I think I remember

I am not sure how to do this, so I am just writing.
When I was very little, still in a high chair, I remember a man which I now know was my father peeking around the door and saying peek a boo.
At the time I didn't really know where I was or who he was or even who I was. It just was.
Now its a memory. How do I know ? Well when I was much older I told this to my mother
she said she could not believe I remembered but knew she had never discussed it with me so it had to be a memory
At the time I was less than a year, and she was waiting for my father to come home from prison. Again

The next thing I can remember is sitting in my highchair and watching the neighbors play cards. There was a fight and one of the ladies was hit over the head with a bottle and there was blood everywhere. It was many years later when I spoke to my mother that I realized it was blood. At the time I  did not know blood or even the color red. I was crying due to the noise of people screaming.
It was 1940 and my mother was pregnant. My father was back in jail.
Mom was working as a janitor in the brownstone we lived in so we would have place to live.
She worked at night stoking coal in the furnace, and mopping the hallway so that no one would know the owner hired a woman, and a pregnant one at that. That is why I was in the apartment watching them play cards.
It was difficult but she kept a roof over our heads and some food in our mouths.

The next thing I remember was my birthday party, my father brought me twin dolls. I was so happy. The next morning the dolls were gone.  Mom said he probably sold them or returned them to get some money. I guess I was about 3 or 4 not sure. I did not think much about her explanation, things came and went. I was too young to really think about the reasons why or even how.  We were living in the Williamsburg Housing Project, a good enough place I suppose.

Next thing I knew my father was gone again, my brother and I were in the after school class at the projects while my mother worked. One day we both became ill, coughing and puking.

My mother took us to the hospital and we stayed there for several days. I don't remember the name, but think it was Kings County since that is the hospital I remember when I got older. We were in different wards as in those days around 1946 or 1947 Boys and Girls were not put in the same wards. Now a days hospitals have private and semi-private rooms

Then the poor had only the wards, about 6 or 8 beds in one giant room. I remember hiding under the bed whenever the nurse would come with that huge needle and how angry she would be, having to pull me out.

From the hospital we were sent to a catholic residential school for children so mom could continue to work while we healed. They said we had a really difficult case as the whooping cough and measles came at the same time.

The sisters  did not like me being there since I was a Jew and they called me Christ Killer. I was forced to eat my meals separated from the other children as they were all good Catholics, my brother was in the boys section and I did not get to see him often. My mother would bring delicia bars from the factory where she worked, but as soon as she left the sisters would take them away. Christ Killers do not deserve sweets they would say. I needed to learn how to suffer for my sin of being born a Jew.