I am way too old and nobody believes me anyway. You’re too young to understand and wouldn’t believe me if I told you that that bridge, yes, that bridge up there connecting those two old buildings is an exact replica from Prague after the Second World War. It represents the love, though short-lived, that connected two families, who would have otherwise hated each other during a time of chaos and countless unnecessary public street killings…and with gun, mind you!

On one side lived my father’s family, all Germans- aunts and uncles, their spouses and lots of cousins, and friends. Everyone was present before, during and after my birth. The joy and happiness of being together, being connected like a bridge, made everyone forget about the fighting outside. German grandmother demanded that even my reluctant uncle Olivier, a low level Nazi soldier who always obeyed his superiors, be present during my secret birth. Already 35 and limited, they knew he’d never have a family of his own. He was probably jealous.

The other side of the street lived, my mother’s side. All Jewish. More aunts, uncles, their spouses and lots of cousins, and always new family friends who needed a temporary place to hide. Because my father, I was told by those who raised me, was so crazy in love with my mother, he had to keep them indoors to spare them Nazi cruelty. He was some kind of high-ranking Nazi officer.

Even though I resembled the German side, both sides worked together with plans to care for me, which is why the bridge was created. My grandmothers were childhood friends and called the shots. There was a rumor that Jewish grandmother once saved the life of my German grandmother when they were teenagers who lived in the area. They were best friends and inseparable. The bridge helped them move quickly to the opposite building without using the stairs in their later years.

Growing up, I was told by my surviving relatives that my parents were secretly married after they had me. Then disappeared soon after. Never seen again.

It was later, when I was 21, that my cousin revealed while drunk during an Oktoberfest celebration that both sides of my family were taken out into the street and executed by Nazi soldiers an hour after my birth. It was my German grandmother who quickly hid me and successfully escaped Prague leaving me and her wealth to childless couple for safe passage to America.

My German grandmother was caught, detained then eventually executed for her actions due to Uncle Olivier.

With my inheritance years later, I created an exact replica of the bridge that represented the unique connection and love between my German and Jewish families shared during a most turbulent time.