The Four Questions / My Life Story

Description:	Autobiography of Ruth Tulchinsky. Ms. Tulchinsky recounts her life in Germany and immigration to the United States before World War II, her life and career in South Bend, and marriage to Maurice Tulchinsky. With commentary on Jewish life, thought, and genealogy, and the impact of the Holocaust on her family. Includes an account of her husbands work as lawyer for the NAACP, and their friendship with South Bend civil rights leader J. Chester Allen. Illustrated with photographs, letters, and notes. Includes letters of recognition from the Michiana Area Community Prayer Breakfast and the Mental Health Association of St. Joseph County, Indiana. - . - •THE FOUR QUESTIONSThe Four QuestionsThe previous page shows a family Seder at a Passover festival in which themother is hiding the afikoman [see Glossary in the Guide] while the children arewatching closely. The scene is taken from a Barcelona Haggada, mid-to-late 14thcentury.The Jewish Passover, celebrated for eight days (seven in Israel) is known by anumber of names. Festival of Freedom is at the very root of Passover. Not only does itcommemorate the Exodus from Egypt and the redemption of the children oflsrael frombondage, but it also marks the beginning of Jewish nationhood.Secondly, it is known as the Festival of Unleavened Bread (Hag Hamatzot).The Matzo is the bread of affliction and refers to the haste with which the Israelites weredriven out of Egypt, not allowing sufficient time for the dough to rise ( an indispensableelement in the baking of bread).Festival of Spring (Hag Ha-Aviv) is another name given to Passover becausethe month ofNisan [see listing of months in the Guide] is described in the Bible as themonth in which fresh ears of barley began to ripen. Thus, it is also an agriculturalfestival.The Passover holiday is also associated with the paschal lamb which in Egypt wasslaughtered on the fourteenth day ofNisan. The doorposts of all Israelite homes weresprinkled with the blood of the lamb and the Angel of Death was therefore able to passover these homes as he smote the first-born of the Egyptians.Ten plagues are described in Exodus (7:14-12:30) of which the first nine consist ofthree series of each:1. blood, frog, lice2. fleas, murrain, boils3. hail, locusts, darknessIn each series, the first plague is announced to Pharaoh on the brink of the Nile, thesecond by Moses at the palace, and the third is without warning. (As each plague ismentioned, a drop of wine is poured out in memory of the Egyptians who died; althoughenemies oflsrael, they too were Gods creatures.) Whenever a plague was removed,Pharaoh refused to release the Israelites. With the tenth however, he ordered them toleave immediately.Scholars have pointed out that the phenomena might have been intensified forms ofdiseases and other natural events liable to occur in Egypt at different times of the year.Whether the emphasis is placed on the natural or supernatural interpretation, the messageis mainly a moral one: i.e. that tyranny and oppression cannot forever flaunt the laws ofjustice and morality, but that freedom will ultimately triumph.iiConnectionsSo, what is the connection between my families life stories and the title of theproject with the Seder night scene on that title page?Actually, there are a number of connecting links. The first is a seasonal one.Four days from today starts Passover , since the first Seder falls on Saturday night in theyear 2001. Secondly, the Seder text - the Hagadah- means narration or telling andtells the story of the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt, from slavery to freedom.Storytelling thus has a long history in Jewish tradition from biblical times to the present.On a personal level, I relate the importance of storytelling in our family traditionas well, from my fathers retelling of Homeric tales, to my bedtime readings of CeresPersephoneto Judith, a tale that explains the change of seasons in early writings. Mybrother also continued the storytelling tradition with children and grandchildren.The four interrogatives of the Four Questions, asked by the youngest child on theSeder night, begin with: WHO? WHAT? HOW? and WHY? They are the same ones Iraise throughout my life story.,, Nevearg aindidt herea riseinI sraeal prophetlikeM oses-whomtheL orsdi ngleodu t,faceto f ace,,.DEUTERONOMY 34:10111Table of ContentsThe Four Questions iiAcknowledgments viPreface viiIntroduction xiThe First AgePart I - Childhood and Early TeensStarting at the Beginning 1Why Now? Why Not? 1Storytelling 2Papas War Stories 3The Bottom Dropped Out 5Listen and Learn 6The Tumultuous 30s 8The Shadow of Hitler 9Changing Schools 9The Eschwege Reunion 1989 11A Difficult Year 12The Nuremberg Laws 15Summerof1936 25Going Away to School 27Interlaken, Switzerland 29The Salt Mine in Hallein 30Scary Moment at the Passport Office in Stuttgart 31The Four Questions 32The Hes Family 34They Fought Back 39The Holocaust Museum 40A Stay-at-Home? 43Family Contributions to Life Stories 44The Ifs of Life 65Departure from Germany 71To Alice - Memories Interrupted 72Part II - Education and Professional PreparationNew York 74Dreaming in English 77South Bend, Indiana 80All about Legacy: KEEPING SCHABBOS 81Mt. Sinai Hospital School of Nursing 83Another Dream 85IVThe Second AgePart I - The FamilyA How DialogueBlind Date8788The Tulchinsky Family - Old and New 89Standing on Principles 90Explanatory Notes on the Term CRYSTAL NIGHT 93Part II - Professional and Personal Lives InteractPolitical Awareness and InvolvementMcCarthyismThe Effects of the Cold WarThe Rosenberg CasePart III - My Professional LifeNorthern Indiana Childrens HospitalMystery IllnessesAnother TulchinskyTeachingMemoirs Interrupted - AgainThe Third AgePart I - The FamilyA Balancing ActA Look BackTrouble at HomePart II - Active RetirementDoing Something ElsePerspectiveWhy Is Early Retirement Desirable?Part III - Non-active RetirementA Third Interrupt - September 2001Finding ComfortWhat Goes Around Comes AroundFrom the Real World to Fantasylandand Back to RealityAddendumKarl Goldsmith MemoirsKarl Goldsmith ObituaryAdditional Quotes from MemoirsPost Script by Ruth TulchinskyConclusionv9393949599101102102103105106107107108110114114116118119126127127131AcknowledgmentsIn memory of the two men who contributed so much to my life and to these Life Stories:my father, Moritz Bachrach, and my brother, Joseph Bachrach. Our father researched data of theBachrach- Hes genealogy and started the Family Tree, which my brother developed further.Special thanks to my nephew, Steven Bachrach, and my niece, Liza Bachrach Marshall,son and daughter of Joseph and Ruth Starer Bachrach, for updating and expanding the FamilyTree and giving it its present form.Pam Stone Fogle, daughter of my late cousin Renate Hes Stone and Norman Stone,merits special mention for enlarging the Hes Family Tree and updating it.I owe special tribute to Tamea and Stephen Rector who supplied the first injection ofencouragement and who advised and guided me in organizing, critiquing and editing mymaterial. Nobody but Tamea would have been willing to risk accepting a project as undefined asthis was at the outset. Both of them have my deep respect and affection for nurturing thesememoirs to completion. It would not have been accomplished without them, particularly withoutTamea.My deepest gratitude goes to my family who made these Life Stories possible and whogave meaning to my life: To my dear late husband, Maurice Tulchinsky, for reasons that arebeyond listing; to our children and spouses: Mark and Nan, to Terry and Jill, to Jeff, to Judithand Greg; and to our grandchildren: Peter, Sarah and John, and Daniel, to Michael and Melissa.All of them helped to give a portrait of our familys life and reflect the mood of a time and aplace gone forever.viPrefaceOn the purpose of storytelling:Erasmus recognized the/act of history, and to him the revival of/earningmeant not only a resurrection of the past but a blend of past and present.---- from The Adages of Erasmus by Margaret Mann PhillipsMy Life Story is the result of deep personal reflection on persons, places and events,which I witnessed, participated in or felt. It therefore has a deliberately subjective mood and isnot an autobiography, but rather evolved from a desire to transmit emotions, calculations andobservations of my forebears and present and future families.Roger Rosenblatt, in his essay I Am Writing Blindly 1 provides a partial answer to thefirst question I raise: WHY write a life story at all, but particularly as a 78-79-year-old? Hereferred to the note a doomed submariner wrote to his wife during the last moments of his life.Rosenblatt says, That is what we people do -write messages to one another. We are a narrativespecies. We exist by story-telling - by relating our situations - and the test of our evolution maybe in getting the story right.Aside from personal requests by husband and children, and Roger Rosenblatts reason forleaving notes and messages, writing down memoirs, I also believe that all are efforts tocommunicate, connect, and form stronger bonds.My immediate reaction to the question, Why write a life story? was based on somemusings and generalizations, such as:All ofus are seekers. The search goes on. We search for roots. We reach for guideposts.We delve into the past and present and speculate about the future. WHO were the people whoinfluenced us or made the difference in our lives? WHAT shaped us-not just biologically orgenetically - but what ideas, ideals, values and beliefs were implanted in us? HOW did I carrythem on or fail to pass them on to our children, grandchildren and to others? WHY do these andother questions still challenge me enough to undertake this journey into my past and recordmemories from early childhood to the present?In part, it may be what Johann Wolfgang von Goethe called das Ewig Strebende (theeternally striving force within us) - to grow and become a better person.Other more personal reasons will emerge in the course of my story as I begin it obviouslynot just in the middle of my life, as Dantes Paradise Lost does, but much later in life.I Roger Rosenblatt, I Am Writing Blindly, Time, November 6, 2000.viiI cite Roger Rosenblatt because he sums up a human need to communicate with oneanother because we are a narrative species . Something impels us to relate our situations .That is what my Life Story attempts to do - relate my situation at different times, under varyingcircumstances.Once I started writing my life story, it became less and less important who would read it.I kept writing because I had to. The impulse was within me, like a biological fact. Writing is away of breaking the silence. It is a way of reaching out to one another. Like Kolesnikov, whowas still writing when the sinking submarine Kursk2 had no lights anymore, wrote I am writingblindly, I say, And so am I. Hopefully, I will get my story right.A PRIVATE OURNESomep eople live in thepast, and other peoplelive in the present andallow the past to live inthem. Im part of thesecond group.j Jerry .Hurtubise, AuthorOur Values Are Passed From Generation To Generation.2South Bend Tribune Articles (see next page) .VlllIntroductionFollowing Jewish tradition, on the SEDER night of the Passover holiday, the youngestfamily member asks THE FOUR QUESTIONS:WHY DO WE EAT MATZAH?When our ancestors were told by Pharoah that they could leave Egypt, they had no timeto bake bread with leaven and therefore baked it without leaven.WHAT IS THE MEANING OF EATING BITTER HERBS?To remind us of the bitterness of slavery when our ancestors were oppressed by Egyptiantaskmasters.HOW DOES LEANING TO THE LEFT WHILE SITTING IN A RECLINEDPOSITION SYMBOLIZE THAT POSITION AS A SIGN OF FREEDOM?In antiquity, slaves ate hurriedly, standing or squatting on the ground, while royalty andthe wealthy dined leisurely on couches.WHO IS CONSTANTLY REMINDED OF THEIR LOWLY ORIGIN AT THE SEDER,IN DAILY PRAYERS AND IN THE TEN COMMANDEMENTS?Jews are, to make them aware that God works through history, to appreciate theimportance of freedom, and strive for the freedom of all peoples.The name of the Seder text, Hagadah, means telling and it tells the story of theIsraelites from Egyptian bondage. By telling the story of the Exodus of the Israelites fromEgypt, we are to reflect upon the ideal of freedom and the continuity of Jewish history.Thus, storytelling has an old historical Jewish tradition. These Life Stories show thatstorytelling has played an important role in our familys tradition as well.Stories, however, can be presented in different ways and do not necessarily rely onwords.· Pictures can tell their own stories, too. The pictures in AL I give their response to myfirst WHY? Question: WHY WRITE A LIFE STORY? One answer I heard was, Its a girliething - or a mother-daughter thing. See if some of these pictures give a different answer:Page 11Page 12Page 13Page 14Page 15Page 16Page 17Mothers and DaughtersMothers and SonsFathers and DaughtersFathers and SonsHusbands and WivesBrothers and SistersFriendsxiPicture of Papa- Dr. Moritz Bachrach to patients.In his contribution to Life Stories, Terry referred to him as larger than life.The First AgePart I - Childhood and Earlv TeensStarting at the BeginningSince biographies and life stories usually start at the beginning, my story will too, andwill address the question of WHO AM I?Why Now? - Why Not?Why would you WANT to go back to Germany? This was the instant response a friendgave me after I had informed my book club members that I was going back to Eschwege, myhome town. Why would you NOT WANT to go to Eschwege and participate in the fifty-yearcommemoration of the Crystal Night? This was the response my nephew, Steven Bachrach,gave his parents, Joseph and Ruth Starer Bachrach. Our children likewise encouraged theirfather and me to accept the invitation the town had extended to all of the Jewish survivors andspouses of the Holocaust. What had been planned as a fifty-year commemoration of the CrystalNight of 1938, materialized in 1989; and we accepted. The experience ofmy return to the townwhere I was born and lived for the first sixteen years of my life was memorable. Sharing thisexperience with my husband, Maurice Tulchinsky, my brother, Joseph Bachrach, and his wife,Ruth, made it unforgettable.WHY did that November 1989 meeting in Eschwege have such an impact on me?WHY? In part, I relived childhood experiences - good ones and bad - saw familiar places, metfriends and school mates after fifty years, and took part in discussions with German high schoolstudents. Furthermore, I confronted some of my inner unresolved conflicts and feelings, whichcaused me to take a fresh look at WHO I AM. You may ask, is that WHY I am starting thisbiography in 1998 when I was born in 1921? You might also ask why begin a biography at 78years of age?!Why indeed? Is it because Mauri has repeatedly asked me to write a book? Is itmerely for self-analysis or catharsis? Is it nostalgia?