This is George in front of the building that houses, among other things, the Urzad Stanu Cywilnego (Civil Records Office) in Przerosl.

Although I can't understand a word of the exchanges between George and the office staff, they appear to be eager to help – actually, I don't think it would be too much a stretch to say that they're excited that we're here. Przerosl is a small town in a far corner of Poland, off the main roads, and they probably don't get too many visitors. In fact, they tell George that, as far as they can remember, I'm the first American Jew who's come to them asking for information about his ancestors from Przerosl.

They have only a few small books of Jewish vital records; most of them seem to date from the turn of the century to about the time of World War I. Technically, they're not supposed to let us look through the books, as Polish privacy laws prohibit access to vital records that are less than 100 years old. However, as no Jews have lived in Przerosl for more than 50 years, there is nobody's privacy left to violate, so they let us look through the books. We scan the volume indexes – but alas, not a Myszkowski in sight.