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LESS THAN A WEEK LATER, whatever hope Arnold and Vera’s positive attitude may have inspired is dealt a blow. In a letter ostensibly written for my father’s birthday, and belatedly for mine, Martha is strangely distant.
On September 15, your birthday, dear Edi, we will be intensely thinking of you, pleading that the dear Lord keep you in very, very good health. May you be allowed to dwell with your loved ones in peace and freedom!
My dear husband often says that our Dorly reminds him so much of Helly’s chatter. She will surely be a charming young girl already. These would be nice playmates now under the supervision of my big daughter.
You are heartily embraced and kissed by your Martha and family.
Else’s penmanship follows closely upon Martha’s handwritten words. Else’s letter is even more remote.
To our dear brother Edi on his birthday we wish every imaginable good thing and love. May he stay in good health and spend the day happily in the circle of his family. His girl must be quite big now and must be bringing lots of life and joy into the house.
At the bottom is a single, rather formal, line in Fanny’s handwriting.
I too can send my sincerest regards to congratulate Edi, and Helynka too.
Strangely, it is the only time she signs not as “Fanny,” but as “Your Mama.” Only the date of the letter provides a clue to its detachment. August 31,1939. The next day, Germany will invade Poland and trigger the war.
War Breaks Out
STRANGELY, I HAD NEVER GIVEN thought to the small, inevitable consequences of war. How, for example, did letters continue to arrive from Europe? Now I threw myself into the task of understanding what happened next.
From the notes she scribbled in the margins, I discovered that Cousin Hertha Bloch in New York had agreed to be the go-between for the continuing exchange of family letters. Because the United States did not enter the war until after Pearl Harbour on December 6,1941, there was a window of time when letters could be forwarded via the U.S. Letters written to my father’s brother Otto in Paris were also forwarded by Hertha and made their way into my father’s box.
None of the letters directly mentions the war, although Martha does refer to “this illness that is supposed to last a long time.” Censorship must have begun almost immediately. It lingers like a bad smell in the form of pencil markings and mysterious numbers in strange handwriting superimposed upon the thin sheets of airmail paper. Each letter has two sets of four digit numbers boldly written across the top, reminders that censorship was real, and much more than the stuff of spy novels.
Nevertheless, each family member continued to write. Arnold is the first to send his reassurances that all is well. Despite having written twice in the previous week, on September 3,1939, two days after Britain and France declare war on Germany, Arnold sends a letter to his brother Otto.
Arnold seems to accept that there is little point in worrying about things one cannot change. With the outbreak of war, his role shifts to reassuring everyone that there is no immediate cause for alarm. On September 3, he writes to Otto saying, “With us, mercifully, nothing has changed.” Still, there are numerous indicators that change is very much in the air. Arnold reveals that Vera’s medical practice has virtually come to a halt, an oblique reference to the Nazi boycott of Jewish professionals. He also admits that my grandmother Fanny has come to Prague specifically to look for accommodations. While Arnold is looking forward to having his parents nearby, he acknowledges that it is not a matter of choice.
Dear Otto,
Mama surprised us with a visit whose purpose was to look for an apartment, since they have to leave the one in Budweis. Once again our family is almost complete and re-united.
I need not stress that we think of you especially often; indeed, you are now my greatest concern. We are already awaiting your next letter with impatience, even though we recently received your letters of August 23 and 26. I wrote to you at the old address on August 23 and 30.
With us, mercifully nothing has changed, and we are all in good health. Little Dorly is making special progress. She is already taking a few steps, she can stand up alone by leaning on a heavy object, and she is uncommonly cute.
Vera of course has almost nothing to do in her praxis during these times, but I certainly have plenty of work and we are just in the process of enlarging the factory.
We are calmly braced for the future, but of course we can have no clear picture of what it may bring. It goes without saying that we must be prepared to face all kinds of sacrifices and deprivations, but God will surely continue to help.
Do write diligently, dear Otto, whenever you have a chance, even if it is only a few lines. You will also have to write more often to Edi so that he will not so deeply miss hearing from us. Our good wishes and our prayers accompany you along your paths. Best regards and kisses from your Arnold.
It is a tribute to my grandmother Fanny that in such uncertain times, the few lines that she adds to Arnold’s letter indicate that she is more concerned with the welfare of her children than with her own fate.
Your words are like a ray of sunshine in a gloomy hut. With your last letter, you have calmed our heart. May the dear Lord just keep you in good health and may our present anxieties be unfounded. The times give us pause and much food for thought.
I would like to count on another letter soon, but there is some question about how the mail is going to function now. Don’t you have some foreign stamps? In the event that it will not be possible for us to write to Edi in Canada, I ask that you do so more often and then report to us.
Puzzled by Fanny’s reference to “foreign stamps” and the need to use both Otto and Hertha as direct recipients of mail, I did more research on wartime conditions in Prague. I learned that even writing to the United States was not a simple matter. Eventually, except for two hours in the afternoon at a single location, all post offices in Prague were declared off limits to Jews.
On that same Sunday that he wrote to Otto, Arnold tested the mail and wrote the first wartime letter to my parents. It is largely a repeat of his letter to Otto, but with an even stronger assurance that there is no cause for anxiety.
September 3, 1939
My Dear Ones,
We hope that you have received our last detailed letter of August 24 that included my professional credentials, and the birthday letter of August 31. We have been without news from you for quite a while. The last letter was July 27, but we did meanwhile read your letter to Gretl’s parents. We constantly admire how quickly and how well you have adapted to your new situation and to all the hard work.
Mama is here in search of an apartment because they have to leave Budweis. In the meantime, things are going very well for us. Don’t worry, everything will happen the way it will happen. Worrying doesn’t help, and one must accept one’s fate. All that you can do is bring us joy through your letters.
