Mitzi’s only child, Chaim Adler—who had met Alice at the dock when she arrived in Israel by boat in 1949—drove her to the airport in Tel Aviv. When the time came to board the flight, Alice and her nephew embraced. In that moment, a half century of memories passed unspoken between them. Then Alice walked resolutely toward the departure gate.
Raphaël had settled permanently in London with his wife, Sylvie Ott, and their two small sons, David and Ariel, combining his concert career with the security of a teaching position in Manchester. Some years after his marriage ended amicably in 1978, he fell in love with Geneviève Teulières, a French woman he had known decades earlier when they were fellow students in Paris. When Rafi became a professor of cello at Guildhall School of Music in London he gave up his commute to Manchester to spend more time at home.
Recognizing his mother’s advanced age, Rafi and Geneviève encouraged Alice to retire from teaching and move to London. Alice had learned rudimentary English as a child, and she had practiced it whenever possible and especially on her visits to England, which had been getting longer over the years; perfecting the language did not present the same challenges she had faced with learning Hebrew. Alice loved the vibrant musical life in London, the massive trees and sprawling ivy everywhere, and the way “everything is available.” But while she enjoyed the cooler English summers, her son was the only reason she made so many trips.
When Rafi asked his mother to move permanently to London to be near him, she was, at first, resistant to the idea. Retirement was an unfamiliar concept to Alice. She could not imagine life without work. “Why should I stop teaching?” she asked. Alice was perfectly healthy and felt that she was needed by her Israeli students. “I love my students and they love me,” she told her son. It even felt ungrateful to Alice to leave the country that had given her the chance to rebuild her life. And it was the nation that had educated her son, the land he had served for two years in the military. Rafi was exempt from national service because he was a Holocaust survivor and an only child. Yet he and Alice agreed that he should give back to the nation that had welcomed them when they were stateless. Alice was proud of Rafi for playing cello in the army orchestra and saxophone in the band.
Alice would be leaving nephews and nieces and their children behind. She would have to face all of the endless details that make life work, from finding a new doctor and pharmacy and trying a different diet to learning her way around the city and all its cultural activities. But after she had made the decision to immigrate, her optimism took over and she proceeded determinedly to make plans for the next phase of her life. The apartment she had purchased in London was a one-room pied-à-terre and not nearly large enough for her precious Steinway grand piano. She had no choice but to sell the instrument and to give away most of her furniture. As the date of her departure approached, the process became more automatic and less emotional. After all, Alice had never been attached to material possessions. In the end she shipped her upright piano, photographs, and other small mementos to her new home, arriving in England with little more than the clothes on her back, and settling into a space less than half the size of her comfortable flat in Jerusalem.
From her first days in London’s Hampstead section Alice established a routine that would help to keep her physically strong. She began her day with a walk to a swimming pool where she would exercise for an hour. Since childhood she had been a strong swimmer, and she was accustomed to walking everywhere in Jerusalem in the same way that she had explored Prague on foot. When she returned home Alice would practice the piano for at least three hours, which always sustained her spirits. During the first few months, as word spread in the Czech and Israeli émigré communities that Alice was living in London, a handful of students found their way to her door. Without losing time she began to attend concerts and make new and lasting friends. Alice was anxious to reestablish her independence despite the fact that she had moved to be near her son and her grandchildren.
In 1986, not long after her move to England, eighty-three-year-old Alice was diagnosed with breast cancer. Rafi went with his mother to the doctor’s appointment, where they explored her treatment options. The concerned surgeon, not wanting to alarm her, explained in great detail that breast cancer in an older woman did not carry the same implications it did for those much younger. “We can do surgery—that is, we can remove your breast. But your recovery will take some time, and because of your advanced age, the risks from the anesthesia and the surgery itself are more significant.”
“What will happen if you do not do surgery?” Alice asked.
“Well, at your age,” the doctor began again, “the tumors grow more slowly. The chances of your living long enough to suffer the most severe effects of this cancer are very low.”
With that answer, Alice gave Rafi her most insulted look before responding with “In this case I want the surgery. How soon can it be done? Cancers must be removed.”
Rafi chimed in, “Doctor, my mother is otherwise healthy. She swims at least one mile daily and eats a healthy diet. Do not think of her as old.”
Laughing, she says, “It is twenty-five years later and I am still here. My son was right.”
Alice’s piano playing, her great good humor, and her interest in nearly everything from literature to the lives of elephants and philosophy touched Valerie Reuben, a former publishing executive who lives in the same apartment house as Alice. Increasingly intrigued with the elderly pianist, Mrs. Reuben suggested that Alice attend classes with her at the University of the Third Age.
Founded at Cambridge University by social entrepreneurs, the University of the Third Age is a university in the ancient and original sense of a group that gathers for the stated purpose of study. Alice’s most inspiring teacher there is Ralph Blumenau, the author of Philosophy and Living. According to Blumenau, the university “is not actually a university in the normal sense, in that it has no examinations and awards no qualifications, but exists for retired people who wish to keep their minds active.” The largest division of the university, near Alice’s home, boasts more than 140 courses and fifteen thousand members. The teachers are all volunteers, and some classes run themselves, with the students leading the research and giving lectures; yet the course work is hardly less stringent than if one were studying for a degree.
