Conference turris::womannotes-v3

575.0. "Our Ances(tors'/tress') Stories" by NEMAIL::KALIKOWD (ThatsNotPROBLEMsThatsLIFE!) Sun Dec 09 1990 21:55

My younger daughter Mandy just took up a college major of Russian and Slavic 
studies, and she got to thinking about her great-great-aunt Eva, who was the 
last of that part of our family to emigrate to this country (around 1920) from 
that area.  She's also the last of her generation still alive...  And she's 
still a delightful, witty, loving woman who revels in her r�le as Family 
Matriarch, as we revel in her...

Mandy recalled chatting with her at a recent Family Reunion, and having Aunt 
Eva tell her that her hearing was slightly damaged from her having been too 
close to cannon fire in the Russian Revolution!  Mandy is planning to have 
another talk with Aunt Eva, to learn more about this era.  She's arranging for 
a visit during the Holiday Break, but while doing so, she found out that some 
years ago, Aunt Eva wrote down a partial memoir covering her childhood and 
emigration.  It's not complete, but it makes gripping and moving reading.  
It's a good starting place for the historical questions Mandy will be asking.

I thought it might be worthwhile to share it with the =wn= community.  It's a 
good "everyday person's perspective" on some of the most earthshaking events 
of the century, and its simplicity and perseverance are impressive...  not to 
say my Aunt Eva's experiences are in any way unique...  just that her story is 
wonderful to read.

BTW, Eva's direct descendants (her oldest Great-Grandchild is now about 6) 
include a high-school administrator, an investment banker, a college 
professor, and a doctor...  So that branch of the family has done well in the 
good ol' U.S.of-A...  One of the sisters Eva refers to in her memoir is my 
late Bubbeh (Grandma), also a helluva survivor and a businesswoman of wise 
head and generous heart.

Others in this community want to share stories of their "roots?"  There's lots 
of lessons in there for us, I'm sure...

Cheers,
Dan Kalikow

But! :-) before we begin, a brief humorous note -- one of my favorite Woody 
Allen quotes from his essay "A Brief, yet Helpful, Guide to Civil 
Disobedience" in his "Without Feathers" anthology:

	"Some famous examples of revolutions are: ... The RUSSIAN REVOLUTION,
	which simmered for years and suddenly erupted when the serfs finally
	realized that the Czar and the Tsar were the same person."

And now I return you to real life, in the person of my Great-Aunt Eva, now 
about 84 years old...

===========
                            SOME OF MY RECOLLECTIONS

	By the end of 1914 when the First World War was on, I was eight years 
old.  The Germans were approaching our city.  The name of the city was Dvinsk, 
Lithuania.

	There were many wounded soldiers brought into the city, Churches and 
Synagogues were taken over for hospitals.  My mother used to take me with her 
to visit the wounded ones.  She would bring them candy and cigarettes.  Some 
of them used to hug and kiss me and say that they too have little girls my 
age.  My mother would cry on the way home.

	One night, the Germans were dropping bombs in different parts of our 
city.  One of the bombs exploded near our home.  My parents, my twelve year 
old brother and I were huddled together for the night.  When morning came, we 
were compelled to leave our home as all civilians had to leave.  My father 
locked the doors, put the keys in his pocket and we left.

	We were allowed to take very few of our belongings as were were 
traveling in crowded freight trains.  Our destination was Ossa on the Kama 
River.  The state was Perm on the border of Siberia.  The Kama connects with 
the Volga River.  It took us two weeks to get there.

	My father was a Rabbi so he got a position in a synagogue.  I went to 
school.  For a long time everything was strange to me.  I was lonesome for 
hime.  My father was a wonderful person.  He felt my loneliness and when he 
had to go to Kazan, a nearby city, to meet with other Rabbis, he would take me 
with him.  We used to go by boat on the Volga.  I loved to walk on the deck 
holding my father's hand, he answering my questions and sometimes quoting 
passages from the Bible to me.  We would watch the sun set, listening to the 
splashing of the water from the river. 

	In 1916, my father took very ill.  After a few months, he died.  
I loved my father very much.  I missed him more than I can express.

	In February, 1917, the revolution took place and Czarism ended.  This 
was not the first time that attempts were made to overthrow the Czar.  The 
teachings of Karl Marx go back seventy years.  In 1905 there was a try but the 
revolution failed.  This time they succeeded because most of the army were 
organized and on the Bolshevist side.  The Bolshevists took over.  Lenin was 
in power.

	There was fighting between the White Army and the Red Army, in Ossa.  
We got separated from my brother during this time of chaos.  We never heard 
from him again, although we always tried to find him.  Mother and I were left 
alone.

