occasions during my visits to the United States, and I remain in contact with them to this day.

Several times I tried to visit Czechoslovakia after I had become a businessman, but the gates were closed to me. In fact, they were closed to me even more firmly than to other Israelis, because on the visa application form I had honestly answered “yes” to the question of whether I had previously lived in that country. The communist regime did not look upon this favorably.
After Czechoslovakia was freed from communism in the early 1990s, diplomatic relations between Czechoslovakia and Israel were restored, and I was once again able to travel there for a visit.
When I had established myself in life, I began investing resources and time in commemorating my roots in my hometown of Pruzhany, the struggle for survival in the concentration camps, the escapes, and the liberation in Czechoslovakia.
During the communist regimes in Eastern Europe it was nearly impossible to visit those places.
In 1987, after a business visit by the entire family to my business partners, the company “Winkia” in Belgium, I continued with my son for a visit to Auschwitz. During the visit to Auschwitz I received original documents in which my name was mentioned, and I promised the director of the museum that I would record my memories for the museum.
At that time the Poles permitted former Auschwitz prisoners to visit Poland. It was not possible to visit Czechoslovakia or my hometown of Pruzhany (which is now in the state of Belarus). After Czechoslovakia was freed from communism in the early 1990s, diplomatic relations between Czechoslovakia and Israel were restored. The President of Czechoslovakia, Vaclav Havel, came on a state visit to Israel, and I was invited to the reception held in his honor. Shortly thereafter I submitted another application to visit Czechoslovakia, and this time a visa was issued to me without any difficulties.
The first time I traveled alone, in an attempt to find all those I had known when I was there at the close of World War II and in the early years that followed. I found most of them and renewed my ties with them.
I returned and visited again with my eldest son and my daughter (my younger son was in the army at the time) in order to show them the places of my youth; I was received as an official guest, and a government car with a dedicated driver was placed at our disposal.
We visited the shop in Prague where I had been hidden when I first arrived there. The shop was still standing, but when we arrived it was closed.
Another encounter with the past took place in the context of the reconstruction of my life story, for the making of the film “Alive from the Ashes” — for my eightieth birthday — together with my children and grandchildren and a film crew, under the direction of my late friend Itzik Kol.

My last journey to Pruzhany, with a delegation of fellow townspeople, was for the inauguration of the memorial site at the old Jewish cemetery in the city, which had been destroyed.