The Sound of Freedom

by Kathy Kacer

  in Palestine. I want to assure you that this delay does not affect the creation of the orchestra.

  It will simply have to wait a bit longer. I will keep you informed of the plans and let you

  know when another date has been chosen.

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  In the meantime, I wish you well and look

  forward to the day when I will greet you here

  in your new homeland.

  My very best wishes,

  Bronislaw Huberman

  “Does he say how long the delay is for?” Anna

  asked.

  Her father shook his head no.

  “But do you think he’s talking about days? Or

  weeks?” She didn’t even ask if he possibly could have meant months. Or could it be years?

  Again, Papa shook his head. “I read you every-

  thing, Annichka. That’s all the letter says.”

  “But—”

  “My darling, I have no more news for you. You

  know as much as I know.”

  Baba didn’t say a word. Her eyes moved to the pile

  of luggage that sat in the middle of the room, almost waiting in anticipation for them to pick the pieces

  up and walk out the door. But within a few days of

  receiving Mr. Huberman’s letter, the suitcases and

  boxes seemed to taunt them so much that finally

  Papa carried everything back into their respective

  bedrooms, where their clothes and belongings were

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  returned to cupboards and drawers. And once again,

  Anna had so many more questions swirling through

  her brain. When will we go? What will happen to us until then? Will we be safe?

  Papa had already resigned from his position at the

  academy. He had told everyone that he was leaving

  to take a position as a music teacher outside of the city, saying he wanted a simpler life. It was awkward to explain to the academy that the job in the country had fallen through. But luckily, Papa was able to convince the administrators to allow him to return

  to teach. At least that meant the family would have

  a small income to live on. There were no more stu-

  dents at home. No one was signing up for lessons at

  this time, and it made no sense for Papa to contact

  the ones he had already said good-bye to. Anna also

  returned to school. She didn’t say much, even to

  Stefan. There really was nothing to say. And Stefan, sensing her discomfort, asked nothing. All he said

  was, “I’m glad you’re still here. At least I’ve still got a friend in this class.” Anna appreciated Stefan as well.

  But every fiber in her body was screaming to leave

  Krakow behind.

  At home, the lightness seemed to have gone

  out of the family once more. They awoke in silence,

  went about their day, ate in silence, and then went to

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  bed. Some evenings, they listened to the radio, but

  not to the newsreels. That was too depressing. And

  every time Adolf Hitler’s voice filled the living room, Baba would bury her face in her apron and say, “Turn it off. I can’t bear to hear him!” Papa would quickly change the station to a recording of classical music.

  That soothed everyone’s frazzled nerves.

  z

  The winter weather had finally left the city. When

  Anna walked to and from school, she could see the

  young children who had thrown off their coats to

  greet the warm sunshine that smiled down on the

  cobblestone streets of Krakow. The trams had their

  windows open, followed by horse-drawn carriages

  and mothers pushing baby prams. Shopkeepers

  brought their wares outside and placed them on

  wooden stalls, where everyone could stop and check

  them out. The streets smelled of smoked fish and

  sweet roasted peppers and rich, creamy cheeses. The

  citizens of Krakow emerged from hibernation and

  the city was alive and bustling.

  At home, small buds had begun to appear on the

  flowers in the pots that Baba kept under the window-

  sills. Baba spoke to them every morning. “Good mor-

  ning, beautiful tulip,” she cooed. “It’s so lovely to see

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  you after this long, cold winter. Yes, my fine-looking daisy. You must try to grow big and strong.” And the plants responded, pushing out of the dirt, higher and higher, as if they had heard Baba’s voice encouraging them.

  The sense of life and joy in the city was interrupted periodically by groups of soldiers who patrolled up

  and down the streets, marching with military preci-

  sion. Anna hadn’t seen the older boys from her school lately, but she sensed that they lurked somewhere,

  ready to pop out at any moment. She had taken to

  slowing down and peering around every curve and

  every building on the street, just in case danger was lurking around the corner. In fact, to Anna, the

  streets of Krakow felt more dangerous than ever. She felt that she was waiting for the next attack to happen, knowing it was a matter of when and not if. So she avoided going out except to school and to accompany

  Baba on her shopping excursions to the market.

  Anna had received one letter from Renata in the

  months since her departure. It was long and newsy,

  and in it, Renata described her life in Copenhagen,

  the city in Denmark where they were living. Her

  family had found a small apartment and she was in

  a new school and impressing everyone with her math

  skills, which didn’t surprise Anna in the least. She

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  said that the people of Denmark and even the police

  were kind and friendly. And she ended the letter with these words:

  I’m making some new friends, but no one as important as you. The framed poppy is on my wall and I look at it every day, hoping you are safe. We’ll always be a team!