Alice seized the opportunity and immediately enrolled in two classes: one on modern European history and the other on the works of Spinoza and Kant. It did not take long for her fellow students and the professors to see that Alice was unlike most of the other students. She would read and reread the assigned texts and boldly ask piercing questions, challenging the professors at each session. On the topic of historical study, she brought up the issue of accuracy and reliable interpretation. “How do you know when a historian is prejudiced and presents the facts in a twisted way to prove his premise?” Alice asked. And more than once she engaged in a discussion of which discipline should be studied first, history or philosophy. Alice had found, as a lay student, that she understood philosophy most clearly when it was presented against the historical times of the philosopher or through some decisive life experience.
Alice’s interest in philosophy had been sparked when her brother-in-law Felix Weltsch introduced her to the subject while he was studying for his Ph.D. at Charles University. But it was not until she began to study philosophy formally at the University of the Third Age that she was able to delve into the works of Spinoza. Professor Blumenau had impressed her with his extraordinary book, which explained the way ancient philosophers influence our ethics and our attitudes toward life and the world around us.
After Rafi’s untimely death in 2001, Alice turned to the search for meaning in her life more passionately than ever. How could she explain all she had seen? How could she continue to live with and beyond her greatest tragedy? Reading Spinoza, she gained insight into the events of her own life. Though the philosopher died more than two hundred years before Alice was born, his thoughts struck her as app
licable to her own time, and they resonated with her beliefs. A natural existentialist, Alice had always felt that no one is all good or all evil, and that it is up to the individual to cope with both sides of his or her nature. Alice herself tried to concentrate on the best in every situation she faced. Spinoza argued that God and Nature are synonymous and that, just as God and Nature are infinite, both good and evil are part of what we call existence. He believed that everything is connected to everything else; that we must love God, but that God does not necessarily love us; and that a life of reason and knowledge is the highest virtue. For Spinoza, Existence is God.
Alice accepts Spinoza’s explanation of the concept of God. Although he was accused of being an atheist, Spinoza was a deeply spiritual person who loved the infinite God. Based on his philosophy, Spinoza became a prophet of democratic values, separation of church and state, and tolerance among nations and people. The American forefathers who drafted the Constitution of the United States in the eighteenth century were profoundly influenced by Spinoza’s modern ideas. And breaking with the very strict Portuguese-Spanish orthodox beliefs of his youth, Baruch Spinoza pleaded for authentic faith rather than a dogmatic or gullible religion.
Alice looked to Arthur Schopenhauer and Friedrich Nietzsche for their thoughts on music. She never tires of quoting both of them from memory. Alice reminds those who might not take the time to go to a concert or pay for their child’s music lessons that Nietzsche wrote, “Without music life would be a mistake.” Although Alice loves poetry and painting and architecture, she agrees with Schopenhauer that music is the highest of all the arts.
Alice continued to attend classes three times each week at the university until she was 104 years old. She is a strong believer in formal learning as a major factor in longevity, in keeping our minds as well as our bodies active and positive. And although today Alice no longer leaves her home to attend classes, her beloved Professor Blumenau has become so committed to Alice that he visits her at least once each semester for an afternoon of philosophical discussion.
INTERLUDE
Chicken Soup
Around twenty-five years ago, Alice established disciplined eating habits that have not varied. In order to conserve her most precious and finite commodity, time, as well as for health reasons, she decided to eat the same meals each day. This would preclude wasting valuable moments trying to decide what to cook or eat. She could save time because her weekly shopping list would never vary. After she had cooked for the week, ten minutes to reheat and eat the food was the limit. Beyond that, she felt, the meal was not worthwhile.
Alice feels no nostalgia for the complicated and lavish cream-laden dishes from her childhood under the Hapsburg Empire. She rejects them outright and opts for healthy simplicity. Having decided that caffeine is harmful for her, she has eliminated all tea and coffee, as well as wine or any form of alcohol. She begins her daily regimen with a slice of toast topped with a piece of feta cheese. Half a banana or an apple and a cup of hot water complete her first meal of the day. For lunch and dinner she eats a bowl of chicken soup.
Alice sips hot water throughout the day and occasionally snacks on fruit. On most days, however, she eats nothing else—unless a visitor brings chocolates, a home-baked cake, or a lemon meringue pie, all of which she enjoys immensely. Although Alice has accrued disciplined life habits, she has never been rigid. “I am very independent” has been one of her mantras, and the diet she devised for herself was one that she could prepare alone well into her 105th year. Because of her failing vision and sometimes unsteady walk, Alice has finally agreed to substitute her lunch of chicken soup for meals on wheels. Still, at age 108 she manages her own breakfast and supper of toast and cheese and leftovers from lunch. Of course she misses her chicken soup, but she is enthusiastic about the hot midday meal of some kind of meat or chicken and two small servings of vegetables, which arrives promptly at one in the afternoon in its small black plastic container. Most of all she enjoys welcoming the smiling faces of the young delivery men or women, who greet her by name. Observing her eagerly opening and relishing the unappetizing-looking contents of the package, her friend Anita teases her, saying, “You are the only person in the world who loves that food.” “It tastes good to me, I am hungry,” Alice counters as she ravenously digs in. Yet the occasional gift from a thoughtful neighbor or friend of homemade chicken soup continues to be the nectar of the gods for Alice.
