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Vienna, 22 February 1940
My dear, dear children!
In letter #17 I made the boring daily life responsible for missing the Clipper airplane. Then I missed it because the events were going on and on. You must believe me that I just didn’t get around to it.
On the 18th, I was going to continue my epistle from the day before and decided to create a cozy atmosphere first. I had to use an armchair, an old sofa cushion, a couple of coat racks, and a few shoe stretchers for both men and women. It didn’t exactly get warm – the coal deliverer had left us hanging. But Papa decided that I would be a pyromaniac. While I was trying to have a little talk with our oven, trying to explain that a reasonable oven would realize there was no coal there, but it could eat something else. Our oven did not listen to reason. It made noise. The house manager said that the pipes had burst because of the Siberian cold, so we had no water in the kitchen. That wasn’t so bad, we at least could use the phone and bathroom. Jo came over the next day as usual. Since I was just getting dressed, she told me with Schadenfreude that “the pipes are broken, you may not use the toilet or bathroom.” She said that and just disappeared. Papa played “John Gabriel Borkman” and ran as that guy did with his hands on his back and I tried to let out my feelings. Then I felt a little better. What about the empty rooms? Maybe I could make them into a telephone booth. Well, no sooner said than done, Papa gave up his Ibsen role and we decided not to worry about it anymore and then everything was okay. I heard some steps in the hallway. It was the neighbor mopping the stairway. “When do you think the pipes will be taken care of?” He replied: “Well, I haven’t heard anything about that.” “But you told my friend” “No” - I just had her tell you that you shouldn’t throw anything in the pipes because it would fly into the faces of the workers who are working on the break.” Jo is only alive because she hasn’t shown her face for a couple of days.
Hurray! Papa has brought me letters from Eva Maria Lowell from January 18, which Lizette gave us on the 16th of this month and in the accompanying letter she again informs us that our thing is “coming along.” I believe our matter is just sitting there. Papa went to the Consulate today so they wouldn’t forget who he is. Again, they told him that we can only get the passports from here if we leave the continent. Maybe the longing of our relatives is so great that they will take care of it for us. So we just sit around and wait. Eva probably has received notice of the 1st clipper letter so it seems like since that should have happened by now, we should be able to get a report soon. You can probably tell how anxious I am to get this. … And Harry-Bubi? Why is he being so silent? Has Pegasus lost a hoof? Famous …figures were made into badges as part of a winter charity collection. They are quite charming and you will enjoy them when I get a chance to send them to you. There will also be a collection of Viennese porcelain figures which represent Viennese types. My box of tricks has quite a few different things which will remind you a great deal of Vienna.
Many, many kisses,
Mutti
This letter was written a year earlier than those we have seen the past few days. Helene’s children have been in San Francisco for about four months and she and Vitali are hoping to follow shortly. We learn from this that their attempts to emigrate went on for well over a year, with Vitali haunting the Turkish and American consulates hoping for assistance. Helene calls her daughter Eva by her full name, because to Helene her name is foreign and unknown – as if her daughter has become a new person in America. Eva and Harry were advised by their relatives in San Francisco to change their last name to something “less Jewish.” They chose the name “Lowell,” probably because it was similar to Helene’s maiden name Löwy.
Jo was a neighbor and I believe Lizette may have been Vitali’s sister or niece in Istanbul.
John Gabriel Borkman was written by Ibsen in 1896. The Irish Theatre Institute summarizes the play as follows: “disgraced and destitute after a financial scandal and jail, the former director of the bank paces out each day, alone in an upstairs room, planning his comeback. Downstairs his wife Gunhild lives a parallel life, plotting for their son to restore the family’s reputation. The claustrophobia of their lives is shattered once and for all…” The play’s description certainly paints a vivid picture of how Helene and Vitali felt on these cold, uncertain days.
I continue to be amazed at how Helene’s letters from long ago resonate with the times we live in. In the past week, much of the world has been covered in snow, large parts of Texas have been without power and/or water. Much like Helene’s Vienna of February 1940, where they are trying unsuccessfully to burn furniture for heat because no coal was available. An article from the January 26, 2018 issue of the Guardian said that “January 1940 was the coldest month on record for almost 50 years.”
I understand some of Helene’s disorientation at her children's new American last name. It used to be that the main identifying question to make sure you were the person who owned your bank or other account was your mother’s maiden name. For most people, that question is straightforward and they can answer immediately. For me, it was always a head scratcher. My mother had two different maiden names and I would always pause and hope to guess correctly. It made me feel suspect as I tried to answer such a simple question. I wonder how much of that sense of hiding and being suspicious attached to my mother’s everyday existence as she masqueraded under this new last name before she was married.