I was born in Amsterdam, Holland in May,1937. My parents had come from small towns in Germany, thinking, as many others at that time did, that Amsterdam was far enough away from the danger of the Germans.

I went into hiding in May, 1943 in Enschede (a Dutch town near the German border) at first with my parents and later alone. We all survived in hiding with Christian families, as did my grandfather and 4 of my father’s sisters.

In 1948, I moved to New York City with my parents, where I grew up and went to school. I am married and we have been blessed with children and grandchildren.

And now, here is the Search:

While I was living in Amsterdam, my parents were friendly with a family that had twins, close to my age. I do not remember the family name but the children’s first names were Marion and Stefan.

They were born in 1937 or 1938 and I remember being at their apartment for a birthday party. They were probably turning 4 years old and were both in bed with the measles.

The reason I am looking for them is because their father worked at the Joodse Raad and when my parents and I were taken to the Schouwburg for deportation, Marion and Stefan’s father was there.

The third time that we were about to be deported, we were sitting with other Jews, near the open end of the truck on the way to the railroad station. The truck was waiting in front of the Schouwburg because it was forming a convoy with other trucks. It was late at night, probably May 24, 1943.

Marion and Stefan’s father, in his role with the Joodse Raad came to the truck and said softly “Who is here on the truck?” and my father answered with his name: “Fritz Rose” and the man said “Quickly, jump off” which my father did, pulling my mother and me behind him.

It was a terribly foggy night and no one saw us. No one followed us. We ran across the street to the Creche and spent the night there. The next day, my father arranged for us to go into hiding.

The family described above also survived the war and came to the US. I remember visiting them once and they had an ashtray which had been engraved around the border with the following saying: “Vanavond worden we niet gehaalt” meaning (roughly), “Tonight we will not be picked up”.

I would very much like to reestablish contact with that family. The children may not even be aware of this story and I would like to share it with them.

In Amsterdam, I went by the name Marianne Rose. If anyone can help me, I would be very appreciative.