Until she was past ninety, Alice baked a luscious apple cake for her guests. The recipe she learned from her mother had been handed down from her Moravian grandmother. Central Europeans have always been fond of dense cakes made with nuts and fruit that can be eaten at any time of the day. Alice often served it to her guests at teatime.
CHICKEN SOUP
Ingredients
2 large onions, coarsely chopped 2 large garlic cloves, chopped 5 stalks celery, cut into 3-inch pieces 8 carrots, sliced
½ green pepper, chopped
2 parsnips, chopped
1 small tomato, chopped
¼ cup fresh parsley
1 cup fresh dill
1 Knorr chicken broth cube 6 whole cloves
One 3–4 lb. chicken, cut in half 3 leeks (white part only) 7 shallots, left whole but peeled 1 tablespoon salt
½ teaspoon ground black pepper Sprigs of dill, for garnish
Add the onion, garlic, celery, carrots, green pepper, parsnip, tomato, parsley, dill, chicken broth cube, and cloves to a soup pot filled with 2½ quarts cold water. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer over low heat for ½ hour. Add the chicken, and salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer on top of the stove for ½ hour. Add the leeks and shallots, bring to a boil, cover, and simmer for 1 hour. Taste for salt and pepper. When the soup is cool, remove the chicken, discard the skin and bones. Replace the chicken slices into the soup. Degrease the soup. (I chill the soup in the refrigerator to be able to skim all fat from the broth.) Reheat, garnish with dill, and serve with warm French or Italian bread. Serves 4 as an entrée.
ALICE’S APPLE CAKE
Ingredients
2 cups all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon ground allspice 2 teaspoons finely ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon finely ground nutmeg ½ teaspoon ground cloves 1 cup light brown sugar, packed 1 cup granulated white sugar 3 large whole eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 2 sticks (16 ounces) unsalted butter, softened 4 Granny Smith or Golden Delicious apples, peeled, cored, and coarsely chopped 3 tablespoons Calvados (optional) 1 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped ¾ cup raisins
2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
Butter a bundt or angel food cake pan well and dust with flour, making certain that the bottom and sides of the pan are covered to prevent sticking. Discard the excess flour.
Sift together the flour, baking powder and soda, allspice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. Add the brown and granulated white sugars to the mixture. Add the eggs, vanilla, and softened butter. Beat with electric beaters for about 4 minutes or until the batter is very smooth.
Peel and coarsely chop the apples and chop the nuts. Add the optional Calvados to the chopped apples and stir well several times. Discard any liquid that accumulates in the bottom of the bowl. Add the apples, nuts, and raisins to the cake mixture. Pour into the baking pan and place in the center of the preheated oven. Bake for 1 hour. When the cake is done, it will shrink from the sides of the pan. Remove from the baking pan and place on a serving platter to cool. Before serving sift 1 or 2 tablespoons of confectioners’ sugar on the top.
EIGHT
Music Was Our Food
On Alice’s third day in Theresienstadt, she was told to play a recital the following week. “But I need to practice,” she responded.
“Can you imagine,” Alice says today, “they said I would be allowed to rehearse only one hour each day before I went to my assigned work?” Alice’s first job was
in the laundry. Eventually she was ordered to split mica chips for war production—hard and dangerous work for a pianist’s hands.
The next morning Alice found the room where she had been assigned the 9:00–10:00 A.M. practice slot. With no time to waste she began to practice her Chopin études, only to find that the pedal did not work and several keys stuck repeatedly. Refusing to be defeated, she quickly adapted to the piano’s limitations and began to play with abandon, losing herself in the music. “At least I was making music and that always made me happy,” she says when she considers the circumstances. Practicing with her eyes closed, she was so engrossed in the melody of the étude in A-flat Major that she did not hear the door open or footsteps crossing the floor. When Alice paused for a moment, a familiar voice said, “Very impressive, Alice, and on that broken-down old piano.” It was Hans Krása, a handsome, bon vivant composer whom Alice had known in Prague. In the months since they had last met, he had become older and thinner. “I’m so glad you are still here. Are you all right?” Alice was unable to hide her tears. Everywhere, every day, since she had arrived in Theresienstadt, she had been searching for her mother, asking everyone if they had seen her, even though Alice knew the awful truth. Krása had known her mother and recognized Alice as a major pianist. Though he had no answers for her, Krása responded with Czech humor. “Well, I must apologize that I cannot invite you to my castle. But may I listen to you practice?”
A Century of Wisdom: Lessons from the Life of Alice Herz-Sommer, the World's Oldest Living Holocaust Survivor Page 7