- certainly not for the good old days. Oris it just another frame which Judith gave me? Whatever the reasons, I want to share with you- our children and grandchildren, and possibly any future readers - some experiences, thoughtsand feelings I have had at different stages of my life; and some day, a few among you may wantto add your thoughts and experiences to the book Life Stories.So, WHO AMI?I, Ruth Friedel Bachrach Tulchinsky, was born August 30, 1921 in Eschwege, Germanyto Flora Hes Bachrach. My father, Dr. Moritz Bachrach, delivered me as he had delivered mybrother, Joseph Bachrach, three-and-a-half years earlier on February 9, 1918 in Papenburg,Germany. At that time our father had been on furlough from the front in WWI to welcome theirfirst child into the world. Papa to us, Dr. Moritz Bachrach to patients, comrades and civilianpopulation, he had been the only Jewish physician in his regiment, called Die Konigssoldaten1(the Royal Uhlans.) He always stressed that he had never carried a weapon, but that he hadtried to help all those who needed medical attention during and after the war. He took pride inthe two medals - the Iron Cross first and second class - which he had earned in recognition ofhis valor and bravery.Skipping over many years to the Crystal Night Reunion, my brother Joe (Americanizedversion) told German high school students that Papa had thrown those medals into the oceanbefore coming to the United States - a symbolic gesture of total severance from the NAZIGermany of 1937 and from any of his formerly patriotic ties to the past. Joes voice at thatmoment trembled with emotion. I knew why. Papa had taken out that velvet-lined box ever sooften to show us the medals as he retold some old war time story or related a new one. Lisa(Liza) Bachrach Marshall -Joe and Ruths daughter - wrote about the story-telling traditionthat she thought her father had started durin£ her and her brother Stevens growing-up years.In the plaque Lisa gave to her Dad on his 801 birthday [Copy of the plaque was read at JosephBachrachs funeral by Joseph Bachrachs two grandsons: Jake Marshall and Dustin Bachrach.Text can be found in the Guide, pages 33, 34.], the first answer to the question What is anOpa? states An Opa always has a story to tell . .. Thus Joe continued that tradition bytelling stories to his grandchildren, Jacob (Jake), Lucille (Lucy) and Isaac, to entertain them.StorytellingAs children, Joe and I had looked forward to Papas bedtime stories, some of which wereevents from his childhood, his student days,* war stories or some funny encounters; some wereexcerpts in Greek from Homers Odyssey, the Iliad or in Latin from Virgils Aeneid. Papa wouldgive a summary of the selection as he paced up and down in the bedroom at FriedrichWilhelmstrasse12 in Eschwege. Maybe some of these stories kindled my interest in mythologyand its heroes; and maybe my reading the story of Ceres - Mother Earth - and her beautifuldaughter - Persephone - was responsible for our daughter Judiths preference of that story, twogenerations after Joe and I had listened to Papas stories.Song of the Medical Students from Papas student days (in English and German):English-Yesterday, brothers, you may believe me,Yesterday, while drinking wineJust imagine my horrorWhen DEA TH appeared to me!Threateningly he swung his whip;Threateningly that scary skeleton spokeAway with you [be gone] you slave toBaccusAway, youve boozed enough!2Gestern, Bruder, Ihr kiinnt mirs glauben,Gestern bei dem Saft der Trauben,Stellt Euch mein Entsetzen filr (vor)Gestern kam der Tod zu mirDrohend schwang er seine Hippe,Drohend sprach das Furchtgerippe:fort von hier, Du Baccusknecht,fort, du hast genug gezecht!The enemy attack resulted in a direct hit - almost on the exact spot where Papa hadthrown himself down- except that it hit the left side of the trench instead. His friends time hadcome, not Papas then.The Bottom Dropped OutObviously Papa and Joe played a major role in my life, especially during my childhoodand early adolescence. Over the years, Judith, our youngest and fourth child, asked merepeatedly, Why is it that you remember so many things from your early childhood concerningother family members but you have only a few memories of your birth mother, whom we calledMutti? I could not give her a satisfactory answer then, but I think I understand myself betternow.Aside from Papa and Joe - both of whom I will have more to say about later - Papasfather, Herz Bachrach, Opa to us, and Papas sister, Lena, also played an important role duringthe first seven years of my life. Shortly after my sixth birthday, a very tragic, shocking andtraumatic event happened which overshadowed everything else. Mutti became terribly sick anddied three days later. Papa had driven her to Bremen - at least an eight hour drive at that time -because he thought she would receive better medical care in a big city hospital, especiallybecause Muttis brother, Dr. Paul Hes, also a physician, had professional contacts there.I did not realize for many years how deeply traumatized I was by Muttis death. As achild of strictly orthodox parents, young children did not attend funerals or burials. They wereconsidered too young to witness such a tragic event. Besides, girls were not permitted to recitethe Kaddish, the prayer of mourning.Consequently, I had stayed at home with our maid, Maria, and had watched Muttisfuneral procession from a window ledge as it moved slowly from Friedrich Wilhelmstrasse 12towards the post office. Maria asked me to move away from there, but I refused. I was so hurtand angry that Joe, holding Papas hand, could walk behind that big, black, cloth-covered box,drawn by four black horses, and I couldnt walk with them. During the following year I watchedfrom the balcony of our synagogue each time Joe stepped up to the front to recite the Kaddishbefore the congregation.More than fifty years later, all ofus who had returned to Eschwege in 1989 recited theKaddish at the cemetery together. As I joined in, I wept. Finally I could express my grief, andmy right to mourn my mothers death aloud was validated.Years later, during a family session, the facilitator suggested to me that I had never reallymourned Muttis death. I think that she was right. I also think that my attitude towards deathand dying was shaped by Muttis death and by my vivid memories of the day of the funeral.Before the procession, Papa had taken Joes and my hands and walked us to another room ... to see Mutti. When I started to ask, Where is Mutti? he put his index and middle fingersover his lips as he whispered, Jetzt sei ma! ganz ruhig und denk nur an die liebe, gute Mutti!5(Be very quiet now and only think of our dearly beloved Mutti.) - and we just stood in front ofthat big box. No explanations of what it meant-nothing.I did not understand until many weeks later, when Joe interrupted me after I had saidWhen Mutti comes home ... with Mutti will never come home; she is dead. I still did notknow what it meant to be dead, but I understood the first part of the statement - that she wouldnever come home.After that, I had a recurring nightmare: I was lying in my bed which stood on the balconyin the back of the apartment house at Friedrich-Wilhelmstrasse 12 [see photo in EschwegeReunion Album (hereafter referred to as ERA), p. 5] when, suddenly, the balcony floorcollapsed and I started falling - and falling - and falling - until I hit the ground and broke into athousand pieces. For me it was literally that the bottom had dropped out.As traumatic as the funeral itself was for me, the next months were not much better.Papa was devastated and became very withdrawn. Besides, there was a lot of tension in thehousehold.Opa and aunt Lena, Papas father and sister, had moved in, and that was when my role asmessenger and intermediary began. At six years of age that is not an enviable position to be in.Because Papa lacked confidence in Aunt Lenas competency in household management,some household items were locked up, and I was sent during office hours to knock on theconsultation room door and have Papa come out to unlock the provisions. I would stand outsidethat door, knock until a thunderous Draussen bleiben! (Stay out!) was the response - as ifanyone would have dared to open that door!On January 15, 1928 all that changed with the appearance of Fraulein Goldschmidt whowas to be our governess and housekeeper for 4Yz years. Miss G. was quiet, gentle, efficient, andshe brought order and peace into our household. Furthermore, she won me over almostimmediately.Listen and LearnHOW? - I had overheard a conversation she had with Papa (parents, teachers and otheradults would be amazed how much children overhear!) The topic was my need for a new coat. Ihad outgrown the one I was wearing and besides, she said, it did not keep me warm enough.Papa said, Why dont you take Ruth with you and buy a coat for her? Her reply was that wehad looked and I had seen one that was just what I wanted, but it was expensive. It had pocketswith zippers - a pretty innovative feature on childrens apparel - especially in Eschwege in thelate 1920s! I got the coat, which was the object ofmy girl friends admiration and envy, thanksto Miss Goldschmidt s urging.Having overheard that conversation between Papa and Miss Goldschmidt was - as I see itnow - a first eye opener for me. It gave me, at an early age, an inkling of the power of gentle6persuasion. The verbal exchanges between Papa and his sister at that time were neither gentlenor persuasive nor effective.A second eye opener, though of a very different nature, was another overheardconversation, also between Papa and Miss Goldschmidt that occurred approximately four yearslater.Apparently Miss Goldschmidt had started making up a list for invitations to be sent outfor Joes Bar Mitzvah that was to be held in February of 1931. In this conversation she askedPapa for the addresses of his two younger brothers, and Papa replied that his father and brotherJoseph had not spoken to one another for a number of years. By that time Miss Goldschmidt wasin a position of greater influence and openness with Papa. She therefore said that it was time tobring about a reconciliation and she asked Papa to be the mediator between Opa and his son,Joseph. I remember her saying that all members of the Bachrach-Hes families should be invitedto such a special occasion, and, hopefully, all would come. They did. I am certain that it took agood deal of urging, coaxing and persuading before invitations were actually sent out. So, whatwas the eye opener?I knew from my own experience of the months after Muttis death that there had beentensions between Opa and Papa, but now I heard that Opa and son Joseph had not spoken to eachother for years. Later I was to learn of other broken relationships within the family.The Bachrach clan also included Papas youngest brother, Julius - also a physician-hiswife, Hannah, and their three children. Papa and Hannah also had a long-standing period ofestrangement. This particular break in relationship, unlike several others, was not based on thedifference in keeping traditional religious practices, but on hurt feelings. (Hannah had made funof Papas singing of the Schir Hamaalos at the Friday evening after-dinner song.) Most peoplewould have laughed that off, particularly because most ofus Bachrachs were fully aware that wecould not carry a tune, but forgiveness for errors or indiscretions did not come easily to theBachrachs.Although broken relationships were mended sufficiently for all Bachrach-Hes families tocome to celebrate Joes Bar Mitzvah, was the reconciliation a peace, or a temporary truce? I amnot certain, but, as I learned about other broken relationships within our family, I found repeatedpatterns of behavior in successive generations.Presently, in the year 2000, much has been said and written about repeated patterns ofbehavior- generation after generation- and ofbreaking the cycle. In my family, carrying agrudge was closely interwoven with an unwillingness, or inability, to forgive. I resolved thenthat I would learn to forgive - first to forgive myself for my errors and flawed judgment - andthen others who may have offended me. It has not been an easy lesson to learn, and I am stilllearning.Returning to special recollections in my life, the Bar Mitzvah in 1931 stands out for manyreasons. It was the only time I can remember that I either met uncles, aunts or cousins for the7first time or the last. I believe that everyone, in retrospect, also was glad that we had cometogether. Only a year later that could not have happened.The Tumultuous 30sOpa died in 1932. Many other changes occurred in the 1930s - good and bad, personaland political.Our personal lives had changed in the fall of 1931 when Miss Lina Goldschmidt hadbecome Mama after Papa and she were married. That happened rather suddenly. MissGoldschmidt s father, David Goldschmidt, had died and she, as well as her siblings, thought thatshe should move in with her mother, Klara Goldschmidt, and help settle the Goldschmidtbusiness and personal affairs.Interestingly, Papa again used Joe as an intermediary between himself and me by askingJoe first what he thought of the impending marriage and then having Joe question me for myopinion. I do not know what Joes answer was right then, but I responded that it was a great ideathat Miss Goldschmidt would become our mother. Joe pointed out that there was a bigdifference in their ages - almost 17 years - but I did not see what difference that would make. Iwas not quite 10 years old then. Miss Goldschmidt was 28 and Papa was 44. I considered themboth old.A few days before they left, Papa had told Joe that we were to address Miss Goldschmidtas Mama when they returned from their five-day trip. I could not do that right away, but afterI heard Joe call her Mama, I did too. The first time I ran to ask her for something and calledher Mama, she hugged me, gave me a kiss and a big smile. Afterwards, when talking to othersabout her, I referred to her as my second mother. Having grown up with fairy tales and theirevil stepmothers, I never liked the word stepmother, particularly since Mamas actions in noway resembled that image; on the contrary- she was a real mother to Joe and me.Aside from personal changes in our lives, political events in the 30s and 40s broughtabout changes within our family as it ultimately did in the lives of millions of people.Less than a year after Opa had died, my Uncle Joseph, his wife Viktoria and their twochildren, Hadassah and Raphael, immigrated to Israel (then Palestine) in 1933 shortly after Hitlerhad come to power. The parents had felt threatened by the NAZIS right from the start of theHitler regime in January 1933 because both had been active politically and besides, both werecommitted Zionists. Uncle Julius and aunt Hannah and their three children also left for Palestinein 1934 but, because of their previous conflicts, as well as new ones, the two families (Josephand Julius) had virtually no contact with each other until the end of their lives. That same yearaunt Lena joined her brother and family in Palestine.My own life was affected more deeply by another development: my brother, Joe, leftGermany for England in 1934. Joe dealt with that event in the video which my niece Lisa (Liza)Bachrach Marshall and her husband, Daniel (Dan) made of Joe on his 781h birthday. Lisa andDan sent me a copy [see L TC] that has been both a source of comfort and information for me. In8it Joe speaks of the experiences he had as a 16-year-old (he left in January 1934 and his birthdaywas a few weeks later, on February 9111). In that video, Joe spoke of these experiences, thepolitical developments of that era, and their impact on him. My experiences during that periodwere quite different from his.What we had in common was that I was also just 16 years old when my parents and Iarrived in New York City. (My birthday had been on August 301h and we landed September 3d,1937.) My voyage and that birthday were pretty miserable. Seasickness, mixed withapprehension of the unknown, departure under scary