In 1939, my grandmother and grandfather sent their children to live in safety with cousins in San Francisco. They had planned to follow their children as soon as possible, but were thwarted at every turn. For about 1-1/2 years, my grandmother wrote letters to her children every few days. She wrote more than 130 letters – I have over 100 of them. By the second half of 1941, there were far fewer letters; after Pearl Harbor, there were none.
My grandmother numbered each letter to keep track of whether all of her letters arrived. She encouraged her children to do the same so she would know whether they she was not receiving mail or if they were not such prolific correspondents.
During these days of Covid-19, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of finding something to write about when each day is much the same as the last. Helene didn’t want to worry her children about her fears and the true state of the world, so she often resorted to relating old stories and word games, making puns and literary and musical references, and generally doing word play. She didn’t receive letters very often (or at least as often as she would have liked) and many times the letters arrived months after they’d been written so she didn’t feel like she knew what was happening in her children’s lives. On top of everything else, she had to worry about censors who read every letter and might not send one if it contained something they disliked. I imagine they disliked most things.
Here is a translated excerpt from her letter of January 2, 1940:
“This letter … should bring you my greetings for the new year. My wishes for you are the ones I always have. The old year just wouldn’t go away. It was a bad year and did bad things to us.”
Clearly, Helene felt much the same about 1939 as we do about 2020! And with good reason.
She continues:
“Today I was very sure we would get some mail and I looked in my change purse for money to give the mailman but nothing came – no letter, no package, nothing. So I’m writing you whatever sense or nonsense comes to mind. I’m happy I have nothing to report.….
There’s no sense in asking questions. I must be patient until normal postal traffic can be reinstated. I don’t know how much more patience I have to offer. I am still with you in my thoughts – that has not changed. In my fantasies and dreams at least you are present to me. I go with you everywhere and am happy to know you are there. I know there will come a day that this separation will have been made up to us….”
During the rise of Hitler, Jews and others who were persecuted couldn’t imagine that things would keep getting worse. They had lived sometimes for generations in their country or city and felt like proud citizens. With each freedom lost, they learned to adapt to each new restriction and constriction. Helene writes as if some level of normalcy and “normal postal traffic” can resume. But of course nothing would ever be normal again.
Finally:
“P.S. Wishing Harry everything good possible for his birthday. And on the 14th of January I’ll wish Eva the same so that she’ll get it in time.”
One amazing thing throughout my grandmother’s ordeal – she never lost her wry sense of humor. The P.S. in this letter is a good example. Harry’s birthday was January 13 so she is saying she’ll be sure to get her card to Eva out right away, even though her birthday isn’t until May. Harry and Eva shared their mother’s sense of humor – always finding something amusing to say even during the darkest times. A good way to survive and maintain sanity when life continuously throws obstacles in one’s way.