As the letters jump from time to time, my husband suggested that a timeline would be helpful. I hope this simple chart is useful:
Today’s letter is from Helene in Vienna to her son Harry. He and Eva have been in San Francisco for a little over 6 months.
Vienna, 7 May 1940
My most beloved pickled herring!
There is a song for the Heurigen [young wine in the fall]: “Vienna becomes beautiful only at night.” The person who wrote this song surely had no idea how right that was. While all of Europe is in danger of war, there is only one oasis: the land of my dreams where everything has remained just as it was. The doctors who have not figured out the secrets of dreams yet would probably laugh at my interpretation. Wouldn’t it be possible that nature has helped out by creating a balance? A fraction of a second creates a dream and takes us to almost heavenly realms, and leads us to believe in the fulfillment of our most nostalgic wishes and this little fraction of a second gives us the power and inspiration to further plans. Sometimes I can hardly imagine myself how I could always wish: “I just wish the children were outside.” In my motherly way like the raven I even went so far as to be happy about having this wish fulfilled which often seems to me like a confusion of feelings and I ask myself :“Are you really normal?” The expression of joy has been pushed off a bit. Inside, one is happy to know you are outside of this witches’ cauldron and go around with the bitter expression of a corpse. But sometimes it’s the opposite. “Keep smiling” should hide how it feels from the inside. There’s nothing new here. “I’m sitting in the rain waiting” for mail and the possibility of seeing you near me not just in my dreams. Papa calls me nothing but “Mrs. Lowell” and believes he has a formula for his dreams. I don’t wonder about anything else. I wouldn’t even be surprised if I lay down here at night and woke up in Frisco. It would seem so natural for me that I could express my joy not just in antics because it just seems so natural to wake up where one wants to and actually belongs. Four weeks is a long time to wait for mail but they would pass quickly if we were sitting across from each other.
On back, handwritten:
Just received your letter of April 6. Thank you, great joy, [?]
Kisses
Helen
I love the wonderful pet names Helene has for her children – a way to show her affection for her children as well as her joy in clever wordplay. In this case she calls Harry “Herring” as a play on his name.
Helene and Vitali are hoping to soon join their children in San Francisco. Vitali has taken to calling his wife “Mrs. Lowell” since their children now go by that last name. I don’t know if it was their intent to change their names upon arrival. My grandmother never did, but by the time she was reunited with her children, they were adults and on their own.
When Roslyn first translated this letter a few years ago, I did not yet realize that Helene made so many references to music and literature. When preparing today’s post, I googled a few of the words she had in quotations marks and found two songs. The first about Vienna at night was popular during World War I.
The song about sitting in the rain appeared in a 1937 film “Zu neuen Ufern” (To New Shores)
Here are the Lyrics:
Ich steh' im Regen und warte auf Dich, auf Dich
Auf allen Wegen erwart' ich nur Dich, immer nur Dich
Der Zeiger der Kirchturmuhr rückt von Strich zu Strich, ach, wo bleibst Du denn nur? Denkst du nicht mehr an mich?
Und ich steh' im Regen und warte auf Dich, auf Dich
Immer warten nur die Menschen, die wirklich lieben
Kommst Du noch nicht? Wie die fallenden Tropfen am Ärmel zerstieben
Ich steh' im Regen und warte auf Dich, auf Dich
Auf allen Wegen erwart' ich nur Dich, immer nur Dich
Der Zeiger der Kirchturmuhr rückt von Strich zu Strich, ach, wo bleibst Du denn nur?
Denkst du nicht mehr an mich?
Und ich steh' im Regen und warte auf Dich, auf Dich
And a translation from Google Translate:
I stand in the rain and wait for you, for you
On all roads I only expect you, always only you
The pointer of the church clock moves from line to line, oh,
where are you? Don't you think of me anymore
And I stand in the rain and wait for you, for you
Only the people who really love are always waiting
Aren't you coming yet? Like the falling drops on your sleeve
I stand in the rain and wait for you, for you
On all roads I only expect you, always only you
The pointer of the church clock moves from line to line, oh,
where are you?
Don't you think of me anymore
And I stand in the rain and wait for you, for you