A personal odyssey and a story of survival. A collection of “letters forward” to my two small grandchildren, who may not have me around as they grow to adulthood. It will introduce them to the world of my childhood and youth. It will also acquaint them with some of their forbears who perished in Poland during World War II and until this writing were a nameless collection of discarded photographs in an old shoe-box. My story covers the most eventful decade of my life, 1939-1949. During that time I grew from childhood to adulthood, survived the Holocaust, traveled and lived in six different countries, and experienced Nazism, Communism and Zionism. On the last day of October 1949 after crossing the Atlantic from Sweden on the MS Gripsholm, my dream came true when I stepped ashore at Pier 99, on West 59th Street and the Hudson River, in Manhattan. The title of my narrative comes from a ritual I engaged in, while in the Srodula Ghetto in Poland, at the height of the deportation of Jews to Auschwitz in 1942-1943. Whenever I ran to, or from home at the age of 13 I tried to avoid stepping on the cracks in the pavement. I convinced myself that no harm would come to me and my family if I don't step on the cracks, and that this would help me survive the war.