conditions, the separation from friends Imight never see again, all contributed to my misery - to say nothing of the fact that allcommunications in the future would be in English!Before I deal with this new chapter in my life, my immigration to America, rather than toPalestine, my first impression of America and acclimatization to a new country and language, Imust step back in time to say something about living in the Hitler era and its effect on me.The Shadow of HitlerPrior to January 1933 I was a pretty happy girl. I liked school, had many friends, playedV olkerball ( dodge ball) with neighborhood girls, took long bicycle rides and participated insports and in all of these activities had encountered few verbal or physical anti-Semiticconfrontations.The change in behavior of my non-Jewish friends did not come about all of a sudden;instead, it was gradual. At first they gave excuses why they could not play with me anymore, butafter a short time some of them began to appear at school wearing BDMjackets (Bund DeutscherMiidchen) - an open declaration that they had joined the Hitler Youth Movement. Ursula Vaupel[see my correspondence and translations] stated in her farewell speech at the Eschwege reunion,We all belonged to the Hitler Jugend and were conditioned, or brainwashed, to follow whateverdirectives our leaders gave us.The Eschwege reunion brought back many memories of incidents which had aroused myfrustration, disgust and fears. However, before I started these memoirs, I had decided that Iwould deal mainly with incidents that prompted me to take action and bring about changes in mylife. Thus, these reflections were not intended as another example of Holocaust remembrances.Once I began writing, though, I realized that I could not write my life story withoutdealing at greater length with the Holocaust [see material on the Holocaust in AL I andSupplementary Materials], how it affected me and especially the other half of my forebears - theHes family.Changing SchoolsThus, I chose one particular incident which was probably less offensive and less injuriousthan other previous offenses had been. In retrospect, my reaction at the time would appear as anover-reaction. It was the all-too-familiar straw that broke the camels back. It stands out in9my life because it was the only time that I can remember ever telling Papa that I would not dowhat was expected of me.That particular day was Hitlers birthday. I rushed home after school and blurted out Iam NEVER going back to that school again! That school was the Lyzeum, the high schoolfor girls, which I had attended for the past three-and-a-half years. My parents could see that Iwas very agitated; so Papa merely asked Why? What happened? My answer was I am notlearning anything anymore, which was probably the best answer I could have given. Learningand studying for him were a must at any age, particularly in formative years. He continued, Sowhere do you think you will be getting your schooling? That said, I laid out my plan: I wantto go to the Jewish parochial school - you talked about the Jewish community hiring a newinstructor to teach French and English and an expanded curriculum for a 9th school year. (RuthHabler, my best friend, had transferred to that school because her previous government-fundedscholarship was cancelled in 1933 right after Hitler came to power.) I added, Here is what wedid in German class today - for the entire period! This was the poem the German girls hadbeen assigned for that special day. The Jewish girls did not have to learn it but had anotherassignment.Unser FuhrerDu willst nicht Wiirden und nicht EhrenDu willst nur unser Fiihrer seinund willst uns durch dein Vorbild lehren,was echt ist und was eider ScheinSchlicht ist dein Kleid und schlicht deinLeben,Die Arbeit ist deintaglich Fest,dein Gliick ist, deinem Volk zu gebenwas dich dein Miihen erringen !asstUnd dennoch ragst du hoch vor alienund deinen Worten lauscht die Welt,Dich hat des Himmels Wohlgefallenals lichten Stem vor uns gestelltTranslation: Our LeaderYou neither want tributes nor honorsYou just want to be our leaderAnd [you] want to teach us by exampleWhat is true and what is mere pretenseYour attire is simple and so is your life,Work is your daily festivalYou are made happy by giving to yourpeopleWhat you have achieved by your strugglesYet, you tower above everyone elseAnd the world is spell-bound by your wordsHeavenly [divine] approval has chosen youAs a bright star ahead of usThere were more stanzas to this drivel passing for poetry, but I cannot remember a singleword of the rest of it, just as I could never forget the three stanzas above, much as I tried. Theteachers instructions had been that the Jewish girls didnt have to learn this poem, onlyGerman girls were entitled to give this tribute to our Fuhrer. She was right. We did notHA VE to learn it; we heard it TWENTY times! I can still feel the anger, the outrage and disgustI felt after hearing these recitations for an entire class period!10Aside from my request for a change in schools, a protest against the treatment wereceived at the Lyzeum, I had another reason for focusing on this particular incident because theevent in 1934 was linked with the reunion in 1989.The Eschwege Reunion 1989 - Fifty Year Commemoration of the Crystal NightThe farewell dinner, given by the town the night before our departures for our respectivehomes, held a surprise. Many of us lingered after all the speeches had been given. We justwanted to talk with some of the friends we had met again - people we never expected to seeagain - and to chat with others whom we had not known previously. Suddenly a manapproached me and exclaimed, I know who you are! Forgive me for interrupting, but I am thePrincipal of the former Lyzeum - now the Leuchtbergschule - and I ask you to answer somequestions that have troubled me for years, please!The man had introduced himself by stating I know who you are! I know you wereRuth Bachrach, that your class had 28 students and eight of them were Jewish. According to ourschools records, one student left in 1933, one in 1934, and the other six in 1935. I want toknow: HOW WAS THIS DONE? WHO told the girls that they could no longer attend a publichigh school? WHAT exactly was said? And WHO SAID IT? Was it the Principal? Did anyoneask WHY? HOW WAS IT DONE? He repeated the question softly. What would I have done,ifI had been the Principal at that time? How could I have lived with myself, after denying somestudents the right to attend the school of their choice -just because they were Jews?I told him that I could answer some of his questions only. Then I filled him in on myfriend, Ruth Habler, leaving the Lyzeum in 1933 (Ruth lost the state-funded scholarship to paytuition for attending the Lyzeum after Hitler came to power-no state money for Jews), ofmyleaving in 1934 and as to the other six students, a law had been passed which stated that Jewscould no longer attend public schools. That was the reason why there were no Jewish studentsafter 1935. The four interrogatives he had used were the same ones all ofus heard mostfrequently in Eschwege and elsewhere: WHO? WHAT? HOW? And WHY?These questions have plagued many for personal reasons as well as for public discussions- questions such as:WHO bears responsibility for the Holocaust when people have been taughtunquestioning obedience all of their lives?WHAT is that fine line between blind obedience to laws and orders, but, asdecreed at the Nuremberg Trials [see NurembergL aws p. 15], demand individualmoral judgment?HOW could a Holocaust happen in a country that was hailed by authors fromother lands as das Land der Dichter und Denker? (the land of poets andphilosophers).WHY did the world not stop the NAZIS when the monstrous plan of the FinalSolution [see Wannsee article in Supplementary Material] -the systematic killing ofEuropean Jewry - became known?11In Eschwege, we looked around at one another as children and grandchildren, parents andgrandparents, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters and, by our presence, gave testimony thatthe plan for annihilation of anything Jewish had failed. At the same time, we mourned the tragicdeath of loved ones, of millions of others known and unknown to us, and the loss of Jewishculture and heritage - forever lost and irreplaceable.As the principal said good-bye to me, he handed me two pictures of the formerLyzeum and asked me to deliver or send the second picture to Ruth Habler. I delivered it inperson the weekend I stayed with her in New York for the reunion held the year after the reunionin Eschwege. Karl Goldsmith and his wife Marianne hosted that get-together in 1990, at theirhome. [See ERA.] The picture of the former Lyzeum is in the Life Stories Memorabilia.This quotation caught my eye as I was sorting some materials, gathered after the reunionin Eschwege:Nicht durchs Wegsehen,sondem <lurch das Hinsehenwird die Seele freiTranslation:The soul is freed (liberated),Not by looking away (avoidance)But rather by looking at (focusing on ... problems, past mistakes, painful memories, etc.)Anna Maria Zimmer cited this quote in her original thesis, prepared to meet requirementsfor high school teaching (equivalent to a thesis for M.A. here). The quotation, taken fromTheodor Litts Journal of a Jewish Congregation [title translated: A History of the JewishCongregation with. . . NAZIS], reflects my viewpoint now on ways to deal with problems, painfulmemories and unresolved issues in my life. I have concluded that some of my missedoμportunities and unresolved issues will remain unresolved.Earlier in this life story I alluded to Joe leaving Germany for England in 1934 and toscary conditions surrounding our departure. My brothers leaving affected me deeply. I was12\1, years old at that time and had relied on him for advice and shared activities, such as bicyclerides outside of Eschwege to neighboring points of interest or visiting Opa and aunt Lena inReichensachsen, playing chess or building elaborate structures with his Erector sets.I knew that I would miss my brother; and I did. While enjoying some of the benefitswhich an only child may experience, I sorely missed his companionship.A Difficult YearSo many factors contributed to making 1934 a difficult year for me. On one hand, theyear started out with Joe leaving, school becoming more and more unbearable, NAZIpropaganda getting louder and more vicious, and reports of some people disappearing, persons12who were never heard from again. On the other hand, my friendship with Ruth drew closer andmy transfer to the Jewish parochial school changed my life for the better.Before I start to tell about the scary conditions associated with our departure for theU.S., I need to explain why I considered myself a happy child before 1933. Simply put: I feltloved and secure. Our close family ties, strengthened by many joint family activities andconsistent practice of Jewish traditions contributed to my feeling safe. Although the NAZI eraintruded on that sense of security in the outside world, our home life lent much stability to a veryunstable world. I regained some of that secure feeling once I transferred to the Jewish school.Our teacher, Mr. Wiesenfelder [see ERA,p. 75; also his children fifty years later, ERA,p. 61], heightened our feeling secure and protected by his seeming constant vigilance, especiallyour daily coming and going to and from school. In the morning and afternoon he would stand onthe top of the entrance steps and watch until we had passed the curve in the narrow street, theEnge Strasse. He had instructed us at the beginning of the school year and had reminded us,that the big kids should walk in two groups. One group should walk ahead of the little onesand the other group should walk behind them. There was safety in numbers, he said, and in thatway, if any Hitler youths and/or hoodlums would come and attack us suddenly, the front lineshould send the little ones on to run home while the line in back moved to the front line quickly,thereby reinforcing one another. In any case, we understood that we were responsible to havethe little ones get home safely. That sounded reasonable and we, the back row kids, before wecame to the bend in the street, looked back to see if Mr. W. was watching us. Seeing him on topof the steps was very reassuring, and again, I felt safe.Then, one day Mr. W. was not at school. Mr. W. never missed school. Why wasnt hethere? We had a substitute teacher that day, and the next. On the third day Mr. W. returnedleaning on a cane, wearing a leg cast, a big bandage over his swollen right eye, scratches andbruises and a different pair of glasses. He still came out to stand on top of the stairs when welooked back, but I no longer felt as secure. We all could see his vulnerability and realized thatwe would be just as vulnerable as he had been when attacked by a gang.Because I had only a little more than one year left at the Jewish parochial school, I startedto make plans for the coming year of 1936-37. [Two books from Woifratshausen friends withtranslated inscriptions confirm the dates. See L TC.]The SOthE schwege Reunion Album shows places to which the following anecdotes refer:Page 21A is a picture of the Anlagen -a park about a block-and-a-half from our housein the Reichensachser Strasse. During my first and second year at the Lyzeum, I always took ashortcut crossing the park, passing the Nicolaiturm, (ERA,p. 21B) to Ruth (Habler) Stromshouse (ERA,p. 23). That routine walk came to a sudden halt after a law was passed during thesecond half of my third year which no longer permitted Jews to enter that or other city parks. Itwas VERBOTEN! For me that law meant that I had to walk several blocks around the peripheryof the park to and from her house to ours. Normally I did not mind this extra detour that much;however, one day, when I had a very sore throat with chills, I just wanted to get home quicklyand go to bed. I became so enraged by this stupid law [other stupid laws surfaced later with13the Nuremberg Laws - seep. 15] that I broke into tears by the time I got home. Theaccumulation of incidents such as this one and many others were included when I wrote earlier inmy life story of growing harassment and increased NAZI viciousness by the mid-1930s.I related another short story during the Eschwege reunion at the meeting with a class ofGerman high school students. A 15-year-old had asked for some specific examples in which wewere harassed, embarrassed or hurt during the NAZI period. Walter Diimberg [ERA, p. 51], ourneighbors younger son, told of the beating his classmates had put him through; a reporter of thelocal newspaper included that episode in that days article titled Trlinen im Klassenzimmer -Tears in the Classroom [B.N.N.A. newspaper article]. Karl Goldsmith told of numerousbeatings, too [see Addendum,pgs. 120, 121].Several others told of their experiences. I told them of one student starting to sing a songthat was very offensive to us and I cited an excerpt of that song:... Kameraden, Kameraden,hlingt die Juden,stellt die Bonzen an die Wand;und wenn das Judenblutvom Messer spritzt,dann geht s nochmal so gut. ..Translation:... Comrades, comradeshang the Jews,put the bums against the walland when Jewish bloodsquirts from the knife,things will go twice as well. ..This teacher had allowed the class to finish that song, although she told them not to singit in class again. (We had always started her classes with a song.) She was the same teacher whotaught German and Music and was a firm believer