  Anna had sobbed on her bed the day the letter

  arrived. As happy as she was for Renata, this was a

  stark reminder that her own family seemed no closer

  to leaving. She wondered if she was the only one in

  the entire city of Krakow who felt so miserable. She grew quiet, stopped talking most of the time. She had stopped asking Papa when they were going to leave. It only made him frustrated. He would rub his eyes with one hand while the other drummed furiously on the

  table. Anna knew he had no answer for her. And then

  Baba would start hovering over both of them and

  muttering under her breath, “Perhaps if you hadn’t

  waited for the third travel document. You could have been gone by now.” That always brought an emotional

  response from Papa. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he would

  choke. “We go as a family or not at all.”

  The only thing that brought Anna any peace was

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  when she practiced her clarinet. There was joy in the musical notes and in the melodies that filled their

  home. Even Papa seemed to relax when she played

  for him.

  “That’s beautiful, Annichka,” he said one day as

  she finished playing a difficult passage. He wiped at his eyes and smiled at her. “You are becoming a real musician.”

  Anna sighed. It was high praise coming from her

  father. And she believed it was true. She no longer

&n
bsp; sounded like Anna the crow or one of the other barn-

  yard animals. She sounded like the wind brushing

  against the treetops and the moon shining in the sky.

  But only she knew that the tune she was playing was

  also filled with notes that sung out a plea into the world. “When are we leaving?” her clarinet begged.

  “When will we feel safe?”

  There didn’t appear to be an answer.

  Chapter

  19

  “Papa, Baba, it’s here!”

  It was August 1936, four months after the date

  they had been scheduled to leave. Anna had gone out

  to the mailbox as she did every morning, although

  lately, it had been with a kind of half-hearted, luke-warm enthusiasm. She would open the box, expecting

  nothing, and then, having that expectation fulfilled, she would close it up and go inside.

  This morning had been no different. Baba had

  asked her to help with some baking and Anna was

  looking forward to shaping some yeasty dough into

  donuts, frying the shapes in deep oil, and then

  sprinkling them with icing sugar. The goal was to

  eat them when they were still warm. That’s when the

  pastry would almost dissolve in her mouth.

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  She’d opened the box and was just about to close it

  up again when she saw the thin blue envelope shoved

  into the back. The handwriting on it was instantly

  recognizable. She grabbed the enve lope, forgetting to shut the box, and ran back inside calling out for her father and grandmother.

  Papa came running.

  “It’s his writing, isn’t it?” Anna said, breathless.

  Papa grabbed the envelope, looked up, and nodded.

  “What are you waiting for?” Anna cried again as

  her father appeared to hesitate. And then she, too,

  stopped. This was the fourth time a letter had come

  from Mr. Huberman. Would this one be the lucky

  one? Or would there be more delays, more excuses,

  and more bad news?

  Baba appeared from the kitchen. Her hands were

  covered in bits of sticky dough that she hadn’t even bothered to wipe off. “Open it, my son,” Baba said,

  holding her hands in the air like a surgeon about to operate on a patient. “Tell us what Mr. Huberman

  has written.”

  Papa looked one more time at his daughter and

  then at Baba, and finally, he tore open the envelope and extracted the letter. He read aloud without even looking ahead to see what was written. They would

  discover the news all together.

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  K A T H Y K A C E R

  Dear Mr. Hirsch,

  I am certain that you have been waiting for

  news of your departure with some anxiety.

  I must tell you that it has not been easy here.

  The British government has continued to place

  obstacle after obstacle in the way of Jews who

  are trying to enter Palestine. But even the

  head of our Jewish Agency, David Ben-Gurion,

  has been reluctant to support my musicians,

  wanting instead to save the precious permits

  for farmers who could come here to develop

  the land. There have been times when I

  thought my lovely orchestra was at risk of

  collapsing even before it had been formed.

  Papa paused and took a handkerchief from his

  pocket to wipe the perspiration from his brow. Anna

  was practically jumping out of her skin. Papa finally replaced the hanky, readjusted his glasses, and

  continued reading.

  I can now finally tell you that the approvals

  have been granted from all those in authority.

  Enclosed you will find your permanent new

  travel certificates. Please make your travel

  plans as quickly as possible, and I look forward

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  to the first rehearsal of the orchestra in the

  coming months.

  With sincere good wishes,

  Bronislaw Huberman

  P.S. As previously agreed, you will find three

  permits enclosed.

