"I'm like a virus!" he tells KimRon, as she explains the meaning of "going viral."
KimRon has also discovered more surprises about Bodner's family, including the fact that he had a baby brother, Josef, who died in Auschwitz.
Bodner's birth father also died there but his mother, Roza Gottesman-Berger, not only survived several Nazi concentration camps, but returned to her home village of Stroino on the Ukraine-Hungary border, hoping to find her children.
"I saw her signature on the document registering her acceptance of war aid, and the hair stood up on the back of my neck," KimRon recalls.
"I am not a graphologist, but you could see, or I think anyway, she had character, strength despite all that had happened. And she listed the names of her sons too. It was as if she was saying: 'I am here. I am still here.'"
That document is the last evidence of Ruth Gottesman-Berger. KimRon doesn't know exactly what happened to her, though stories from extended family members and villagers say that shortly after her return, she was rounded up with other returning Jewish refugees and shot dead by Nazi-sympathizers.
KimRon says she has no way of confirming that.
The thought of his mother returning to their home village in search of her children makes Bodner both sad and proud.
"I am proud of this woman who did not lose hope and continued to look for us," he tells CNN. "It was a difficult journey in terrible conditions. I would not believe someone could survive all that.
"I think I am also a survivor. Maybe it's in the genes. Maybe it's in my brother's genes as well. We just keep going."
Last year, Bodner returned to the village where he was born for a visit. He met neighbours who described his family as happy, his father a well-regarded doctor and his mother a talented seamstress. They told him they remembered the boisterous blonde twins who played near the house.
"I closed a circle," he says. "It was just good to know that what I was dreaming was real and not my imagination."
Bodner knows only too well that even if he finds Jeno, it may be too late.
Asked what he would say to his brother, his answer is stoic.
"I'm sorry that I did not start looking for him sooner," he says quietly. "There were so many years that I was afraid of even touching the subject."
The search for Jeno is a source of both joy and pain for Bodner, but he is committed to finishing it.
There is one more discovery that has surprised him: His birthday. Until now, he had always celebrated January 27, 1945, the day he left Auschwitz, as his birthday, instead of his real date of birth. So, which day does he choose to celebrate now?
"Both, of course!" he says with a smile. "There is a lot to celebrate."