…scanned from my archive. There are very few pictures of me with both my parents, this is one of the very few. Maybe there was a purge after the divorce. After I was born my parents lost three children in secession and that soon led to a divorce, not the happiest of times for them. Pretty standard Christmas fare for the 1950’s, a sled, a truck and a cowboy outfit. But what's up with that mangy tree? See more photos

…scanned from my archive. This is one of my favorite photos of my parents, the only one of my father wearing a yarmulke. My parents both came from extremely different backgrounds and that may have had something to do with their attraction to each other. My mother’s nice Jewish quiet home life may have seemed very stable and attractive to my father, while my father’s crazy German Catholic, running from the Nazis all over Europe, background may have seemed adventurous to my mother. Although I don't think adventurous is what my father would use to describe his childhood.

…scanned from my archive. My father’s early life entailed being shuttled around Europe to different schools and extended stays with various relatives as his mother and step-father kept on the run from rising Nazi powers. He talked to me about strict and abusive nuns at a parochial school, probably behind his life long dismissal of religion. When war broke out he was in Great Britain and so joined the british Army in hopes of fighting the Nazis. He knew that if he was captured with his family name of Bardenhewer, he could be shot as a traitor, so a phonebook in Trafalgar Square became the determining factor in his new name, a nice English name for a British soldier – Bennett. As things go, he ended up being shipped to Burma as a corporal in the tank corps and spent the war fighting the Japanese. See more photos

…scanned from my archive. Whenever I hear those two old Drifter songs, Up on the roof and Under the Boardwalk, I think of Brighton Beach, where my mother grew up and I spent many childhood hours playing on and under resepctively. One of these is the view from my Mom’s window, the other is my grandmother on the roof of their apartment. My grandfather spent hours playing chess on the roof as well. There are just so many pictures of my family on the boardwalk and the roof, these places were really the center of life there for so many people. My parents even met for the first time on the beach right in front of Brighton Fourth Street, she was waiting on the sand for a date and my father came by started chatting her up before her date arrived. As my friend Neal mentioned, looking back over our family and parents history, it is amazing how many things had to fall into place just for us to come into existence. Thanks Dad! See more photos

…scanned from my archive. My Grandparents travel papers to France. Here is an excerpt from a recent article about them, long but pretty fascinating - "Gertrude with her social grace and skill and knowing full well that they were in mortal danger as political targets in 1939 during WW2 both from Nazis and Russians, steered them on foot, at night mostly, over the mountains from Switzerland to France.

The Zetkins had old friends in Paris who hid them in the French countryside where Kostja worked as a masseur and labourer. After Hitler occupied France they were they were eventually caught and imprisoned for four months by the Vichy Authorities. Luck was on their side: they were not recognized by the German authorities which would have meant an immediate death sentence by firing squad.

It was Gertrude who spotted and secretly negotiated with a sympathetic Prison Commandant. When she nervously felt him out on his political leanings and she confessed to him their real identities, he paused and quietly said, “We cannot have the son of Clara Zetkin in a prison cell”.

Even at the height of the War in Nazi Occupied France, the names of Clara Zetkin and Rosa Luxemburg could be passports to freedom. Such was the regard of ordinary people for these iconic heroes who had championed social justice in Europe for the previous half- century. People willingly risked everything on more than one occasion to save Gertrude and Kostya.

Gertrude’s astute judgment in assessing social realities allowed them to be quietly released and smuggled to safety in Spain and onward to Gertrude’s son, Lucas Bennett in New York in 1945."

…scanned from my archive. My Mother’s family settled into the multi ethnic enclave of Brighton Beach. Although mostly Jewish from Eastern Europe, neighbors included Greek, Italian and a host of other countries. My Grandfather Boris, set up a photo studio in the storefront of their building on Brighton 4th Street. It was actually right on the boardwalk and got a lot of foot traffic, especially on weekends, which meant as a kid you either hung around the studio or played on the beach across the way. Back then being a photographer entailed also being a chemist, mathematician, social director and artist for retouching. Unfortunately when he sold the business, all the plates, negatives, and cameras went with it. See more photos

…scanned from my archive. My father didn’t have the happiest of childhoods, he was being raised by a single mother in the 1920’s in Germany, which couldn’t have been easy for either of them. I was told stories of him being tied up to a tree during the day so his mother could work, although I find this a bit dramatic, but who knows. The rise of Nazism would soon encroach on his life in a major way, but there were a few happy Summers that he spent with his mother and aunt in a beach town on the North Sea called St. Peter-Ording. These are some of the only childhood photos I have of him, he looks happy. I was named for the town. See more photos

…scanned from my archive. My paternal Grandmother Gertrude wanted to have a child with artistic genes, so she went to a famous artist colony in Worpesvede, Germany, where she found a handsome young artist named Tetjus Tügel (that's him on the left with well known artist Heinrich Vogeler on right in 1920). She proceeded to get knocked up and promptly left after my father’s birth. Quite the free spirit!

…scanned from my archive. My maternal Grandfather Boris escaped his prison camp in Siberia and went to Japan where he met up with his first cousin Fanny. They got married, and yes, this explains a lot, and no, further comments are not necessary. Moved from Japan to Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. Quit a trip! I think this was taken in my Grandfather’s photo studio on the Brighton Beach boardwalk and the print was displayed in the shop window. One day a thief smashed the glass, the only thing stolen - my grandmother's print!

…scanned from my archive. Gertrude Zetkin, my Grandmother on my Father’s side. This is her as a doctor in WWI in the German Army. It was not common for women to serve as doctors back then, but during wartime…

Boris Lenoff, my Grandfather on my Mom’s side. Being a Jew in the Russian army didn’t go over too well. At one point, he was ordered by a superior officer to clean the latrines. He thought as an officer he was not required to do this, and so refused. As a result he was confined to quarters to await trial for refusing a direct order. Knowing what was in store for him he got a pass, travelled in Russia, through Siberia, into Japan. He lived there and studied photography before emigrating to the United States.