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Today’s letter is from Robert Zerzawy in London to his aunt Helene Cohen in San Francisco.
15/9/63
Still for the time being:
35, Matlock Court
Kensington Park Rd.
London, W. 11.My dear Helene,
I ask myself rather horrifiedly how it happened that almost 8 weeks will have gone by before my thanks to you for your good thoughts on my birthday will reach you. Of course, immediately when I got your so welcome letter in that old handwriting that has hardly changed at all, then I sat down and started writing but then the old habit repeats itself — I wanted to tell you about so many things that somehow I got all meshed together and I didn’t finish it. That’s what happens to one’s successors. You have talked about your own physical condition and in the interaction of problems with circulation, depression, and other problems, which I understand only too well since I myself specialize in this. You will understand how it could be that one can get all tied up mentally and how there’s not a simple answer to these complicated conditions, how over simple it seems to outsiders.
Generally, I agree with your doctors: there are nerve problems of various kinds and on a human level, those rude vulgar slips of memory, and displacement require our concentration and what I would like to call intellectual memory. One can certainly see in your letter that you are still a match to most people in your ability to express yourself.
I’m always happy about the flashlights from the family life of Eva and Harry and their respective children. How often I wished I was closer and could participate. I can imagine what joy and interest they bring to your life.
I admire you very much for undertaking a handwritten report. This is a comfort to me and a joy. I hope to amuse you by repeating it here. You have proved to yourself that you can do it. Don’t overdo like I did. Try as much as you can. You have such lofty aspirations, just write what you can.
In my and Anne’s life in the last weeks, many things have happened. This is part of the reason for the delay in my writing. My employer, the colorful Bayer factory, which you probably know as the inventor of aspirin, has decided to open a new chemistry office in England, where I now work and where Anne also has a nice job. That all happened quite quickly and as would also be the case where you are, there are certain complications, such as finding a good location for it, getting it set up, and all furnished. We were quite busy with that and with getting a house at the same time. A well-situated house of the right size and in good condition and for a price we could afford -- finding this takes patience, tenacity, and a car, which we were able to buy a few months ago. I got this even though I am not of the appropriate age. The necessary mortgage loan and negotiations went along so that we were able to move in in October.
So these are very positive developments, and I feel that I am just about to get it all together and reach my goal. I have a good friend to thank for all of this, who was actually my subordinate when I worked in Immenstadt in Bavaria in a [hemp or crafts?] factory. Thanks to his talents and responsible nature, he became the director of this large company, one of the 2 or 3 men who are responsible for large international companies with 65,000 employees. Thomas Anpham [?], of English descent like his name indicates, and may be the most valuable person I have met in life and has many wonderful human qualities. I don’t mean to emphasize that his fate wasn’t easy and he suffered the blemishes of Naziism.
I always make sure not to be overly cheerful or in high spirits and not to forget the many hard times that I have experienced. Maybe that sounds rather pompous. I hadn’t meant it that way. I notice that Anne and I too easily take [?] for granted, which is not how it ought to be.
Actually, not that long ago I had thought about retiring or leading a semi-retired life and dealing with my various ailments. The Bayer matter gave me motivation again. We will have to see how long that lasts. In any case, it will be easier to get by in our own house if needs be. And for Anne, to a certain extent at least, it is something to take care of.
Helen, I’ll end this letter for today. Maybe I’d better send this letter off to you. Because there’s still room, I must tell some news. I am writing on a sunny Monday afternoon, taking advantage of the nice weather. I feel the visit would be ideal for the purposes of writing. Well, Helen, thanks again for your letters and tales. I hope you’ll sleep better and get along with the other things that are festering. Well, I feel the old family connection here.
Your Powidl
Note: Anne says hello of course and is sending greetings to Eva and Paul, Harry, Marie and the offspring, whether they know us or not.
P.S. Didn’t know of Tilly Zentner’s passing away nor of Hilda’s divorce, re-marriage and second divorce.
Even well into his 60s, Robert signs his childhood nickname Powidl – referring to a popular plum spread -- when writing to his beloved aunt, his closest living relative and the only person left who shared a history of early 20th Century life in Bohemia and knew his mother, grandmother, and siblings. See also August 8 post.
At age 64, Robert finally feels that he has landed on his feet professionally and is able to create a comfortable life. What mixed feeling he must have had to be working for the English branch of Bayer, a German company that thrived during the war while being involved in despicable acts!
As we’ve seen in other letters from Robert, he and Helene were kindred spirits. Both had emotional temperaments and seemed more negatively affected by life’s many difficulties and challenges than were other members of the family.