This is the last letter I have from Robert Zerzawy in London to his family in San Francisco. He died in November 1967.
Sept. 7, 1967
Dear Eva,
You’ve now become the family’s central coordinator, so I am addressing these lines to you. Of course, they are for all of you, and primarily to Helen. I will write to her separately in more detail. We have promised each other so many letters that it’s better if I send this letter in advance. “In advance” is certainly a good example of English understatement, considering that it took me five weeks to even get around to writing a thank you note. It’s almost pathological how just a few lines to acknowledge such a kind act can grow to guilt feelings beyond all dimension. Any attempt to explain this would only lead to pages of unproductive self-observation, which would be a morbid and unaesthetic exercise. It will only be imperative to mention, in this context, a few details about my health, but I will get to that later.
Even though this may not sound convincing after this long pause, your warm thoughts in the form of a birthday telegram from both the Lowell and Goldsmith families, combined with Helen’s congratulations, moved me deeply and gave me such feelings of warmth and joy that I can hardly describe them. The wording is so typical of Helen. However, if I’m wrong and you are actually responsible for the text, then I can only say that you are a worthy daughter to your mother. Which would be a great compliment. Eva, I still owe you thanks for a letter from March and the family pictures you sent on the occasion of Helen’s 80th birthday. Helen-Rose appears to be in an Ottoman outfit*, and Harry’s boys remind me of their father as he looked the last time I saw him in Vienna. Before I met him again in San Francisco and didn’t recognize him, which could happen again today – has he grown taller since 1947? Unfortunately, I don’t know his wife; she wasn’t in the picture yet back in those days, I imagine. You, dear Eva, I do remember; perhaps your face was rounder, but it is a lovely and eloquent picture. And then we come to our dear octogenarian: how dear and how appropriate the pictures are, and I am proud to have a place in your heart. I don’t usually speak in superlatives so easily, but they are fitting here. Paul, who should be congratulated on the pictures, has the (bad) luck of the draw, as the artist often does: he is not in the pictures, which is too bad.
By way of explanation about my new address: at the end of January I moved back to the street whose name is probably familiar to you from the past. I now live in a two-room flat next door to Matlock Court, in the next block, where I lived before I bought the house in Chiswick. I’m glad to be rid of the house. It was too much work for me and too far “off the map”. A friend from my youth came to help me move: the widow of my friend Reif from Munich. I don’t know how I could have done it without her help. I still apparently overdid it, and spent some weeks in the hospital and at home in bed. I sent notices of the move, but I only got through the letter B (in my address book). The rest is on my desk, unwritten. The time has passed for sending that, and now I must write individual letters, which is somewhat tedious. The plan to go on holiday with the Vienna Zerzawys to the Adriatic unfortunately didn’t work out. I recently had a relapse, and in this condition it is better to stay home than to travel. I also recently got shingles, which is another reason I didn’t go. But that is just bothersome. Sorry for talking so much about my state of health. I had to mention it because it is basically the reason for the delay in writing – Now I must close for today. I will write again when in a better writing mood. My love to you all and many “bussies” to Helen.
Affectionately,
Robert*In reading over this, I have found that it’s a Spanish princess, not a harem daughter – such is my knowledge of national costumes.
Helene turned 80 in November 1966 and Robert is referring to photos Eva sent him. The photographer Paul he mentions is not Robert’s brother who died almost 20 years earlier, but Eva’s husband/my father. I have very vivid memories of that day being in the kitchen with my mother and Harry’s wife while they tried to light 80 candles and keep them lit long enough to bring out the cake and sing. As you can see, they were successful!
It appears that Robert and Paul did not enjoy robust health and neither lived a long life. I wonder whether Paul had been exposed to anything during his time as a soldier during World War I and whether either or both of them had been affected by the 1918 flu. Helene wrote about two of her sisters never being robust after surviving the 1889 influenza epidemic (see August 29 post) – perhaps the 1918 epidemic caused similar issues?
Robert mentions the widow of his friend Reif. That name seemed familiar and I realized that we saw a photo of him playing tennis in Vienna in the June 14 post.
Apparently Zerzawy relatives continued to live in Vienna. I do not know who they were. Perhaps one day I’ll find out.