  With that, Papa reached into the envelope and

  pulled out the three travel documents, holding them

  high above his head as if they were trophies. Anna

  grabbed the letter from Papa’s hand to read it once

  more. By the time she finished reading, Baba was

  dancing around the living room, bits of dough and

  flour flying off her fingers. Papa grabbed his clarinet and accompanied her in a little jig. In between dancing, Baba kept spitting onto her fingers—“Puh, puh, puh”—just in case there were any evil spirits still

  lurking about. But this time, Anna wasn’t worried.

  She giggled at the ridiculous sight and then laughed out loud, throwing her head back and roaring with

  a force that came from deep within her. She couldn’t remember when she had last laughed like that. It was as if all the uncertainty of the past few months had been bottled up inside of her, ready to burst out in

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  this moment of celebration. There would be no more

  delays. They were finally going to leave.

  The suitcases appeared once more on the living

  room floor, bulging with the things they would be

  taking with them to their new home. Anna added

  her pressed flower collection along with her precious clarinet to the pile, reminding Papa once more to put it in a safe place. And a couple of days later, Papa returned home with the tickets for their journey, paid for with the last of their savings. “And worth every penny,” he exclaimed.

  z

  The day before their departure, Papa and Anna went

  to the Jewish cemetery to say their final good-byes

  to her mother. They passed through the big metal

  gate with the prominent Star of David on it at the

  entrance. Inside, they made their way through a

  winding path until they reached the spot where

  Anna’s mother was buried.

  Anna never minded coming here. It was peaceful.

  The sun played hide and seek in the branches of the

  huge pine trees that towered above the graves. Birds perched on the branches of the trees and chirped a

  soft melody to greet them. Anna gazed at the simple

  headstone on her mother’s grave. It read

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  Here lies Miryem Frankel Hirsch

  Loving wife and mother

  Rest in peace

  Several small stones had already been placed on

  top of Mama’s headstone. Baba had been there earlier in the week, and some of the pebbles were still there from the last time Anna and her father had visited.

  The stones were a symbol that the memory of her

  mother’s life would last forever, just like the stones themselves.

  Anna and her father stood in a moment of silence.

  Then, her father spoke. “I know that there have been times in the last few months when I haven’t been

  honest with you, or listened to you when you needed

  me to.”

  Anna stood absolutely still. Her father rarely

  spoke so personally, or so openly.

  “I felt completely lost after your mother died,”

  he continued. “But I think I’m beginning to find my

  way back.”

  “Papa, you don’t have to say this,” Anna began,

>   but her father stopped her.

  “Yes, Annichka, I think I do,” he said. “And I vow

  to you that I will try to listen more closely to what you say, and be there for you when you need me.”

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  Anna’s heart swelled. “Do you think Mama knows

  we’re going away?” she asked after another moment

  had passed.

  Papa smiled. “Of course. And she will be with us on

  this journey. You believe that, don’t you, Annichka?”

  Anna nodded. “Do you think we’ll ever come

  back?”

  Papa paused. “That I cannot say.”

  Anna nodded again. “Shall I find another stone

  for Mama’s grave?”

  “Yes,” replied Papa. “And find one for me to put

  on her headstone as well.”

  Anna walked around and found two small stones,

  which she and her father placed on top of the head-

  stone. Once again, they stood in silence. And then,

  just before leaving, Anna reached into her pocket and extracted the dried red poppy that was part of her

  pressed flower collection. She had given one of these to Renata, but she knew she had to leave this one

  behind. Its place was here, watching over her mother.

  She placed the flower on her mother’s headstone and

  then turned to leave.

  “Good-bye, Mama,” Anna whispered over her

  shoulder.

  Chapter

  20

  The sky was dark, and rain fell in fat puddles around their feet on the September day they left their home in Krakow. It was as if the city were weeping over

  their departure and begging them to stay. Anna knew

  that she would miss her friends, miss her house where Papa had taught clarinet lessons, miss her mother’s

  grave. But beyond that, she was not sad to say good-

  bye to Krakow.

  From Krakow they would travel by train to Genoa

  in Italy, before boarding the ship that would sail them to the port city of Haifa in Palestine. The train ride would take more than a day, and it was that first part of the journey that Anna and her family were dread-ing—a long and difficult route that would take them

  west through Germany before heading south to Italy.

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  Germany was the center of the storm, where Adolf

  Hitler was promoting his hateful ideas, so many

  of them directed toward Jewish people. Yes, they

  had their precious travel documents with them. But