Helene, Vitali, Eva and Harry seemed to have had a lovely time in Vienna before life became difficult and dangerous. They enjoyed music, both in public and at home - Helene’s nephew Paul Zerzawy was a talented musician (which allowed him to pay the rent when he moved to San Francisco and could no longer practice law). They often played “tric-trac”, a form of backgammon. They took walks and played in the park.

Here are a few memories Helene wrote of while separated from her children - she didn’t want to worry them with what life was like in Vienna and she didn’t have much else of current interest to share with them. So sometimes she wrote recollections of happier times with her children.

From a (translated) letter dated July 29, 1940, Helene recalls:

“Whatever path we take, I just see you - every square, every street, every house reminds me of our walks together. In Stadtpark I see you as small children; near the Prater Park, I see you as a little older youth, and in the city I have this picture of you in more recent times. This is a driving force that takes me there nearly every day. I stand there by every shoe store, not because I really want to buy a pair, but in memory of Eva and in the same picture window I see Harry’s thoughts. This kind of activity has become a very typical one for me. Sometimes I catch myself looking around for you if you’re maybe just catching up to me and at which picture window did you stop to look? With these crazy ideas, I spend my days.”

From a (translated) letter dated March 5, 1941 (Ebi and Everl are nicknames for Eva):

“It is an unwritten law for me to hum a melody when I am in the bath. Not just any melody, but one from the era of “Mutti prüf much!”. Of course I begin with the summer night’s dream which Ebi would associate with the entrance march for the guests on the Wartburg. I as the next harmless parasite climb up to Juliet’s balcony for the nth time. Eva’s answer is ‘hey, this time you can’t trick me, mom!’ ‘Manon!’ A third time my daughter can still guess and then it’s Harry’s turn. I am exercising my brain. Eva: ‘I know what comes now.’ I sing an aria from ‘Samson and Delilah’ and Eva knows that it is ‘Tiefland.’ Probably I have sung it so badly that she couldn’t recognize it. Don’t worry about it Everl. I know lots of people here who think Johann Sebastian Bach is from somewhere in the Vienna Woods; who think Mozart is a physicist who discovered a noticeable sphere; that Hölderin is the inventor of powder made of insects; that Beethoven is the ‘spiritus rector’, a quotation from Götz; and that Götz himself is the person who invented the patent for estimating LMIA.”

From a (translated) letter dated January 24, 1941 (Ebi and Everl are nicknames for Eva):

“My dear, dear Everl!
I always when I haven’t had any letters from you for awhile notice that among the things I have lost track of is also the sense of time. When I think about you I don’t think about you in your current form, but these pictures of times long past appear to me. We write ‘January 1941’, but my memories are in May 1923 [when Eva would have been 2 years old]. Papa Vitali and Mutti Helene meet at Krieau and the motto is ‘Ebi Wagerl allein schieben’ - Ebi wants to push the stroller. Marie and her daughter are waiting and rather annoyed because they are waiting for us to show up which we were supposed to have done by 3 o’clock. Finally, exhausted, Mr. & Mrs. Cohen show up, but little Miss Eva doesn’t seem to be there. Not even a bundt cake could convince her to come the table. The shopping cart was steered through the various aisles and we could tell from Marie’s face that this getting together of our two daughters was not a great pleasure and we had hardly drunk our coffee when the threatening clouds started to show up. We asked the waitress to pay and the wind was already playing the prelude to a storm symphony with the tablecloths. The waitress nodded at us to show that she had heard us, but other guests at other tables held her back because they like we wanted to hurry up and get home before getting all wet. ‘Come Eva, get into the stroller, it’s going to rain now, come on Eva.’ ‘No, I’ll push it home myself’ was her most definite answer to this. The thunder was already coming and the storm seemed fairly far off. I didn’t see any reason to force the issue because Eva was stepping right along, pushing her stroller. We reached the main street. I was allowed to cross this one, but we were hardly over to the other side before I heard it again: ‘Ebi wants to push the stroller home all by herself’. Thank God we had already passed the .... We were getting close to the Institute for the Blind and once again I was allowed to cross the street and I thought maybe my daughter would give up on doing the driving but then I heard it again: ‘Ebi wants to push the stroller home’. Resigned, I looked up at the sky. The sky seemed to understand my problem, but recommended that I hurry. There’s a big bolt of lightning. For several seconds we stood on the Rotunda Bridge and it was like being in a big picture with the light. The thunder which followed right after proved not only that the storm had already reached us but it caused fear in everyone except for Eva. Papa’s patience was at an end and he ran as fast as he could to the deities of the storeroom [Penaten - Greek household goddesses and also a name of a diaper rash cream]. Eva was exhausted but just as determined as ever to do what she wanted to do and she pushed the stroller in front of her. I looked up at the sky again. I implored the lord of the heavens to wait just a few minutes. But the heavens had no more patience. I saw Sofien-Saal [concert hall around the corner from their apartment]. Should I wait out the storm under this roof or should I try to confront the weather for a few more steps? Eva interrupted my meditation with the phrase that I had already heard quite enough: ‘Ebi wants to push the stroller home all by herself’. It was 9 o’clock by now and we were sopping wet. The 2-year old little imp had gotten her way. I was amazed at the determination and single-mindedness that must have informed her subconscious and depressed because I feared that I had relinquished control of this little being. But fortunately it didn’t hurt anything.

Your letter came and now I am back on earth again. I picture you when you left and in years maybe my grandchildren will say ‘little girl wants to push the stroller home’ and I will see my memories in front of me. Harry, with his horribly exotic pronunciation and Eva in her little gray travel costume, the way she handed me a 50 pfennig coin through the window of the vehicle to bring me good luck. I have made sure to keep them safe.

It is time, I have to wake up now, because Papa is ready to go to the post office.”