With a pencil stuck behind his ear, he used his tape to measure the chest, waist, and hips, the shoulders, jacket length, and sleeves, first to the elbows, then to the wrist. Then he moved down to the pants, measuring the length on the outside of the leg to the top of the shoe, and then on the inside, from the crotch to the shoe top. Mother generally stood by and wrote the measurements in a notebook as Father announced them. When Mama was not around, Tatus recorded the information in the notebook himself.

After measuring, Papa cut the fabric to his customer's dimensions. Tailors in the workshop stitched canvas on the lapels, collar, and front of the garment to give the fabric body; then they basted the front portion of the garment to the back and to the sleeves. After basting, the customer came in for a first fitting. Father made all the necessary alterations to be sure the garment would fit well, then scheduled an appointment for a second fitting.

In the course of the second fitting, he made final adjustments to the garment, double-checking the length of the sleeves and pants.

The customer, viewing himself in our full-length mirror, saw how the garment fit and envisioned how it would look upon completion. Father informed the customer when the clothing would be finished and ready to be picked up.

In addition to assisting with fittings, Mama kept the books and accounts for the business. When Papa had a hernia operation she ran the shop singlehandedly, taking measurements for suits and coats, cutting the fabric and fitting garments on customers until Papa recovered and was well enough to resume work.

Beyond the foyer was our bedroom, a cheerful room with the sun shining in the morning through white tailored curtains onto our beige furniture. In the winter my parents used a down quilt to cover themselves. When making the double bed in the morning, Mother put a wooden form on top of the quilt to make the bed appear perfectly even and tailored and on top placed a shining satin yellow bedspread. The form was made of wooden boards about two inches in width and one-half inch in height that crisscrossed to create square patterns. Hinges connected the squares in several places so the form could be folded and stored when not in use at night. Two night tables flanked the bed, and an armoire and chest completed the set. My crib was located at the far end of the bedroom.

To the left of the foyer was our kitchen. Cabinets, cupboards, and credenzas for dishes, utensils, as well as pots and pans, lined the walls, surrounding a dining table and chairs. On one wall of the kitchen was a rectangular black-iron coal stove, which had a range with four heating units, an oven for baking, and a built-in container for heating water. Mama and Papa heated the stove with kindling and added coke or coal to keep the fire going from morning through evening.

Once a month a truck filled with coal made a delivery to our house. Workers attached a chute from the truck to a window in the cellar and coal poured out down the chute. Once, when one of Father's tailors, Israel "Srulek" Rozanski, went down to the cellar to fetch some coal, I followed and saw to my amazement a large black mountain lying in one corner of the cellar. We used coal not only for cooking but also for heating the home and the irons. Later on Tatus would switch to electric-powered irons.

As our workers arrived in the morning, Father asked whether they had eaten breakfast. Those who had not would join us at the kitchen table.

Past the kitchen was our workshop, packed with Singer sewing machines, a large table for cutting fabrics, heavy irons and ironing boards, and a headless dummy. Boards with damp furs nailed to them were left to stretch and dry, and bales of fabric lay on the shelves, part of Papa's large selection of material from which customers could choose for their suits and coats. In a separate room were additional sewing supplies, threads, linings, canvas, and in the cellar Tatus kept more material, trimming, padding, and buttons.

Among Papa's clients were some of the most prominent residents of Tomaszow, factory owners, lawyers, doctors, and even nobility. Once during the winter Papa took Romek and me along to Count Jan Ostrowski's home when he went to deliver several suits and coats and fit new garments for the count. We rode through Count Ostrowski's estate in a large, shining, black-and-red sled, pulled by a pair of horses that Tatus had hired. Our sleigh bells tinkled with a fine, delicate sound that broke the calm silence of the pristine woods. Icicles hanging from thin pine needles shone and sparkled as fine flakes fell silently on the snow-covered road of the count's estate. That beautiful scene—so long ago—captures the wonderful life I had with my family during my early childhood and the promise it held. But the extreme cruelty and hatred of the Nazis and Hitler would unalterably change our lives from idyllic to tragic.

Before she married, Mama taught dressmaking to her sister Eva Tenenbaum. But now Tatus advised Aunt Eva to work for him. He taught her how to make vests, promising it would be more lucrative than dressmaking.

"I made nice money, just like the men in the shop, because at that time I was very fast. I used to make two vests, custom vests, in one day," said Eva.

Papa employed a dozen workers, each specializing in a specific aspect of suit manufacturing. His apprentice was Srulek Rozanski, with whom he signed a contract promising to teach him the art of tailoring within a period of three years as required by the tailors' guild.

Though our family spoke Polish in the house, a reflection of the fact that we were among the more modern wave of Polish Jews, the language of the shop was Yiddish. Throughout our apartment Papa's tailors sat, conversing in Yiddish, as they created the finest garments in town.