Be well and be hugged and kissed by your Arnold.
A month later, Arnold writes another letter that is reassuring in the extreme. He and Vera hear regularly from Cousin Hertha in New York and from Hertha’s sister Emmy and her mother Jetty (Fanny’s sister), both of whom are still in Prague. Arnold and Vera are now trying to gain entry to the United States.
I sincerely thank you, dear Hertha for your efforts to persuade Bella to send us an affidavit. I beg you to continue these efforts since our hope for the future rests upon getting a visa.
The name “Bella” remains a name totally unknown to me. I checked the Waldstein family tree but Bella does not appear on it. I acquired a Bloch-Vogel family tree, thinking she may be related on Fanny’s side. No luck. I remain puzzled about the identity of this woman who promised Arnold and Vera an affidavit to the United States.
I am puzzled also that Arnold wrote that there were no major changes and absolutely no food shortages. Other sources indicate that so much was sucked into the Nazi machine that, almost immediately after the outbreak of war, food was in shor
t supply. In the end, I conclude that not only did Arnold and Vera want to minimize my parents’ anxiety, they also wanted to avoid writing anything that the censor might hold against them when the promised affidavit to the U.S. arrived.
I can report to you that we are all well, that the whole large family is healthy and that life continues in its old accustomed tracks. The Fränkels and the Urbachs have set up housekeeping together and they live on their savings. Vera and I have our professions. We have enough to eat and there is absolutely no shortage of food here. For now, we even have our croissants for breakfast.
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ATTACHED TO ARNOLD’S September missive is a lengthy letter from my grandmother Fanny. Like Arnold, she is reassuring, and her words must have greatly comforted my parents.
I am also astounded by her informed comments on farming life. She seems to know so much that my parents were only gradually learning. That cream must be just at the right temperature to be successfully churned into butter. That hay is grown and mown for feed, but that straw (to provide clean bedding for animals) is part of a longer, two-step process and is actually a by-product of the harvesting of wheat.
My Dear Children,
I happen to be in Prague for a few days and yesterday, I went to visit your dear parents Max and Resl. I found them both well, thank goodness. I must say that Papa has made a great recovery, and he seems well rested. Dear Mama is also doing quite well. Uncle Ignatz Grünhut was just there too.
Don’t worry, children, Max and Resl are not lacking anything. They have some store of food supplies and they have taken my advice and bought extra in case there should come a time of shortage. I also offered them anything of ours that they might need, but thank goodness, they still have all they need or have requested. We won’t let them do without, you can be quite sure of that. Besides, dear Emil visits them daily. He tries so hard and I really admire him. All else we must leave to God. Who knows what still lies ahead? May we all stay in good health!
And now, to the point. I read your last letter, dear Gretl and Anny, and I am reassured to learn that you have completed the biggest task of all—the harvest. That is the real proof of a capable farmer, to even guess the weather, so that everything reaches the barn in a dry state. How much oats did you plant? Do both of the men now have to repay the neighbours in kind for their help?
I’m not very pleased with you for acquiring a bull. Why on earth are you doing that? It’s a very dangerous experiment, and you could have acquired two cows for the price. I’d be very happy if the wild animal were off the premises again. You’d better look after your precious health! I beg you! Listen to me!
I hope that the work ahead won’t cost you so much sweat, especially now that the summer heat is over. Are you already planting fall wheat? And how are the vegetables doing? Did you plant turnips? They are nourishing both for cattle and pigs. How is the milk separator working out? I suppose one of the men will have to churn the cream. It’s very hard work and has to be done just so, as is the case with the temperature of the milk.
Splurge on a bit of cream for your elevenses, dear Anny and Gretl. I am sorry to read that you haven’t gained any weight. You must do so by consuming good cream and butter. Helenchen will probably also enjoy some bread and butter. Gretl, try to put up some cottage cheese. It makes a nice change.
I forgot to send you congratulations on Helynka’s birthday. May you all experience great joy from her. Now I close with the sincerest of greetings to you all. Stay well and be heartily hugged and kissed by your faithful Mother Fanny
Give lots of good kisses to Helynka from me.
No one has ever called me Helynka, and I seize the Czech diminutive as symbolic of my grandmother’s love. In an orgy of self-centredness, my eyes scan the remaining letters from my grandmother in the fall of 1939, searching for my name.
My dear children,
How overjoyed we were to receive your photos! Please accept my sincerest thanks. I take them out several times a day to look at them. Really, I just can’t get enough of looking at them. The pictures of each one of you are good, but I must confess that when I first saw you, I cried a lot. I thank the dear Lord to see you standing in front of your own home with a roof over your head, even if there is a long hard road ahead of you. And dear sweet Helynka, I like her in every way. I always give her photo lots of kisses.
In another letter, she calls me Helimäderl and says that I am cute enough to kiss. However, neither references to my cuteness nor distracting comments on farm life can hide the fact that things are no longer the same. My grandmother’s birthday wishes for my father are a tacit acknowledgement of the momentous changes that have taken place.
Now I come to you, dear Edmund, in order to offer you my most heartfelt good wishes on the occasion of your birthday on September 15. May you always be healthy and strong.
May you meet your own expectations as a farmer and in an honest fashion so that we parents can take pride in you.
On September 15,1938, my father would have celebrated his birthday in the family home surrounded by his parents, his siblings and in-laws, his nieces and nephews, and many friends with whom he had grown up in Strobnitz. Less than two weeks later, the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain would fly to Munich and give Hitler the Sudetenland in return for “peace in our time.” Leaving everything behind, my parents would flee to Prague, and less than six months later, when all of Czechoslovakia had become Nazi territory, my parents and I would flee again, this time across the sea to Canada.
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.
Letters From the Lost Page 13