Today is my dad’s birthday. He would have been 100 years old today. My dad was a violinist and fought in Germany in WW2. When he returned home he had to switch to the viola, because he couldn’t hear the high notes any more. He met my mom in Wiesbaden when they brought her to the POW camp he was in charge of. She had been captured in her home of Taganrog, Russia at the age of 16 in 1943 and sent to Germany to work for the Nazis. She spoke French, Russian and German. Happy birthday, Pop!