that a song energizes and that it helped a classperiod to get off to a good start. I used to like the singing before there was a Hitler Youthmovement and the subject of the songs had dealt with nature, change of seasons or love andwhen all ofus sang together. Once the girls became BDM members, one of them started thesong they had learned in their Hitler youth meetings, most of them not as vicious as the one citedbefore, but again the Jewish girls stood by silently as the others sang. (We now know all toowell what segregation, isolation, rejection and lack of validation can do to people, but especiallyto young persons.)Aside from my school activities I had become involved in a young Zionist organizationearlier, called the HABONIM (The Builders) and had intended to immigrate to Palestine (then amandate under Great Britain and not the independent state oflsrael yet) to live and work in aKibbutz (commune) [see Karl Goldsmiths Addendum]. The next school which I wanted toattend, therefore, had to be acceptable as Hachscharah (Preparation). The WirtschaftlicheFrauenschule in Wolfratshausen was my choice. It had a good reputation for its strongacademic curriculum, a strictly kosher kitchen under strict rabbinical supervision and it qualifiedas Hachscharah, preparatory for working in Palestine and building the land.14The Nuremberg Laws1. The first law was the Reich Flag Law which proclaimed black, white and red to bethe official colors and the swastika to be the national flag. (Jews were forbidden todisplay those colors - this was linked to the second Law.)2. The Citizenship Law made the distinction between Germans and Jews. Germanswere citizens of the Reich which gave them full political and civil rights; Jews weresubjects of the Reich and were not entitled to those rights. To be a citizen youhad to prove that German blood flowed through your veins.3. The Defense of German Blood Honor Law prohibited marriage and extramaritalsex between Jews and Germans and made it illegal for a Jewish home to employ ahousekeeper, nanny or maid under the age of forty-five. (Propaganda Minister JosephGoebbels addressed a large meeting following a rally and showed his contempt forthe new subjects and hinted in this speech of a more drastic solution to the Jewishproblem to come later.The following hand-out on the Nuremberg Laws which I gave to my second year Germanstudents in the 1970s is an example of the new ditto machine - a great teacher-helper.Although the subject matter may seem elementary, I include it not only for its content, but alsoas a sample of duplicating material. The ditto machine for me then was what the computer,Internet and websites have become to the next generations.We had one ditto machine for the whole school and it was kept in the office. It was asituation in which the early bird caught the worm; otherwise you stood in line. Later on,different departments had their own machines and we saw that as tremendous progress - quite acontrast to many classrooms now in which each student has a computer to work on.15!l 111 Intermediate GermanIfNurnber2; (Nuremberg)an<f t1e World Courtt i I . Ci t y of Nurnber gIfA. F,arl ier History1. 2nd lar g est city of Ba. var ia ( Bayern)2. one of the oldest cities in Germany3. many histort\cal ]landmarks and toy industry4. during Middle Ages - one of the most important cultural,~ G~;r;.cl centers5. the lst Gymnasium ( h igh scl-iool) was established in Nur nberg6. t he ls t German paper mill waw Pere7. Peter Henlein invented what may have been the 1st watcharound 1500 ( Nurnberger Eier)8. it ha d been a free city before it became a part of Bavariain the early 1800•s9 . it became a Protestant .center during tlie ReformationB . . After 1933 (Hitler came to power J ~nuary, 1.933)1.. Nazis held t h eir nation-wide assemblies & congresses in N.2. in 1935 the Reic h stag (Nazi-controlled na. tional assembly ) Iapproved & passed the 11Nirnberger Gesetze (Nuremberg Lat1s)a. t h ese forbade Germans to marry Jewsb. t h ey deprived Jews of citizenshipc. t h ey made the swastica t h~ national flag, ,c. Nurnberg Trials1. were a series of 13 tn.als betwee 1945 - 19492. Leaders Of the Nazis were accused of crimes vs international3. 1st trial was before Internat. Military Tribubal(representation of u. S., Britain, ~nee & USSR)law4. later tribunals h eld in eac h of the occupied zones(US h eld 12 trials in Nurnberg from 1.946-1.949 againstmilitary leaders. principal officers in SS, industialisti,~overnment officials, Nazi jud~es, & doctors ( who hadenp;a~ed in medical experimentation in concentration camps)II I. D· Importance of Trialst if.A. Stttinp; Aof International Laws\\L many saw t he trials as a mea.ns for preserving peace & civil lz,.2. some criticized t bem as acts of vengeance by t he victorsB. In Wars following WWII ind ividua.ls ~ ve been held responsiblefor crimes committed vs military or civilian population ( 1. e.Lieutenant Calley in Viet-Nam)_ tA•Joti hf f~q tu -f ;c. /e-5 +;If J<)iJ;)..,5 c.e o,c C D ( d[As you can see by the most recent article, dated February 22, 2002, the Nuremberg Lawsand the subsequent Nuremberg Trials have had far-reaching consequences - even to this day.Martin Goldsmith, the author of the book The Inextinguishable Symphony quotes hisfathers response to emigrate in the mid-thirties with some familiar remarks such as, Wherewould I go? What would I do? Im nearly 57 years old. And besides, I fought for the Kaiser.(I wrote in my early text of the Life Stories of Papas cousin, Herman Bachrach, when we visitedhim in Essen shortly before we left for the U.S., stopping briefly in England first.) Hermansanswer at that time had been exactly the same. Tragically, neither his family nor he, nor thefather and brother of Martin Goldsmith survived their respective horrific experiences during thelater Hitler era. (By the way, the author Martin Goldsmith is unrelated to Mamas family and toKarl Goldsmith, my friend since childhood.)Numerous anti-Jewish laws followed the Greenspan Case - following the November 9-10 night of the Pogrom, the so-called Crystal Night.Reinhard Hydrick, head of the SD Secret Police added another law that every Jew wasproperly identified and required to wear a special emblem or badge; the yellow star came a littlelater.All Jewish children in German public schools were expelled (many had left before itbecame an official edict- as I did - because harassment, attacks and anti-semitic outbursts hadbecome intolerable).Drivers licenses belonging to Jews were declared invalid. Jews were banned from alltheaters, cinemas, concert halls, museums, sports fields, stadiums and skating rinks. The listgoes on and on.Martin Goldsmith writes extensively about the effects of the NAZI era on him and hisfamily and the Jildische Kulturbund (KUBU) and the importance of this one and only means tohave any artistic or cultural experiences for Jews in Germany after 1938.On January 6, 1939, the anniversary of Hitlers appointment as chancellor, he stated, Inmy life I have often been a prophet and the people laughed at me ... the Jews laughed the loudestat the prophecy that one day I would be the leader of the German state ... and then I woulddiscover the solution to the Jewish problem ... Today I am going to make another prophecy: ifthe Jewish financiers succeed in precipitating another world war, the result will not be worldBolshevism and therefore a victory for the Jews, but rather the annihilation of the Jewish race inEurope.On September 1, 1941 a new law revived the medieval practice of forcing Jews to wear ayellow star in public; October 19th Jews were forbidden to leave their homes without policepermission. October 18th the deportation of Jews from Berlin to the ghettos and exterminationcamps began. On October 23rd the countrys borders were sealed and Jews could no longer leaveGermany.23Aside from his data on the Nuremberg Laws and his insights into other aspects of theeffects the laws, the atmosphere and the on-going emotional scars the period left on those wholived through the NAZI era, Martin Goldsmith dealt in the Inextinguishable Symphony with thegamut of emotions.Some of these struck a responsive chord in me. He writes about guilt on p. 329: Guilttakes many forms. Sometimes it acts as prosecutor, judge and jury. In the year that followed theend of the Second World War, my father learned of the probable violent deaths of his family andmade a choice to abandon his flute. I believe that those two facts are not coincidental. I believethat my father, as penance for the deaths of his family, unconsciously sentenced himself to anunhappy professional life, one far removed from the realms of art and music that he deeplyloved. I should hasten to point out that my father rejects this analysis. With all the love andcompassion I can muster, I stand by it.An element of his past that he also finds hard to accept is his Jewishness. As I havealready observed, my brother and I were raised with virtually no religious instruction. Wetherefore had no sense of ourselves as Jews. I always understood that my parents had come froma Jewish background, but I was also aware of the Christmas trees in the homes my parents grewup in. My father never went any further in his religious identification than to occasionally referto himself as a so-called Jew. (This last paragraph highlights the fundamental differencebetween the life and self-identity of the assimilated German Jew as compared to the orthodoxJewish environment that I grew up in.)The author returned to Oldenburg-his ancestors home -to do some further researchand found there in the rabbinical records that his father, Gunther Ludwig Goldschmidt, had a barmitzvah in the autumn of 1926 after he had turned thirteen years of age. The sons reaction wasI was thunderstruck. .. my father the so-called Jew had been bar mitzvahed? So how Jewishwas he really? and for that matter, how Jewish am I? ... I asked ifhe thought of himself as aJew. No, he replied instantly ... I dont consider myself a Jew ... Adolf Hitler called him aJew, and forced him to add Ysrael to his name, and killed his father and sibling ... all becauseof this unseen aspect of his identity.Martin Goldsmiths conclusion for the reason that his parents never told the story of theirfamilies, The story of cruelty, humiliation and undeserved death was that it must have been toopainful for his mother and father to even think about what had happened, much less talk about it. ... I am sure as well that they must have wanted to protect us.Finally, he speaks of his fathers distaste for our ages embrace ofvictimhood. He whohad suffered so much and is uncomfortable with the designation Holocaust survivor because,unlike his father, mother, sister and brother he never spent time in a camp and emergedphysically unscarred from that horrible era. But I know he carries emotional scars that will neverheal. The author continues, My father respects the direct victims of the NAZIS too much toclaim that distinction for himself. (Joe and I both expressed that same attitude at the Reunion.)24The son adds that his generation must simply Embrace the responsibility to do their bestto understand those eldest still living, those who have borne most to talk to them, love themand bear witness.His last gesture is having the name of Martin, son of Alex, added to the roster ofOldenbergs citizens, recording his marriage October 1999. He proves with that last gesture thathis family is not extinguished.P.S. I found the book fascinating.Summer of 1936The inquiries and planning for the school year of 1936-37 had actually begun well beforethe summer of 1936, and that summer stands out in my mind for many reasons.First, Joe came home for his last trip to Germany and he and I went to Papenburg to seeour maternal grandparents and the other Hes family members.That visit turned out to be the last time we saw our grandparents and, unfortunately,many others of our family. One little picture is the only picture I have of our grandparents [seeAL I, p. 29], and we almost did not get even this one. Oma had always been reluctant to have herpicture taken, but after much coaxing and pleading she finally consented.Oma was very superstitious - no umbrella could be opened before you had steppedoutside the house nor could it be left open to dry inside - chestnuts in her pockets were a must tofight her rheumatism and I could give many other examples. The reason for her steadfast refusalto have her picture taken was in her own words da kommt nichts Guts danach! (nothing goodcomes from this) or phrased simply [ a family picture] brings bad luck.We convinced her finally to sit down to get a photo with all the grandchildren, andbesides, Miriam would not sit still for anyone else but she would sit still in Omas lap. Oma,who was not very communicative generally, seemingly had close bonds with Miriam, maybe inpart because they lived in the same house and she was the baby there.Before I commence with the Hes family saga, the following events are my earliestrecollections relating to the Hes family. I am not certain that all of these early memories areentirely my own or whether Papa had helped me in recalling the following incidents:The first one was in 1924 and the occasion was my aunt Sophie, called Lieses weddingto Bernhard Rothschild. I had been told to hold the veil that she was wearing over herwedding dress. When the wedding party was assembled and aunt Liese was ready to beginwalking, something stopped her from moving on. She turned around, probably to see whethersomeone had stepped on her long veil or whether it had caught on some object, but instead shesaw a little three-year-old with feet firmly implanted in the carpet, pulling back with all herstrength to hold the veil. Den Schleier halten is what I had been instructed to do, so why didaunt Liese and all the others start laughing so hard when they turned around and looked at me? I25did just what I had been told to do! The next thing I did was NOT what I had been told to do, Itook off like a lightning bolt and refused to go back; thus, the wedding ceremony had to proceedwith the veil trailing on the floor after the bride.The following years incident happened at another wedding. This one was not held inPapenburg, the bridegroom Ignatz Hess home, but in Halberstadt, the home of his bride, SelmaAdler.I was to be the flower girl on this occasion and was asked to drop little flowers from mybasket on the floor before the bride walked down the aisle. At least I did not have to hold theveil again! Having a flower basket with flowers to drop sounded like fun - until the weddingceremony; when I saw what was happening to my pretty flowers. These were my favorites:miniature, double, painted daisies and people were stepping on them! They did, but not for long.I quickly gathered the ones nobody had stepped on and, once again, I took off. This bride alsohad to walk the rest of the way not according to plan. This ended my second gala performance.One more starring role which I took part in was the dinner party of my uncle lgnatz andmy new aunt Selma. For this affair I had been well coached by Papa. (Our children must bearwith me because they have heard this story repeatedly, but our grandchildren, hopefully mayenjoy reading it, especially John and Sarah Tulchinsky Baer, whose two-year-old niece balked atwalking across the aisle from one side to the other during their wedding ceremony.)This other particular affair in 1925, which I also participated in, involved aHampelmann (puppet). Papa had shown me how to pull the string at the right moment in orderto move its arms up and down. The Hampelmann had such a happy and laughing face and Iliked playing with it. Papa also had written a little ditty which I was to recite while pulling thepuppets string. The ditty just said:Ich bin die kleine Ucke,Ich halt mich nicht zuriicke;Ich schenk der Braut nen Hampelmann,Damit sie damit spielen kann.