My relatives in Kosiv

The next day, we headed for Kuty, on the Romania border.  I'd found testimony in Yad Vashem indicating that 2 of Mom's siblings probably died trying to escape to Romania. First, we visited the Latashev family, Kuty's only remaining Jews. Alik Latashev is an amazing man and not only because he fed me well at his extraordinary home. He davens in Vishnitz for the holidays and spent 2 years in Israel with his wife serving in the army. His mother was hidden in a bunker near the Cheromosh River (part of the border between Rumania and the Ukraine).  She miraculously survived, though her faith in God and Judaism didn't and she wound up marrying a non-Jewish person and bringing up her children without any yiddishkeit at all. Her daughter continued that tradition and her children are today, Jehovah's witnesses, but her son, Alik, came back and continues to live a Jewish life and to bring up his only daughter surrounded by things Jewish. Mom didn't want to leave them, but we had a schedule to keep.

Next, Alex brought us to a connection of his in Kuty; he seems to have them all over. He was a non-Jewish older man in his 80's, who came out to greet us when Alex called to him from the fence as he usually does. We sat with him and chatted as his legs could not support him for long. He never heard of any Baders dying on the border but told us that you had only a 50/50 chance of making it across the Cheromosh.  Many Jews were betrayed by the ferrymen as soon as the fellows got the money. Based on the testimony at Yad Vashem, Mom's siblings Shimon and Esther Bader, almost certainly have watery graves.

This man knew Mom's mother, Ethel, who I am named for, and confirmed that she came from Kuty and told us she was a German teacher in the local school before she left for Kosiv to be Ezra's wife.

I asked Alex to ask him again if he knew any Baders from Kosiv, but he insisted he didn't. I gave him some shekels and we were on our way, until it was my turn to do an about-face and run back.  Without giving him the chance to stand or go inside, I yelled, "Woloshtchuk!" He nodded!  I had Alex explain the whole thing, asking him if he knew such a man, who saved Jews, who had a son and 2 daughters and who, Mom had recently remembered, was a barber. He nodded again and said: "Voitek." He said he was athletic and he played soccer against him in Kuty, though Voitek lived in Kosiv. I thanked him with a racing heart and tears in my eyes, gave him more shekels and we left.  I thought we'd rush back to Kosiv to look for Voitek Woloshtchuk.

However, Alex was hungry.  We found a restaurant, but Ukrainians do not understand the concept of "quick service" and will take easily 45 minutes to bring food to the table.  I masked my frustration as best I could and gulped down my food and drink. My heart was still racing by the time we got back to Kosiv. Alex bolted into the post office but found no Voitek, at which point he called every other Woloshtchuk in the book in the hope of finding him. It would not be till the next day when someone called him back and said they knew Voitek, but that he had died long ago, after moving with his family to Poland. We would have to leave the rest to Alex as that strand withered in my sweaty palm, the way many leads do in Kosiv.

The only other thing to report from that day was that while driving, Mom again said, "Stop the car"!  She had recognized the bank of stores that Chaim owned near the Muskowlufka Bridge. We parked, and she ran inside one store selling insurance, Alex and I trailing her.  Sure enough, the woman behind the counter confirmed that it had been a Jewish store. She said she'd ask her mother if she remembered the name Bader. And that's how our day ended...