Letters From the Lost (20 page)

Fanny’s words underscore the magnitude of all that has happened.

How much has changed in the course of a year! But you, dear children, all of you there, be of good cheer! You are the lucky ones. What sorrows there are here! I cannot begin to describe the suffering that people are experiencing.

Our own dear Martha is so worn down by the constant worries and upsets that she has positively turned gray. She is beside herself with anxiety. If only the Fränkels could come to you! That is our greatest worry. Now they are being asked for proof of origin of the parents on both sides of the family. The paperwork is taking forever.

Thankfully, your dear mother Resl is supposed to be doing very well, or so Emil informed us. He was here this week to meet Rudolf Ziegler. He has become quite slim as have we all, and he has asked me to send you his very best wishes. How gladly he’d help you with your work on the farm, if only it were possible! They want to send Erica to London.

My heart aches for these good people. Where are they all supposed to go? Leaving such a good way of life is painful.

In an undated letter also written in the fall of 1939, Fanny reports that among Else’s many visitors, there are some who are trying to send their children to England.
“How does one part with a child?”
I ask myself again.
“How does one know if the worst is yet to come?”

Today, as I watch my own toddler grandchildren seek shelter in their mother’s arms, I cannot imagine the courageous parents who prematurely parted with their children.

Fanny’s heart breaks for her daughter and for
“all these good people”
who are leaving. As she points out, they are not leaving in search of a better life but because their own peaceful existence has been shattered, much like the ultra-modern Bata shoe factory whose demise she describes.

My dear children,

I thank you very much for your kind and detailed letter and I am answering it right away so that we will soon be lucky enough to hear more news from you. How nice it is to read your letters, my dear children. I follow your lines while imagining everything in my mind.

Now the hay has been brought in. It was surely a more difficult undertaking than in than our little fields in Strobnitz, especially since you have so few wagons.

Here, the weather has been mostly bad. Sunday night we had such bad thunderstorms in the area between Iglau and Zlin (hailstones weighing ¼ kg.) that all crops were destroyed and the roofs of most houses were blown away or smashed. The Bata factory in Zlin was totally demolished. Its vaunted glass roof caved in and all the machines are unusable. Thousands of windowpanes have been reduced to a heap of shattered glass.

Now you will have finished unpacking the lift. Did everything arrive unbroken? Do you, dear Gretl, feel more comfortable in your new home? Is Helenka happy too to have her own things again? How many rooms are there in your house? And that reminds me, where do you get the wood for the stove? Do your woods produce some fuel? I have another idea. Could you create some kind of bathing facility in your little creek, even if it were only a Sitzbad? Could the water be dammed up?

Now I close with the sincerest of greetings and kisses to you, my dear Hellygirl and a request that you bring us pleasure soon again with your news. Your faithful mother Fanny.

I smile to be called
Helenchen
and at the idea of a Sitzbad in our mud-bottomed creek. From the house to the creek involved a good twenty-minute walk through the fields. Still, my grandmother’s questions speak to me of a vibrant curiosity that reflects the depth of her caring.

To her son Otto in Paris, Fanny writes a similar letter, but with a paragraph underscoring the difficulties that others are experiencing.

Sorrows are rampant here. Like headless chickens, people are scattering in all directions, not knowing what tomorrow will bring. People from Strobnitz have had to leave their homes, and all Jews are supposed to move to Prague in stages. Young people under 35 will be first on the list, and many will try to leave the country. My sister Jetty has been interrogated, but there is some doubt about whether she will be allowed to emigrate. They are claiming that her taxes have not been paid. She and her family have suffered so much, and they did not put enough money aside. The little cash that they have is being eaten up. Like others, they dread the future, imagining themselves penniless in a foreign land. And now, we have this latest decree—moving to Prague where life will be much more expensive than here in Budweis.