[In German it is der Hampelmann - themasculine definite article.]Translation:I am little Ucke (the name I had givenmyself),I am not bashful;I present the bride with a Hampelmann,So that she can play with it/him.I obviously had performed brilliantly, according to instructions, because everybody brokeout in gales of laughter. This time I laughed right along with them because the Hampelmann wasso funny. Who knows about double entendres at four years of age? Besides, at that age andlevel of sophistication, who would know that a Hampelmann was another term for a hen-peckedhusband? Not I!I added this last little anecdote for two reasons: First, it demonstrates, even at this earlyage, that I asserted myself strongly when someone stepped on my toes - in this case it meantpeople who stepped on my flowers. The second reason was that the incident shows a very26different side of Papa, not previously brought out. It shows that Papa could be impish, funny andironic, all lumped together.Even though I have so far told my life story by shifting in time from later years tochildhood to the present year 2000, I have tried to maintain some chronological order of events.In order to do that, I want to withhold dealing with the Hes family until a later time in this story.Altogether, my Papenburg visits hold many happy childhood memories but they also bring tomind very sad reflections on What Might Have Been for so many. ·So, going back to the summer of 1936, Joe returned to England and I started my 36-37school year in Wolfratshausen, a small community close to Munich.Going Away to SchoolWas it easy? Was it profitable and worthwhile? What did I learn? Did it change me?Yes, it did. I had no problems with my academic studies in psychology, sociology, Jewishhistory, etc.; so in that sense it was easy.What was not so easy to overcome was my homesickness and lack of privacy. I had toget used to living with four other young women, sharing one room and doing everything in largergroups. In the process, I learned cooperation in working with others.The students had come from various backgrounds, some orthodox, others assimilated,from different parts of Germany and Austria, either speaking Hochdeutsch (High German) ordialects. That represented a challenge for some of us. The age difference presented anotherchallenge because I was one of the youngest girls there - age 14-15 and coming from Eschwege,I was not in the same league with the 18-year-olds who had lived in big cities. This exposure todiversity, though, helped me to acquire some social skills, and altogether that year opened somenew horizons for me.A one-hour train ride to Munich provided cultural opportunities for growth in music( operas and concerts - not rock), museums and art galleries, and many new experiences formost ofus. At the same time we also saw and heard some of the most extreme anti-Semiticposters, placards and other publications of hate literature posted on buildings, publictransportation and vile songs polluting the air.It came as no surprise to us that NAZI propaganda was so prevalent in Munich, the seatof the NAZI party and place of the Putsch (an earlier, but unsuccessful, attempt by Hitler togain power)- public parades of SA men (brownshirts) and Hitler Youth groups grew ever moreprominent in size and number. At the same time, for our protection, the school imposed morerestrictions on our comings and goings.During our second semester we learned how to make barren land become productive.WFW (Wirtschaftliche Frauenschule, Wolfratshausen) was situated in a scenic area in thefoothills of the Alps, and had several years earlier acquired unimproved land that we were toaerate and make productive. This was a requirement for the administration to meet standards for27preparation for Kibbutz life in Palestine. To make unimproved land become productive meantrocks had to be removed, and by joint effort, some boulders that had rolled down from highermountains. The work was hard but we knew that living on a Kibbutz would not be any easierand for many ofus that was our goal then. [The pin with WFW inscription was the pin I receivedat graduation.from the Wirtschaftliche Frauenschule Wolfratshausen. Found in LSMT (LifeStories memorabilia tin.).]We cultivated that area, planted and seeded in early spring of 193 7, fertilized, watered,nurtured faithfully and watched the fruit of our labor with anticipation. We took delight inwatching our fruits and vegetables grow and we eagerly anticipated harvest time - but that nevercame. Instead, we found one morning that vegetables and bushes had been pulled out by theroots, hacked or cut to pieces and stones strewn all over the fields.We hear and read nowadays about all kinds of rage - from road rage to race rage. Iremember feeling rage when I saw that wanton destruction and devastation. This incidenthappened about six weeks before the year was up and I was more than ready to go home.Before I leave the topic of Wolfratshausen, I thought it might be of some interest to ourgrandchildren, Peter, Sarah, Daniel, Michael and Melissa (Missy) to learn that my cooking andbaking skills were helped considerably by this years experience. (Without that basic training,would the chocolate chippers have been the same?)Our cooking/baking teacher was also the director of the school, and she was a toughtaskmaster, particularly as it related to keeping the area clean as we worked in the kitchen. Attimes it was maddening, but also fruitful.The strongest selling point of my choice of Wolfratshausen as far as Papa was concernedhad been by learning everything I would need to know to run a household efficiently and learnto budget properly. Once I had learned those basic skills, I could pursue any professional goal Ihad set for myself.The reason for Papas considering those skills so important was neither his mother nor hissister seemingly demonstrated good management of a household or a budget. Although hehardly ever spoke to me about his mother, he praised her intellectual abilities but was notcomplimentary relating to her practical skills.In as much as Papa did little to keep the memory ofmy birth-mother alive for me (silentvisits to a gravesite are not enough), it is not surprising that I know little more than a few medicalfacts about Papas mother, Natalie Fuld Bachrach.I know that his mother had diabetes, and so did Papa. Her death though was not theresult of this illness but rather the complications of the flu that ravaged so many people during1918, not just in Europe but in so many areas around the world.As to Papas diabetic symptoms, I remember him using saccharin in his coffee or tea andnot eating sweets containing sugar. That meant that Joe and I got the extra dessert whenever we28were on vacation and ate in a Pension. Much later I learned that Papa had to inject himselfwith insulin twice daily.You may consider these last paragraphs as an irrelevant digression at this time, but Ichose to include health factors that presently are considered familial or tendencies to certainillnesses in this account of my forebears.Interlaken, SwitzerlandTo expedite the writing about the remaining months of 1936, I picked the highlight ofthat year - our summer vacation at Interlaken, Switzerland, where we met Joe. (For Sarah andJohns sake I refer to some specific places that they may have seen on their extended travelsduring their last year abroad.)Anyone who has seen Interlaken and its beautiful surroundings, must have beenenchanted by it, as I was. However, it was more than just beautiful scenery for us; it was a totalchange of atmosphere - no columns of Brown Shirts goose-stepping in streets, no Heil Hitlergreetings, no swastikas, no posters - just warm Hellos, (Griiss Gott!) What a contrast!We had a very special experience on the day we arrived. The weather had not looked toopromising, and it started raining heavily when we arrived at our Pension. Papa suggested that wetake a drive and explore what might be interesting places to see in the days ahead. The four of uswere happy to be together and enjoyed the ride even though visibility of surroundings waslimited. We followed a serpentine climbing road and finally came to a small sign with an arrowthat said Triimmelbachfalle (waterfall ofTriiummelbach- a creek or brook). We had seen allkinds of waterfalls and gorges before in 1931 when Papa, Joe and I had gone to GarmischPartenkirchenin Bavaria, and I at that time had seen the Alps for the first time. We wereskeptical when we saw this rather unimpressive sign.Nevertheless, we decided to take the path to the falls. As we neared it, we could hearrushing waters and then we saw the source of water spray all around us and heard the roaringnoise. The sight was awesome and awe-inspiring. The waters from above had forced a circularhole through the mountain wall in circumference about three times the outstretched arms of anadult man. This sight alone was worth the climb, but when we looked down we saw the falldropping from this force of nature as if dynamited onto rocks and boulders and finally windingsnakelike through the valley.By the time we returned to our car, the rain had stopped, the sun was shining and thesnow-covered mountain peaks sparkled. Nature had provided us with a special gift, we felt.There was, however, another sight to behold on our way down from the falls as the sun wassetting. In German it is called Alpengliihen (literally: Alp-glow) as though the mountains hadbeen set on fire and were holding their glow until the sun disappeared behind them.Having seen such magnificence and power of nature all in one day, when least expected,marked this day in my memory throughout my life. This memory and many other good oneshave been stored in my brain as special moments.29Actually, I had seen an Alpengliihen once before when Papa, Joe and I had gone to ·Garmisch-Partenkirchen, and when I fell in love with mountains and thought that I would live inmountainous countryside in my future. I did not think it would be in South Bend, Indianainstead.Before I leave the topic of the Alps during childhood and adolescence, have Jeff refreshyour memory or tell the anecdote about Herr Schmidt and Papas threat to me that I could notcome along to the Alps in 1931 if Mr. Schmidt complained about my performance in French.Jeff has reminded me more than once of this story.The Salt Mine in HalleinWe took a tour of the salt mines in Hallein, Austria. Part of the tour involved slidingdown the chutes in the mine . The men were given leather pads to sit on to protect them from theheat caused by the friction of sliding. The women were given no extra protection. It was a hottrip down the chute!The translation of identifying place and time in Mamas handwriting is:Saltmine (in) Hallein (Austria) July 1932. I am between Joe and Papa on the train whichtook us out to the end station.In any case, the two-week vacation seemed to fly by so quickly but it gave us anopportunity to refresh and rejuvenate our spirits and to inspire us. We regretfully said goodbyeto Joe and started on our way back.30The guard on duty at the Swiss border came out to greet us, gave me a trial package ofSwiss chocolates; he barely glanced at the passports Mama held out to him, asked my parents acouple of questions, raised the gate, and his parting words were, We hope you will come backsoon.How far was the distance between the Swiss and German border guards (the latter inNAZI uniform of course)? It might just as well have been 100 miles; in reality, it was probablyless than 200 meters. The change in atmosphere was startling. One might compare it to Dorothyfrom The Wizard of Oz stepping from black-and-white images to a brightly colored world ofmagic and back to reality with one marked difference: Dorothys first uttered words were,There is no place like home as she returned to consciousness, whereas Papas first words whenthe gates were finally raised were, Its time that we get out of this country.While we had waited in a parking space for the guard to return our passports, anotherguard had come out to let other cars through almost instantly; however, unlike us, the passengersin those cars returned the Hitler salute or had swastika flags on their cars!Scary Moment at the Passport Office in StuttgartSome months before that trip, the consulate which had issued passports to me and Papawas quick in processing them. However, it was a lengthy process for Mama. After Papa and Ihad waited for quite some time, Papa was obviously getting very anxious and I finally asked,What is taking Mama so long? His reply was, It might have something to do with her arm.With her arm? What about her arm? I asked in return. Its quite a bit shorter, he added.Sooooo? I could not make sense of this. I had noticed it when I first met her, but I was neverconscious of it.After she had become Mama and a dressmaker came to the house to do alterations andsewing dresses for me, I had seen Mama in a slip and had seen her arm. She had told meafterwards that she had to have an operation at the age of two and the doctors had to take out partof the bone of her upper arm. (Cosmetic surgery at the beginning of the twentieth century wasan unknown or non-existent option.)So, what did the fact that her upper right arm was shorter than the left one have to do withgetting a passport and permit to emigrate to the U.S.A.?As it finally turned out, Papas guess was correct. The Board granting Entry Permits tothe U.S. had questioned Mama at length, a female officer who escorted her to another room,asked her to take off her blouse and had her go through all kinds of exercises, including movinga stack of dishes from an upper shelf to a lower one.Mama was very adroit in doing almost everything with her right arm and hand and incovering up the shortness of the right arm. Whatever she could reach, her right hand did andtransferred it to the left one quickly.31The Board finally issued the Entry Permit to Mama after she had convinced them that shewas capable of supporting herself and me if Papa were to become incapacitated or died. (Theymay not have phrased it quite this bluntly, but that was the gist of it.)In talking to Mama afterwards, I asked her why she always tried to have someone orsomething in front of her when posing for a picture; she gave this reason: A talkative neighborlady had dropped in on her mother, Klara Goldschmidt, and had referred to Mama as yourcrippled child; to which Oma Goldschmidt replied, I dont have a crippled child. WhenMama asked her mother why the woman had referred to her as crippled, her mother assuredher that she could do everything that any child her age could do and that she was not crippled.The 1931 picture with Mama, her uncle and aunt and sister, Gisela, in the background isone of many pictures with Mama but is, I believe, the only one in which she did not havesomeone or something in front of her [ AL I, p. 8]. She was very conscious of that short arm andthe previous incident explains why.Mamas response to Papas expressed anxiety about leaving Germany as soon as possiblewas an emphatic agreement. Although my parents had applied earlier for passports, German exitpermission and numerous papers to leave Germany, they decided at this