October 26, 2013

The Second Update

Recently I posted a postcard my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, had sent to her daughter, Jonė. Here is s second postcard Tatjana wrote before she, Jonė, and my Dad reunited in Schweinfurt.

The card is addressed to Jonė at the "Litauischer Lager"—that is, the "Lithuanian [DP] camp."



Tatjana wrote:
My most treasured Jonė, Yesterday I mailed a letter to you. I want you always to know where I am, and how I am doing. I'm already writing for the fourth time fromm Oberstdorf. I am living and eating at the home of a local cobbler, whose wife looks after me as though I were her relative. I've given her everything she'll need for meal preparations through August 16. In the mornings (and in the evenings) she makes a delicious "malzkafé" with very good, real milk. But by now, I have absolutely no bread. It turns out the bread that Casey's mother gave me was from one of the local [DP] camps, and it came from a "swindler." When we sliced the bread, its inside was filled with a stringy dough. I think it's a particular type of bread made with a large quantity of potatoes. So we dried that bread thoroughly in the sun, and we made crackers. Your aunt left today. Although I truly love her a great deal, I am happy she is gone because she was starting to get on my nerves. She worries way too much about food. Now I won't have to think about food. I am sitting outside, the sun is setting but still high at the top of the mountains. The light continues to sparkle on the peaks, and the blue fades to gray as the light meets the snowcaps. (I'll finish this in the next postcard.)

Thanks to my Toronto Cousin for making this photo available to us. 

4 comments:

edutcher said...

Fascinating letter.

It must have been a great relief for her not to literally have to worry where her next meal was coming from.

Thank you for sharing that; I think it's important we be reminded of how good we have it here and how tenuous it can be.

Irene said...

I'll be posting a third one in a few weeks.

Anonymous said...

I'm struck by the ingenuity of taking bread that was inedible and making crackers out of it. Kind of a metaphor for Tatiana's life, I think: regardless of what life threw at her, she managed to make something good come of it.

--Nora

Irene said...

Nora, yes; she implies the bread was rotten. When I first translated the postcard, I thought it said "breadcrumbs," not "crackers." The word she used is a cross between "cracker" and "biscuit."

She was resilient.