————

DESPITE ALL THAT HAS
happened, my grandfather Josef views himself as a lucky man.
“One of God’s favourites,”
he calls himself in his first post-war letter. He now accepts the fact that his entire family is planning to regroup in Canada. His joy is tempered only by his awareness of what is happening to the Jews in Europe.

Budweis, Sept. 26, 1939

With today’s letter we come to inquire about your well-being. We are in good health and hope the same is true of you all. Your last letter gave us great pleasure, as did the photos that we received this week. We are really impressed and everyone looks great, especially dear little Helly.

Still, when I look at you, dear Edi, my heart aches. How many rays of sun must burn down before a face becomes so blackened? But still, take a look at your magnificent achievements of the last few months. We are proud of what you own and of what you have accomplished.

I showed the pictures at F. P. today and everyone was full of enthusiasm. Mrs P. would gladly trade her whole house for what you have. Despite all your hard work, people here envy you. Here, there are young, strong Jews wandering about, unemployed. They would gladly work in return for a meal. Young Rosenberg goes to the brickyard every day to earn a handful of change for a whole week’s work.

And now, dear Edi, for your birthday I wish you all the best, especially an iron constitution, and may all your wishes come true. I hope that with the hard work and the energy that you are expending, you will advance further than here in Strobnitz.

I like to imagine that I am one of God’s favourites, and I pray that you will soon be well established. As soon as the Fränkels leave for Canada, half of us will be across the ocean.

It will be easier for Arnold and Vera. Be glad, dear Edi, that you have gotten so far ahead. When I look at your friends here, my heart aches. Everybody wants to emigrate, but nobody can. Nothing but problems.

I close for today, wishing you all the best again, my dear Edi. Regards to Gretl, Anny, Ludwig, and to my dear Helly-child. In my imagination, I still see her playing about in the garden in Strobnitz.

Your faithful Papa.

————

AS FALL TURNS TO WINTER
, Fanny worries about her adult children. Has Otto thought to pack warm underwear? She assures her son that she and his father will survive the winter by keeping their heads down and not drawing attention to themselves.

I am able to decline with thanks your question about whether we need anything for the household. We get everything that we need
here using ration cards, and you can otherwise be assured that we don’t lack anything. If we can receive good news from you children abroad, that is our joy.

My grandfather Josef’s letter to Otto is brief but melancholy. His loved ones are scattered in all directions and there is little to break the monotony of his days.

We were very pleased when we got your last letter. You are always the old Otto, always in a good mood, even in these hard times.

Thank God, we are all in good health, we have enough to eat and we are satisfied. If only God would grant us the good fortune to all be together again as a family. Sadly, you are now scattered about in all directions. This is not something we ever thought would happen.

I don’t know anything special for today. We had two letters from Edi via Prague. It is a delight to read these. He really hit the jackpot.

————

IN NOVEMBER, BOTH
Fanny and Josef write again. Visitors from Strobnitz have brought the village news, mostly about young people who have left or married or joined the army. These visitors have also brought the name of the villager who “took” the store. Like any legitimate owner, he is now pocketing the profits.

Fanny’s letter is her trademark blend of pertinent questions and worried motherly advice. Because our sows have failed to produce enough piglets, Fanny suggests that we not feed the brood sow so well, and that we give her
“more slimey food, not too rich”
so that she will produce more piglets. She advises us to plant “noble” trees in the orchard, like those bearing the winter apples that are shipped to Europe. Although she admits that plucking and gutting chickens is not a pleasant task, she suggests that it is easier in the long run and more profitable than transporting live chickens to market. In large measure, our life has become her life.

Believe me, dear children, I am running a farm in my thoughts and would dearly like to help you with yours.

Fanny seems obsessed by the issue of gathering fuel from the woods, and a variation of the same paragraph appears twice in her letter.

How are things with the fuel? Do your woods produce wood for burning? I beg you to be very careful, especially in chopping. You will remember well, dear Edi, the scare we had earlier.