time to expedite theprocess and go either to the U.S. or to Palestine, whichever would materialize first.The Four QuestionsThis may be the place and time when the four interrogatives come into play again:WHO? WHAT? HOW? WHY?WHO made it possible for us to come to the United States in 19377 The answer is MacGoldsmith (changed from Max Goldschmidt), Mamas eldest brother, an immigrant to Englandin the early 1930s who had business connections with other countries, among them the UnitedStates. Two of these industrialists, one living in Elmira, New York, the other in Detroit,Michigan, sent affidavits for my parents and me; thereby they assumed financial responsibilityfor us in case of emergency or need. Both of these men, perfect strangers to us, became ourbenefactors and enabled us to leave Germany in 193 7 with our lives and belongings.WHAT was the guiding force that led to this fortunate tum of events for us?This is one of those unanswerable questions for me. Was it luck, fate, chance, ourguardian angels working overtime or Papas foresight in recognizing the urgency of a plannedexodus for Jews early in the NAZI era? I believe all of the above and more!HOW did I feel about the sudden change of my previous plans of immigrating toPalestine and living on a Kibbutz?Actually, my earlier Zionist zeal had become moderated by other influences during theWolfratshausen experience, having new friends with different ideas and ideologies. Besides, Iknew very little about America and could not even begin to guess how life there would unfold.32To answer the above question, my inner change and increased outside political pressure to getout now brought about a change for me intellectually and emotionally.Why were we three-Papa, Mama and I- among the chosen ones out of Europeschosen people to escape the Holocaust and start our lives all over in the United States?That question has haunted me as it has so many others who, like me, survived while somany others suffered terribly and perished miserably.The WHY question often reflects a state of self-pity, as in Why did I come down withthis illness or disability? What did I do to deserve such misfortune? In my case it was the exactopposite. I was and am no better than others; yet, I lived while others did not. WHY? - anotherunanswerable question.Once we returned to Eschwege from Interlaken, reality set in quickly. Because myparents could no longer employ a German maid, Mama and I had to do all the cooking, cleaningand washing and we did not have a dishwasher, nor an automatic washer-dryer for office andhousehold linen. In addition, when needed, Mama had to assist Papa in the office.During the years of 1936-37 my parents started to buy items they intended to take to theU.S., which were packed into lifts. [Lifts= waterproof crates, the size of a moving van.]All this bustling was interrupted by the death of my maternal grandparents who diedwithin a month of each other. Oma, Mathilde Prag Hess date of death was September 15, 1936and Opas was October 16, 1936. I do not know the actual cause of their deaths, but ageundoubtedly was a factor and so was the stress related to political events. I am thankful that theydid not live to see and experience the Crystal Night of 1938.By 1936 their business had virtually collapsed because the citizens of Papenburg, asmaller community than Eschwege, all knew one another, and Germans were forbidden tofrequent Jewish enterprises. My brother Joe talked in his video about the similar condition inEschwege, namely that Papas practice was undermined by the German physician across fromour house who reported any German citizen who came to Papas office.I said earlier in this life story that I did not intend to write another Holocaustremembrance. I still maintain that position because I do not consider myself a Holocaustsurvivor, but rather a lucky person who immigrated to America but was affected by the Hitlerera.I concur with Isaac Bashevis Singers reply to the question Why dont you write aboutthe Holocaust instead of all of your writings about the shtetl ? He answered simply, I writeabout topics that I know. I know the shtetl; I lived in a shtetl; and that is why I write about theshtetl and the people who lived there. Let Eli Wiesel and those who lived through the Holocaustwrite about that.33Not meaning to be presumptuous by comparing this life story to J.B. Singers works, Ican also say that I write about people, places and conditions that I knew and know, and aboutcircumstances which impacted on my life.The Hes FamilyRather than dwelling on the monstrous deeds perpetrated on innocent victims, amongthem my Hes-family members, I am enclosing in this account pages 212, 213, 252, and 253 fromthe book Die judische Gemeinde Papenburg-Aschendorf im Spiegel der Zeit (The JewishCongregation of Papenburg-Aschendorf as a Mirror of the Time) by Uwe Eissing. This author,similar to Anna Maria Zimmer, the author of Jews in Eschwege, was also a teacher whoresearched and traced the past history of Jews who had lived in their respective towns.There is a major difference between their books -A.M. Zimmers emphasis is on life,especially on present and future generations, whereas U. Eissing provides short chronicles offamilies, grizzly facts of those who were murdered in extermination camps and the gravesites ofthose who had died and were buried in the Papenburg-Aschendorf cemetery.Because my emphasis in this biography has so far been on my forebears, I have someanecdotes ofmy maternal grandfather, Aron Hes, which I want to share.I remember Opa P. (the Papenburger Opa) as one who liked to play tricks on me. Joesaid that I was Opas pet but I think that I was just more gullible and usually fell for his tricks.One day he handed me a basket that Oma used to collect chicken eggs and he told me thatsome chickens apparently had escaped from the chicken coop. Apparently, he said they musthave laid some eggs under the current bushes all along the main path in the backyard. Becausehe could not bend over to pick them up, he told me to look under those bushes and, if I saw anyeggs there, to collect them. Of course, I did. I looked under the first current bush and therewas an egg. I picked it up but it felt funny; it felt so light. The same scenario with the secondand third bush and, lo and behold, I found two more funny eggs. Then I ran into the house totell Opa that I had found three funny eggs but why were they so light? Opa volunteered tocrack.one open and carefully broke the shell of one and, to my surprise, it was empty! I askedhim to crack the other two, which also proved to be empty. He could not explain why there wasnothing inside!Then, after I had been in the backyard swinging for a while, he called me to come in andsaid that Oma had a special surprise for me. When Oma handed me the delicious surprise, Itasted it cautiously, but it was so good that I emptied the glass. What ingredients were in thatdelectable ambrosia? You can guess, I am sure - three eggs beaten light and fluffy with sugar!Who could think of anything tastier than that? (I can hear our children and grandchildren sresponses from Oh, how gross! to No wonder that her arteries got clogged, they got an earlyhead start for building up plaque!Here is one more Opa story: One day he said, There are two men and a boy outsidewaiting for you. I was surprised. Who is it? I dont know any men here and who is the boy?34Opa shrugged his shoulders. Go and see, he said. I went out the front entrance and lookednobodywas there. Look in the backyard, said Opa. Nobody was there either. When I toldOpa that there was nobody in the backyard, he said Look on the other side of the yard and takethat other back door. I looked. What a surprise! Opa had built a big sandbox with boards allaround for me and my playmates to sit on. The sandbox was filled with white sand fromNorderney [see pictorials, Noted Places in Germany in the LTC], the vacation spot where Joe,aunt Liese and I had spent our summer vacation after Mutti s death. (The picture of us, takenthere, is hanging in our Bachrach hallway collage.)At that time the beach on that northern tip of Germany was white and unpolluted, justwonderful for building castles and tunnels. During WWII it was depopulated and used as aproving ground for German weaponry and bombs.But how did Opa bring all this sand to my sandbox? I have no idea. But how about thetwo men and the boy who had asked to see me? They were right there.Opa had built a separate little structure that leaned against one side of the house, hadpropped some sand on it with outlines of two men and a boy - just what he had said. That wasnot all, though. In the sandbox were a pail, some shovels, a rake and all necessary paraphernaliafor building castles and tunnels. (Our children, grandchildren, as well as Joe and Ruth Bachrachand their children and grandchildren can confirm the pleasure I get from digging out tunnels,meeting little hands at the halfway mark and building castles.)Some of our children may remember my anecdote about my reaction when aunt Liesequickly pulled off the shirt Joe was wearing after hours of castle-building, and he yelled out ingreat pain.These two anecdotes above suggest Opas inventive nature. He never seemed to run outof ideas that became fun projects. Whereas I remember him fondly and can picture him clearlywith his tall frame and very blue eyes, I have only a few memories of Oma that are not related tofoods.Oma was much shorter than Opa and was either busy in her big kitchen preparing meals,churning butter, shelling peas and other vegetables grown in their big backyard - all activitiesconfined to their premises. The only time I remember her leaving that house was the timeRenate Hes, lgnatz and Selmas second daughter, finally started walking by herself.Actually, Renate (called Nate and later Ronnie) had taken a few steps by herselfwhen she was very little, but had fallen and was hurt. Afterwards she would not walk by herselfuntil she was at least 2 Yz years old or more. Her family became very concerned about it, so theday she finally did walk by herself, everyone was summoned to come over to see Nate walking.Even Oma came! She applauded - and went right back to her house that was Yz a block awayfrom lgnatz - Selmas home. Aside from this one occasion, I cannot remember seeing heroutside the confines of her house and garden.35When I questioned Joe many years later as to whether he could recall having seen Omaleave the house, he said that he could not recall any specifics, but why was I even asking aboutthis? Did he think that the word agoraphobia might be a term we could use now to explain thatkind of behavior? He seemed perplexed, particularly when I posed the next question, namely,Do you think that Oma suffered from depression? Did I think that? The answer is, Yes, Ido now, and I will give just one anecdote to illustrate her inclination to overreact.Oma, like many other older people, had all sorts of memorabilia, knick-knacks on doilies,and hangings on the walls in that house of theirs. (That house was more like a museum than ahome, and became another victim of the Holocaust, in particular, of the Crystal Night when itwas set on fire and destroyed.)My cousin, Alice Hes Schuster, Nates sister and Ignatz- Selmas eldest of three girlsand two boys, was in Papenburg on the Crystal Night when Oma and Opa s house was burned tothe ground.Maybe just recalling the anecdote about Oma may not be sufficient illustration of anyoverreaction on her part - maybe you had to be a child participant; and a guilty one at that.I clearly remember entering the dining room and seeing this little black shiny objectsitting on a cabinet. I reached for it - it looked like a shiny miniature top hat - and then I didsomething very naughty. I used it as a little football. Oma came into the room and saw me. Shewas furious. (I can hear some of you saying, Id be furious, too. Right, I agree.) She mademe feel like a criminal, though. Not only that, but she promptly reported my misdeed to Papa.He, as only he could, laid down the law to me that I was never again to take anything, anywhere,that did not belong to me. I never did. I learned my lesson.To be fair with Oma, that was the only time she ever rebuked me, but I cannot rememberthat she really talked with me or hugged and kissed me. For that matter, she did not talk muchaltogether, aside from calling family for meals, snacks and giving Sophie directions in helpingwith food preparation. (Sophie had been with my grandparents as a maid from the time Opa andOma vyere married.)Whereas I do not remember Oma demonstrating her affection openly, she, like thestereotypical Jewish mother and grandmother, provided and rewarded me with edible gifts -goodies she knew I liked. Opa, on the other hand, hugged and kissed me when I was little, eventhough I objected because his beard was scratchy.As I look at the little Hes-Rothschild picture now [see AL I, p. 29], I feel all the emotionsthat I have held inside ever since the horrific news and pictures of NAZI atrocities came to light,and particularly after I learned about the fate of many of these family members and so manyothers. Since talking about it was not the answer for me, I thought that writing about it would beeasier. I find that this is not so.So far I have written my life story as a narrative with some quotations and anecdotes, butfor this section, relating to the Hes-Rothschild families, I am changing the format. The reason, in36part, stems from my lack of knowledge of specifics and the only person with whom I couldverify details now is my first cousin, Alice Hes Schuster, who has lived here in South Bend,Indiana with her family since 1946.Alice, miraculously, survived 4Yz years in a slave-labor-concentration camp and was theonly one of her family of those deported who survived. Her mother, Selma Adler Hes, togetherwith Franzelore (in U.E.s text, but Hannelore to family), (called Lolo) and her little brother,Arno, were deported to the Riga ghetto and spent two years there - then Auschwitz.Uwe Eissings book provides the statistics for these and the other Hes and Rothschildmembers. (Copies of data and pertinent information follows in English translation.)Understandably, Alice has only limited knowledge of the period in the ghetto because shewas just eleven years old at the time of deportation. Although she gave me some details after herarrival here in South Bend in 1946, this is her life story to tell or not to tell, as she has chosen.Thus, I am inserting here data which Uwe Eissing gives in his book Die judischeGemeinde Papenburg-Aschendort im Spiegel der Zeit in English translation with somecorrections of items that I had personal knowledge of, i.e. my birth date, the date of my mothersdeath, etc.English Translation of Data from Uwe Eissings text (pages 212, 213, 214, 215, 252, 253, 254):HusbandWifeHes, Aron (born) July 27, 1854 in PapenburgPresident of Jewish Congregation from 1895occupation: leather goods firm (H. I. Hess)+ (died) October 16, 1936 in PapenburgPrag, Mathilde (born) January 20, 1863 in Ankum12+(died) September 15, 1936 in Papenburgoo(married) October 19, 1887 in Ankumhouse: Friederiken-street 12Children o.n. (ohne Namen = without a name)&+ (born & died) September 28, 1888Hes, Flora [Mutti](born) November 22, 1889 in Papenburgoo(married) Moritz Bachrach, M.D. in Eschwege[ missing data in text]+(died) September 27, 1927. Buried in Eschwege.ooMoritz Bachrach remarried Lina Goldschmidt 1931+Moritz died 5/7 /46; buried South Bend, IN+Lina died 1980; buried Manchester, England37Children123 Hes, HerbertJoseph Bachrach (born) February 9, 1918 in Papenburg+( died)December 1998oo(married) Ruth Starer in Toronto, CanadaChildren:Steven and LisaRuth Bachrach (born) August 30, 1921 in Eschwegeoo(married) Maurice Tulchinsky October 22, 1944(born) July 12, 1891 in Papenburg+(died) August 1, 1917 in World War I4 Hes, Paul M.D.