	In 1918 we were told that we cold return home.  We left Perm in 
January.  When we arrived in Moscow we were informed that we had to wait for 
transportation.  We spent several weeks waiting.  The railroad stations were 
overcrowded with hundreds of people waiting.  We slept on the floor.  When 
morning came we went to stand in line for our quota of bread for the day, 
which was not very much.  There was an epidemic of typhoid in Moscow that 
winter.  My mother took sick.  I was so very frightened that she too was going 
to die.  From my father I had learned to pray, and I did pray to God with all 
my heart.  When Mother got well I felt so good inside that I never felt hungry 
or cold again.

	There were a group of young people.  We used to walk for miles from 
the station to Red Square to see points of interest.  The cathedrals in Moscow 
are magnificent.  The outside was left the same except the crosses were 
removed.  The insides were museums or used for meeting places.  I came from a 
religious family and learned the teachings of the Bible and to pray when I was 
very young.  When I watched the children on the streets of Moscow I felt so 
very sorry for them because they would grow up without a religion and for 
older people who would not be allowed to go to a church or a synagogue to 
pray.

	One night our group decided to hire a troika.  (That means three 
horses pulling one sled.)  The man put a fur blanket over us.  I felt warm and 
happy.  The night was so very bright that we could see each other's faces.  
The white snow all around us, the horses, the bells ringing on their necks, it 
was like magic in the air.

	When we came to the city, we went to see a ballet.  The performance 
was Swan Lake.  It was so very beautiful and so very sad.  It is still my 
favorite one.  We stood all through the performance but we did not mind it.  

	After a few weeks of waiting we left for home.

	When we arrived in our city and got off the train, it was a cold windy 
morning.  There was no railroad station, just a deserted street.  Mother and I 
walked to look for someone.  When we met a worker from the railroad we asked 
what happened.  He told us that the railroad station was destroyed and the 
part of the city where our home was, was bombed, and fenced off so no one 
could go near it.  How can I express the misery I felt.  When one dreams for 
years of coming home and finds that there is no more home.  I walked about and 
retraced my steps, the streets I walked in my childhood.  When I raised my 
eyes I saw walls with cracks in them all frozen looking like glittering 
candles.  I felt as if I was walking in a gost town.  After a few days we left 
our city for good.

	We heard that an uncle of mine was in a nearby small town.  The name 
of the city was Punemaneck.  We did find him.  He was old and poor.  I found a 
job teaching Russian.  The group of students were middle-aged illiterates.  
I helped them write their letters and read the newspaper.  Mother used to walk 
to nearby farms to buy eggs or anything she could carry and sell for a small 
profit.  We were the lucky ones and the envy of many people.  

	I had a brother and sisters in this country.  They immigrated many 
years before.  They sent us the necessary papers and tickets.  We got our 
visas and left for America.

	When Mother and I got to the station almost everyone from the town, 
young and old, were there to say goodbye to us.  They were happy to see us 
leave for the United States, but they knew they would miss us and that we 
would miss them.  My close friends rode to the next station with us and were 
going to walk back to town.  We were given gifts and a bag full of letters to 
deliver.  It made no difference if they went to California or New York as long 
as it was in America.  We went by train to Libava, Latvia.  From there our 
ship left for the three-week journey.

	When our ship was approaching shore and we could see the Statue of 
Liberty standing there so proudly to receive us, we cried for joy.  Our only 
sadness was that my father and brother were not with us.  From the time I set 
foot in this wonderful country, I fell in love with it and I shall love it all 
my life.  I thank God for the privilege he gave me to come to this beautiful 
country, and that my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were 
born here and are having all the freedom and opportunities that no other 
country in the world has given to its people.

	Because I know the horrors of war, I pray for peace in this world.

    Reading is nice .... but
    
    A nice idea is to have that person chat with an interested party and
    have a tape recorder going.  Many times a person will go into more
    vivid detail if they don't have to laboriously write everything
    down.
    
    Plus there is the added advantage of having that person's voice on tape
    for the family to have in later years when that older person is no
    longer there.
    
    Did this with my father who was a barnstormer from 1914 - 1942 before
    he retired.
    
    Cathy

    My son did an interview to a Jew survivor from Germany, he had to write
    a paper on the holocaust and did just that, took a rape recorder and
    taped the whole conversation... the lady who was interviewed was 9 when
    she arrived to the U.S., now is about seventy, has many grand-children,
    and... she did something wonderful, she showed to my son the dress that
    she wore when she arrived to NYC at 9 years old!, she showed him a
    picture of her, with the dress, and then see the real dres, sixty years
    later... it was something! It was a great interview!
    

    Re:2.. What is a rape recorder???????
    
    REK
    
    :-}

    My APOLOGIES... it is esay to make this type of typo... I meant "tape"
    recorder, not rape recorder... anybody who types knows quite well
    that the "R" is right next to the "T"... (it is amazing what a little
    typo can do) so, Sorry Folks, "Tape Recorder" is!