My grandfather is less garrulous but clearly lonely for his family. He rues a way of life that now seems like a fairy tale. “
Someday, we will tell you everything,
” he promises my parents:

If at all possible, write us a letter again. A letter from you is a day of celebration for us. We do not hear much from Strobnitz. That was once upon a time.

A thousand kisses to my dear Helly-child.
Your faithful Papa.

Before forwarding the letter, Arnold and Vera add a few lines in the margins to reassure my parents that all is well.

We received your letter of October 9 addressed to Gretl’s parents. We ourselves have been without direct news from you for months. We are all doing well, and so far, everything is as it was. Do not worry. We are working and we have enough to eat.

————

MARTHA FRäNKEL’S
first letter after the outbreak of war contrasts sharply with the comforting words penned by Arnold and by my grandparents. My father’s sister indicates that the Fränkels are coping but, as predicted, the
fall has not been pretty. Clearly, she is speaking of more than the colour of the autumn leaves.

Prague, Oct. 17, 1939

My dear ones,

How precious your recent lines addressed to Gretl’s parents were for us! You can well imagine how happy we were to know that, thank God, you are all well. To be without news from you casts a shadow over our mood, especially since our thoughts always dwell with you.

In one of my last letters I wrote to you that the fall here was not going to be pretty, and it has not been. How nice it would have been if we had been with you in time for your harvest! But just as with Gretl’s parents Max and Resl, everything is a matter of fate, and we are all in God’s hands.

Your progress in the running the farm brings us great pleasure, and in our mind, we form nice pictures of everything. Dear Anny, I admire your business acumen. You are a woman of the times, and may Ludwig and everyone be happy with your ideas.

You, dear Gretelein, are probably already mistress within your sphere of expertise. With united strengths, you will soon create a nice agricultural enterprise. I keep seeing all of you in my mind. My dear little brother, how I’d love to give a few good kisses to you and to sweet Helly-child who is probably a very good little girl.

Sunday Max and Resl were here. I like them. They look well, thank God, but of course they would like most of all to be with you.

As Elsa has written, our little Dorly is walking already. She still wobbles a bit, but she is really cute in her ways. Ilserl can already speak Czech with her friends and Trude’s cousin is giving her English lessons free of charge. Unfortunately, the school here in the district of Straschnitz where we are staying is unhealthy and primitive.

Emil has been working hard as an apprentice shoemaker and he’s up to nine soles redone in a day. As of today he got a small job
as cashier at the emigration office of the nzo, the National Zionist Organization. Emil is delighted to have something to do. Besides, if there is no other way, then we will have to go to Palestine illegally if that becomes a possibility When all is said and done, one is only human, and this illness is supposed to last a long time.

Trude wrote us a moving letter of farewell. She is on her way to N. Y where her sister-in-law has opened a hat salon. They want to help us, but I can’t imagine how. We were very happy to have news from our brother Otto. I had been thinking of him all the time. Alone in a foreign country, he must experience events even more sharply. Yesterday we received a little 5 gr. package that he sent. It was touching. For the moment, we have enough to eat. Arnold has also just received a package from Otto. Our own dear parents in Budweis are doing quite well, thank God. Unfortunately they have to cope with all the new conditions, as do we all.

Now I want to close with the best of wishes. Stay very, very well, all of you!! You are heartily hugged and kissed by your Martha.

The letter ends with greetings from my cousin llserl whose handwriting has improved greatly despite the lack of formal schooling. I linger longest over her simple words.

Best regards and kisses from your Ilse

Over each detail of Martha’s letter, I reflect at length. With his usual foresight, Emil has taken on two jobs. Shoemaking, always a practical skill, was doubly so in 1939, given the reality that “every army marches on its feet.” Emil’s second job, his work at the office of the National Zionist Organization would provide a different advantage. It meant that Emil would be among the first to hear news of any opportunity for reaching Palestine safely.