(born) November 8, 1894 in Papenburgimmigrated August 20, 1939 to USA via EnglandWife Hes, Sophie (Liese)Concentration CampChildren12Concentration Camp34Concentration Camp(born) August 30, 1896 in Papenburgoo(married) Bernhard Rothschild 1924Committed to a mental care institution (Sayn-Bendorf nearKoblenz) October 23, 19??Deported June 15, 1942 to the East+( died) in lzbica&+(BORN & DIED) July 11, 1927 (oN)Rothschild, Regina (Ina) born December 5, 1928 in PapenburgDeported July 7, 1942 from Hamburg (Papendamm 3)+( died) in Auschwitz&+(born & died) February 22, 1931 (oN)Rothschild, Miriam born August 17, 1933 in Hamburg(?)Deported July 7, 1942 from Hamburg (Papendamm 3)++verschollen (place of death unknown- no data on her)The word verschollen used for soldiers killed and neveraccounted for.Husband Hes, Ignatz(born) December 18, 1900 in PapenburgBookkeeper 1938 (business man-leather goods H.I. Hes)+(died) May 18, 1955 in South Bend, Ind. USAWife Adler, Selma(born) May 12, 1902 in Halberstadtoo(married) November 23, 1926 in HalberstadtDeported December 10, 1941 from Papenburg to Riga ghettoConcentration Camp ++ AuschwitzChildren1Slave Labor CampHes, Alice(born) September 26, 1927 in PapenburgDeported December 10, 1941 from Papenburg to Riga ghettoFound 1946 in Jewish camp DegerlochMay 5, 1946 to USA via S Marine Flascher3823Concentration Camp45Concentration Campoo(married) May 1, 1948 to Boris Schuster in South Bend, Ind.USAHes, Renate(born) July 20, 1930 in Papenburg1938 childrens transport to London, then USAoo(married) April 15, 1963 in Chicago, Ill. To Norman Stone[missing data in text] +(died) 1963 [see Family Tree]Hes, Hannelore (Lolo)(born) February 26, 1935 in Papenburg++ AuschwitzHes, Herbert-* (born) September 8, 1936+(died) December 26, 1936Hes,Amo*(born) January 24, 1938 in Papenburg++ AuschwitzRediscovery is this storys reason for being. Since a childs world is built upon a pastthat one discovers little by little, it normally allows a gradual unveiling of the present and thepast through moments in the present.Speculating about the Hes families, and especially about the children, the same questionhas occurred to me again and again: What might life have held for them? These faces and somany others- be they the children from Terezin, Isieu, Auschwitz, Buchenwald and all theplaces of horror - have haunted me.Thus, in dealing with the Hes family legacy, I felt impelled to show the diametricallyopposed sides of happy faces of childhood and adulthood on one side and the tragic end of illfatedfamily members on the other and let the pictures [see AL I,pgs. 30, 35, 36] and statistics[above] speak for themselves.They Fought BackI concluded the section on my ill-fated Hes-Rothschild family members with the epitaphthat their names, faces and fate be remembered and this was my memorial to them. This was onemore reason for writing my life story.Linked to that memorial is another reason for writing my story: THE TRUTH MUSTCOME OUT AND MUST BE TOLD.That means exposing lies, combating myths and misrepresentations. One of many falsemyths that has often appeared in print concerns the passivity of Jews during the Holocaust andthe assertion that they walked into gas chambers like sheep to the slaughter, never offering anyresistance.39They Fought Back [text in STC], edited by Yuri Suhl (whom Mauri and I had met andspoken with when he came on a promotional tour for the book to South Bend), exposes thefallacy of that assertion. The book provides ample support for the false allegation that Jews havetended to be passive and only offered minimal resistance to their oppressors. One only needs tocheck the Table of Contents, the pictures, the Index pages and Notes from pp. 312-316 which list56 concentration camps, groups, names, all attesting to partisan groups, and individuals like theChief Physician Remba and Mordecai Anielewicz and so many others.Jud Newborns presentation Lions of Judah-The Untold Story of Jewish anti-NAZIResistance [see Eli Wiesel article, Supplementary Material] makes the same point in speakingabout the active resistance in ghettoes, slave labor camps and death camps during World War II.He also referred to the Warsaw Ghetto revolt in 1943 and the destruction of an Auschwitzcrematorium in 1944. He said of those individuals who met their fate silently and did not offera way to escape the flames found a way to walk through them. The vast majority had nocontrol over their fate but the thought of being eliminated from memory was even morehorrifying and that evil to that degree should never be forgotten. [See article from South BendTribune, April 20, 2001 on next page.]The Holocaust MuseumThis may be the time to refer back also to the introduction to my life story and to thequestion Why am I writing my life story at 78 years (by now 79) of age? Here may be part ofan answer:I have never really talked much - even to those dearest to me: my husband, children andgrandchildren - about the impact the NAZI period, and especially the Holocaust, had on me. Iprobably never will, except for this written account.What I do want to share with you is the experience I had when visiting the HolocaustMuseum in Washington, D.C. in 1995 when Mauri and I attended a NAMI (National Alliance forthe Mentally Ill) convention. Mauri, Judith and Gregs presence was a comfort to me. Our visitto the Holocaust Museum was a turning point for me comparable in some way to the Reunion inEschwege. Both experiences brought on an emotional response unlike any other.Although similar in some respects, they also were quite different in others. The reunionhelped me to face some personal, social and political unresolved issues; the Holocaust Museumreawakened old pain and guilt feelings.Earlier in this story I addressed the Why was I spared? question, but another one thathas troubled me also is Why did I not participate more actively in events commemorating theHolocaust? Others who were fortunate enough, as I was, to get out in time have spoken outtime and again to remember, to warn present and new generations of the danger of fascism andof any government gaining and exercising absolute power. Many of the survivors of theHolocaust have felt impelled to bear witness to the horrors of genocide and mass murder.40My cousin, Alice Hes Schuster, a true Holocaust survivor, has dealt with the past inanother way. She once told me, Each ofus deals with pain, loss and grief in our own way. Ihave always agreed with the contention that no one can set a time limit on grieving nor impose astandard for the right way to express suffering.Once inside the Holocaust Museum, I almost felt as ifl had personally lived through theconcentration camp experience; one area was particularly shocking - the room where walls allaround, reaching upward for three floors were covered with pictures of men, women, boys andgirls, old people and infants. The family scenes cried out to me. All had been part of acommunity and all had perished. Some of these images blurred with my minds picture of theHes-Rothschild families.Jarring as those pictures were, the display of a big heap of shoes shocked me equally.Had other visitors stood frozen, looking at that display case containing all sizes of shoes fromtoddlers to giant-like feet? Had they, too, questioned, Who had filled all those shoes once?The adjoining display case held me riveted as I sighted a single pair of a little girls shoes in abig display case. Just one pair in a big case. Could Lolo have worn them? How many othervisitors who had passed here before and after me also had wondered if their Lolo might haveworn them?Terry- a high school Social Studies teacher-visited the Holocaust Museum this yearwith a colleague and when I asked him several days later about his experience he just said, I felttotally drained. I did, too. And we spent only three hours there.The Holocaust Museum was an unforgettable experience for many reasons. Although aterrible reminder of past horrors, it also brought good memories and reconnected me with lovedones I had not seen for many years. It reminded me of patterns of behavior amongst my familymembers. I remembered my aunt Selma Adler Hes, wife of Ignatz Hes, and mother of Alice,Renate, Lolo, Herbert and Arno, the woman who chose to remain with the two youngest childrentill the end.In earlier times I had watched her with fascination as she turned out the best delicacieswith professional skill. She was a superb baker who had benefited by watching and helpingexperts prepare delectables in her parents bakery. Once I saw her fill and frost a torte withwonder. In no time, she put the filling on the bottom layer of the cake, took the second layerbalanced on her left forearm, applied another layer of filling and turned the third layer from herleft palm, finishing it all with frosting piped on top and sides. It was a masterpiece that tasted aswonderful as it looked.Aside from her culinary accomplishments, she played another role in the family. I heardaunt Liese (Rothschild) refer to aunt Selma as the family peace-maker, counselor and consolerwith a ready shoulder to cry on.One day aunt Liese had scolded aunt Gerda (wife of Dr. Paul Hes) for complaining toomuch and criticizing her husband, instead of appreciating and supporting him adequately. Gerdaleft in tears. Lieses only comment was everyone comes to Selma for comfort.42Selma was not only a comforter to others but also a source of encouragement to herhusband, Ignatz Hes. Her warm and optimistic disposition helped to see him through periods ofdepression and inactivity.Here again I seemingly provide a diagnosis based on insufficient evidence. Did Omareally suffer from depression? And again, did Ignatz have periods of depression? There is nodoubt in my mind that both did. In the 1930s, and even in the 1950s, the state of sound andunsound mental health was neither acknowledged nor written about, let alone diagnosed ortreated. Instead, Oma was said to be a stay-at-home or just not a talker.A Stay-at-Home?A stay-at-home? Is that why she did not- or could not- attend Muttis funeral? Iremember both of my Opas were there, and so were lgnatz, his brother Paul and sister Sophie(Liese).Years later, when I learned more about mental illnesses and chemical imbalance in braindisorders, I recognized some tell-tale signs in uncle lgnatz.Uwe Eissings short entry on lgnatz Hes states (on p. 254) that lgnatz Hes remarried onthe 9th of March, 1953 in South Bend. I:Ie died May 19, 1955 in St. Joseph Hospital resultingfrom an overdose of sleeping pills. Was this tragic fact his final act of depression?There is one other reference to another ill-fated member of the Hes family that U.E. gives(p. 252) on Muttis sister Liese. He gives the bare facts that she married Bernhard Rothschild(Ehefrau) that she was committed to a mental institution (Heil- und Phlegeanstalt Sayn Bendorf,near Koblenz, sent to the East and died in lzbica, the 15th of June 1942.It is a well-documented fact that persons with mental illness, gypsies, people with mentalretardation, political activists and Communists were the first victims of NAZI murders.I refer back to my cousin Alice who confirmed that aunt Liese had serious psychologicalproblems. She said that her mother, Selma Hes, had told Alice that Liese had a complete mentalbreakdown and was sent to an asylum.Whereas I found Uwe Eissings book well documented for the most part, andcorresponding with my family trees plus information gathered previously, I take exception withsome parts of the following excerpt:He cites Albert M. SCH., Gelsenkirchen 1987, period 1914-1918.I know that the rich Hes family in the Friederikenstrasse had a son whowas in WWI Before WWI Jews could not become officers but thatchanged during the war. I remember Herbert Hes, son of Aron Hes whobecame an officer. Naturally his parents were very proud of his becomingan officer in the royal army. I remember when Herbert Hes came for a43visit to Papenburg. He was a tall man in uniform. I remember especiallyhis sabre. Unfortunately Herbert Hes, the pride of his parents, did notreturn from the war.I disagree with the reference to Herbert Hes as an officer of the royal army. As I stated inthe beginning ofmy life story, the officer in uniform with the sabre at his side (which he onlywore for dress occasions, not in battle), was Aaron and Mathilde Hess son-in-law my father- who had come to Papenburg on his first furlough in 1916 when he and Flora Hes - my mother-were married. (The picture of Papa in uniform hangs in the Bachrach collage in our hallway.)He spent a second furlough in Papenburg in 1917 and, also as stated in my introduction, on histhird furlough he came to Papenburg to deliver their first child-my brother, Joseph Bachrach.The last sentence of the quotation above from Uwe Eissings entry concerning HerbertHess death in 1917 is correct. My father had talked about Herbert who served in the army andwas killed within less than six months of service.Although the Hes family name did not continue, all of the surviving daughters ultimatelysettled in the United States, married, had children and grandchildren. Alice and Boris Schuster,their second son, Brian and family lived in South Bend, the other two, Dan and David Schusterand respective families, though living out of town, have kept close contact with each other andtheir parents. Alices sister Renate and husband, Norman Stone, had two children, Cary andPamela. Pam developed the Hes Family Tree and has updated it. This story will come back tothe next generations at a later time.Family Contributions to Life StoriesSeveral of our children and grandchildren have questioned me from time to time aboutthe progress of my Life Story, and when I told them that so far I had not left Germany yet, theyseemed baffled. How long would my life story be since so far I had hardly mentioned myhusband, our four children and respective spouses, nor our five grandchildren? So, as a retiredteacher, I saw an assignment in the making here.I asked- suggested-urged, Why dont you write something about yourself that youconsider worth contributing to this life story? Some of them responded and presented me onmy birthday with their contributions, which reveal their unique qualities and styles. I hope thatothers will add to this collection which from now on will become the TULCHINSKY -BACHRACH-HES FAMILY LIFE STORIES.44Family Contributions..• by Mark TulchinskyOne of Mark Twains most quoted anecdotes is the one where he claims that he left homeat the age of sixteen thinking his parents were the most ignorant and backward people alive.Five years later he returned home, having struggled while living on his own, amazed by howmuch smarter his parents had become during his absence.Like Twain, I have become more impressed, even humbled, by the intelligence andstrength embodied by Mom and Dad. Since this is written on the occasion of Moms nearmilestone, let me reflect a moment on a pivotal incident in our relationship.My adolescence was a difficult time for me and in my relationship with Mom. Freudianrevisionism aside, my mid-teens were marked by frequent extended periods of silence whichusually followed some struggle - real or imagined - for personal independence.The nadir of that on-going discontent occurred during the weeks leading up to andincluding brother Jeffs Bar Mitzvah. The gods chose to play a mean trick on Jeff; his BarMitzvah coincided with a Little League All Star tournament.Jeff was a superstar. I lived vicariously, if silently, through his accomplishments. Hismaking the All Star team was a bigger deal for me than it might have been for him.Therein lay the seeds of conflict. Mom insisted that the Bar Mitzvah and all its familycommitments would take precedence over All Star baseball. I fought for making concessions -sure he should do his Bar Mitzvah. He had learned a far larger portion of the Sabbath servicethan I had and knew it well. But what was so bad about him going to play in the game during theafternoon?Mom was steadfast. There would be no baseball, and there was no need for furtherdiscussion.The battle of wills escalated. The tension was palpable as Bar Mitzvah Saturdayapproached. The Friday before, it culminated in an ugly shouting match between Mom and me.Enraged, I grabbed the keys to the car (the only set to the only car my parents owned) and flungthem as far as I could across the front yard. The keys disappeared into a large bush in the frontyard of our neighbors across the street.Wordlessly, Mom turned and walked back into the house. The rest of the family who hadcome to watch our confrontation proceeded inside behind her. My eyes followed the path of thekeys or at least as far as the bush, then looked around for some sympathetic support. None wasto be found.45With nowhere else to go, I walked to the car, found the doors unlocked, and ploppedmyself inside.The Gulag was no more inhospitable an environment than was that Oldsmobile over thenext twelve hours. I spent dinnertime inside the car. I spent the evening in the car. One by one Isaw lights inside the house turned off and realized I was spending the night in the car as well.Morning came, family gathered at the house, everyone dressed befitting the occasion.The youngest son was off to become a man while the eldest son was encamped in thedirectionless family auto. Not one word had passed between any family member and me sincethe keys had taken flight.Seeing the family drive off in cars belonging to relatives began to erase my resolve.Obviously, Mom was serious about Jeffs familial commitment being more important thananything else-maybe even including my continued role in the family.A sense of urgency to rectify the situation eliminated any remaining resolve. I got out ofthe car, and dashed across the street to the bush. Providentially, the keys were found in minutes.I ran into the house, showered, shaved, and dressed for schul.When I arrived at the synagogue, I peeked into the sanctuary to find that the prayers werestill in an early stage. Brother Jeff had not yet been called to the bima, which meant that thepreliminary honorees, like me, hadnt been called either. Since the women were seated in thebalcony of the old synagogue, I haltingly ventured up there to make my presence known.Trepidation gripped every step-I really wasnt sure what kind ofreception I would get. By thetime I got to the balcony, I was sweating as if I was reliving my Bar Mitzvah. Mom wasnowhere to be seen.Someone mentioned that she might be in the little kitchen area making final arrangementsfor the immediate post-ceremony reception. I trekked down there.I walked in. Moms back was to the doorway, she was arranging her home-bakeddelicacies with the loving attention to detail that marked most of her efforts. I think I cleared mythroat, words being nearly impossible for my mouth to form. She turned her head almostimperceptibly, at least enough to see me. Im glad you made it.In that simple moment, I think Mom made more of an impact in my formation as an adultthan at any other time. While we still had moments where we defined our relationship, Momsforgiving steadfastness shone as a model of human conduct to be emulated.A postscript: Jeff was magnificent in his leading of the service. The outcome of thegame has long since been forgotten.46••• by Nan TulchinskyVACATIONSOn August 17, 1940, in Jackson, Michigan, Joseph David Tomshack married ClareMcDermott. They were given a house at 2326 West Morrell Street. That became the Tomshackfamily home. On September 9, 1942, I - named Mary Anne Lauretta - was born. Family loretells that Poppa sat on Moms hospital bed that night and planned that when the time came, Iwould go to St. Marys College in South Bend, Indiana. Those were big dreams for this youngcouple. The family grew to seven children and Mom and Pop worked very hard to afford thenecessities of their family. We always had enough to eat and especially to drink as children of amilkman.We could not afford to travel and stay in motels and eat out, so the family decided to trycamping out for a vacation in Northern Michigan. A tent was borrowed, sleeping bags wereborrowed and the station wagon was packed with all the clothes and food supplies for a week.The children were next: Jack, Nan, Mary Fran, Bill, Win, James and baby Maureen Grace.There hadnt been rain for weeks and it was hot and dry at Houghton Lake, Michigan.We all behaved beautifully as we were expected older kids helpful with the younger kids. Wearrived and Jack and Poppa unpacked while Mary Fran and I played with the younger kids.Mom then fixed dinner while Poppa walked us all to the lake edge to scout out our surroundings.We returned and had dinner, then it was time to pitch the tent and make ready for bed. Poppa gotthe tent up for some of us to sleep in. The rest of us would sleep in the back of the stationwagon. Finally all was ready; it was dark and everyone was tucked in for the night.Near midnight we heard thunder in the distance. It woke Mom and Poppa. Soon it waslouder and eventually it poured rain. Being novices at camping we were not prepared for arainstorm. Poppa put the tent at the bottom of a hill. The rain poured into the tent, soakingeverything and everybody. No one in the tent slept the rest of that night. At dawn we were allup, tired, wet and so we quickly packed up and went to a very small cabin to dry off, changeclothes and put our wet items on a line to dry. We packed the nine of us into the small cabin atnight and extended the vacation by a few more days.Mom and Poppa said that there would never be another camping vacation - and therewasnt - but there was one more family vacation. Mom wanted to take us all to Canada to thecloistered girls high school that she had attended in Grand Mere. I need to tell you that Momwas sent there to high school because her parents were upset that she was starting to date thefootball coach at her high school (St. Johns of Jackson) and they felt separation was the answerto the problem. Of course the football coach was Joe Tomshack - my Dad! Needless to say,separation didnt work and they dated when she returned from Canada.So, once again the station wagon was packed and we headed for Canada. It was awonderfully educational trip for all ofus. We heard our mother converse in French when wearrived in the French-speaking communities in Canada. We visited the nuns that had taught ourmother. These nuns had never left the convent once they took religious vows. The windows47were glazed so that they were not distracted by the outside world as they prayed. We laughedwhen one very old nun asked ifwe came in a motor car. She had never seen one. We traveledalong the St. Lawrence River and smelled the sulfur from the log piles waiting to be cut forlumber at the lumber camps. This was a very good vacation for all of us.All of this is an introduction to my contribution to this book. Mark and I always enjoyedtaking small vacations with our kids and Grandma Ruth and Grandpa Moishe. We learned earlythat the coffee was never hot enough and neither was the water for tea. They were always fun totravel and sightsee with. So, as a family we decided to rent a house at Hilton Head, SouthCarolina for a week. Judy was still in college so she was the only Tulchinsky not going. Weinvited my youngest sister, Maureen, to tag along. Missy wasnt born yet, so we numberedtwelve people. We drove two vehicles to get there. The house we rented was just great and big.It had a cul-de-sac at the driveway, not far from the beach- just perfect.On the first day I experienced a real crisis. We were all walking to the beach. Sarah,Daniel and Peter walked with Maureen ahead of us to see the beach. They spread towels andwere walking on the beach when Daniel wandered way ahead. I got to the beach and askedwhere Daniel was. Everyone pointed and to my terrible fear he was just a dot against the sand.He had wandered so far away. I took off running down the beach, fearful that he might go intothe water. I ran and called his name. I ran faster and called louder. He was in his own world,jogging down the shore making pretend jump shots as he went. I called, I ran, I ran and called.He couldnt hear me because the ocean waves were so loud. I finally caught up with him and Icouldnt be mad, just thankful that I had finally caught up with him. He had no idea howworried I was, but you know he never left my side the rest of the vacation. With that crisis over,I settled down and had a wonderful vacation.Jill, Grandma Ruth and I would get breakfast ready for everyone, then clean up thekitchen and then we would all - Grandma and Grandpa included - go out to the cul-de-sac andplay whiffle ball. It was so much fun. Everyone was a great sport and when lunch time rolledaround, we made plans to play again the next day, and the next, etc. We ate at unique restaurantsfor dinner each night. The kids had a great time at Bennihanas as the cook entertained themwith jokes and cutting food with very sharp knives right at our table. Shrimp was plentiful andwe Midwesterners were delighted. Daniel lost his front tooth in an ice cream cone at HarborTown. We rode bikes, some played golf, some enjoyed lots of beach time, but the best part ofthe trip was the wonderful family spirit and cooperation and joy that we all experienced.DANNY BOYEvery mother must remember every detail of the day each of her babies was born. Thisstory is about when Daniel was born. Our family doctor was Dr. Roland Chamblee. He haddelivered Peter and Sarah and so I expected that he would also be my doctor with the new baby.When I visited his office he told me that his wife had given him no choice - no more maternitycases.48I was pretty devastated, but he suggested a doctor for me and I made an appointment tosee the new doctor. We didnt hit it off very well. I told him I was vomiting six to eight times aday and was teaching every day. He told me I shouldnt fuss, that some women are so sick theycant pick their heads up off their pillow. I left upset, but trying to hang in there. I went for thenext month check-up-pretty much the same negative vibes. I went to Dr. Chamblee in tearstelling him it wasnt going well. He said he would talk to his wife, but made no promises.As I had used castor oil to start labor with both Peter and Sarah, I promised him we couldset the time of the babys birth so the doctor wouldnt have to be up at night. He called the nextday to tell me that his wife had given her approval. So, the pregnancy went on and as we drewclose to the due day I was going to the office once a week. When Dr. Chamblee decided thebaby and I were ready, he told me to go buy castor oil and start drinking it at 5:00. I mixed itwith orange juice and would drink the mix, then swallow some Hershey bar, then back to themix. About 7:00 Peter and I went for a long walk on South Bend Avenue.It worked; contractions started. They were five minutes apart when I told Mark we bettercall Dr. Chamblee and let him know we were heading to the hospital. A complicationdeveloped, Dr. Chamblees line was busy. Mark called the operator and told her, My wife is inlabor and this is our doctor. She interrupted Dr. Chamblees call and Mark told him we were onour way to the hospital.We called Maureen (my youngest sister and a senior at St. Marys college) and told herwe needed her to come and stay with Peter and Sarah. She arrived, we left, and as Mark turnedat the corner of Michigan Street and LaSalle, I stuck my head out of the window and vomited myinsides out (as I had done soooooo often during this pregnancy). We got to the hospital and Itook myself up to the maternity floor while Mark checked me in. By the time Mark got to thedelivery room, Daniel was born. Dr. Chamblee let him hang around and see what goes on indelivery.I got Dr. Chamblee home before bedtime and Mark went home to tell Peter that he had anew brother. Then Mark told Peter that Daniel was shooting baskets in the hospital, so Peterfigured I should just come home then! Maureen was pretty pleased with her contribution to thisblessed event, so she went to one of the college students favorite bars. There she saw Dr.Chamblees oldest son and Maureen went right up to him and announced, Your dad justdelivered a new nephew to me. Her news was well accepted throughout the bar. The next dayMaureen came to see Daniel and took a picture of him in the nursery. Next to come and see himwas Uncle Jeff. He walked in singing one of my favorite songs, Danny Boy. I loved it. Andthat was the day Daniel Joseph Tulchinsky was born.49WORDS OF WISDOMAs a young, idealistic mother I worked with our children to express themselvesappropriately. Mark and I would correct them if they didnt use the proper pronunciation or thecorrect tense when they spoke. We had frequently told them that there were lots of words thatpeople use that we would not want them to use. When we heard not nice words we talkedabout words that would have been appropriate. If Grandpa would use one of those not nicewords, Peter would tell Grandpa not to use those words around kids.Shortly after Daniel was born I was outside with Sarah and the little neighbor girl, Lisa,was nearby. Sarah and I heard Lisa yell Shit! Sarah looked at me expecting the sky to fall in.I had to make a point. I went into a long, long diatribe about good words and not nicewords. I used my hands to scold that kind of talk. I rolled my eyes in disapproval. I acted veryshocked and disappointed.A few days after this incident I was folding diapers with Daniel close by and heard Peterand Sarah heavily into a discussion. I listened in while they discussed bad words. I said thatwe just dont use bad words in our family, so Peter asked, Is dumb a bad word? I told him,No, but it isnt a nice word. He asked, Is stupid a bad word? Again I responded, No, butit isnt a nice word. Finally Sarah broke in and said, Peter, her no mean those words, her meanshit! Obviously Sarah had understood my ranting about what was or wasnt acceptable. Sincethat incident, when there is a question about a word, one of us is frequen
Origin:	ca. 2016
Created By:	Tulchinsky, Ruth Friedel Bachrach
Source:	http://michianamemory.sjcpl.org/cdm/ref/collection/p16827coll4/id/2896
Collection:	Civil Rights and African American History
Copyright:	This work is under copyright and posted through the kind permission of the Tulchinsky family. It is posted publicly for non-profit educational uses, excluding printed publication. For copyright information, contact local.history@sjcpl.org.
Subjects:	Tulchinsky, Ruth, 1921-2016 Tulchinsky, Maurice M., 1912-2001 German Americans--Indiana South Bend (Ind.)--Race relations United States--Emigration and Immigration--History--20th Century Jews--Indiana--History

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