Belgian Horse

Belgium, 1936. This is another photo from my paternal Grandfather Vytautas's trip to Belgium.

It's not what they expected.

Belgian charity gives twenty cancer patients makeovers.

The countdown begins.

January 4, 2014: The Sound of Music Sing-a-Long is coming to Madison.

I will be ready.

The Baroness: "And somewhere out there, I think, is a young woman who will never be a nun."
 ...

(Later) The Captain: "Maria, there isn't going to be any Baroness. ... You see, you can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else."

Come on, you know the words!

Sentimental Value

A friend popped in for a lovely visit yesterday. In the course of reviewing some of the old photos I have scanned for this blog, we stumbled upon the original snapshot of the 1936 Kaunas flood. My Dad had described that flood earnestly to his Father, Vytautas, who was traveling in Belgium, in a note that filled the back of the photo.

Vytautas's trip to Belgium loomed large in our family's history. Perhaps in the mid-1930s, people considered a trip from Lithuania to Belgium a big expedition. I suppose for people who lived in a country that was the size of West Virginia, a journey that took longer than a few hours was significant. My Mom, for example, remembers packing lunches, blankets, and other "long distance" supplies for the train trip from Mom's hometown of Kaunas to Mariampolis, where her maternal Grandparents lived. Those two Lithuanian cities stand about one hundred kilometers apart.

Alternatively, maybe the Belgian trip glowed in everyone's memory because it represented a significant milestone in Vytautas's career. Vytautas, who was an officer in the Lithuanian Army, traveled to Belgium to purchase supplies for the Army. (I've wondered why Vytautas was not in uniform when he traveled to Belgium.)

Just as I'd been thinking about that Belgian trip again, my Toronto Cousin last night coincidentally sent me a photograph of the souvenir brass bell that Vytautas brought from Bruges in 1936 as a gift for his wife, my paternal Grandmother Tatjana.

Toronto, Ontario, Canada, July 2012. The brassy gal from Bruges has stayed shiny.

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

Easy to Read

My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, sat for this passport photo at around the time her husband, Vytautas, traveled to Belgium. I don't know whether this image was part of an internal passport or whether it identified Tatjana for foreign travel.

Kaunas, Lithuania, 1936. Here's how Tatjana looked ten years later, and here she was, ready to emigrate to the United States. Tatjana's face wore the weariness of hard times throughout her life.

Tucked close to the heart.

This photo of my paternal Grandfather, Vytautas, today slipped out of the address book of his wife, my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana. I was checking the old address book for some other information, and I was surprised to find the photo. I had never seen it until this morning.

Tucked in the address book also was a snapshot of Tatjana's sister, Elena, a photo of Tatjana with her father and one of her brothers, a holy card from the First Communion of her other Granddaughter, my Toronto Cousin, and Tatjana's old Blue Cross/Blue Shield card. These items together meant something to her.

I am delighted that Tatjana chose to remember her husband as a family man, standing in the garden of their home. When she wanted a glimpse of him, she didn't reach for a formal, military portrait. She probably sought to remember him as he looked when he returned from work every day.

This photo was taken at about the time Vytautas traveled to traveled to Belgium.

Kaunas, Lithuania, about 1936. My paternal Grandfather, Vytautas, poses in the garden. Is that his daughter, my Dad's twin sister, Jonė, in the background?

A Strong Connection

When my Dad was dying, I drove from Ohio to Suburban Chicago to spend Thanksgiving with him and my Mom. Dad had been ill for a long time, and the family knew he would die soon. He managed well during that holiday weekend; he was bright, lucid, and he even walked downstairs to eat the turkey meal at the dining room table.

While I was with Dad, he showed me a photo album that he'd recently created. Like the scouting album, this one preserved special memories. Into the album, Dad pasted reprints of old family photos. These were photos that Dad had restored and rephotographed over the years. There were photos from his childhood, photos relatives had sent from Lithuania, and photos Dad found especially interesting.

Dad had wanted to annotate each black-and-white print in the album. His handwriting, however, had become illegible because of his illness. So he asked me to do it for him. We sat together, at the mahogany desk in the master bedroom, as Dad identified each person in the photo, provided a date, and sometimes told a story. I recorded what Dad said in the margins of the photos, writing in pencil. I recall, however, that I found the work tedious, and I was a bit agitated about the task. It seemed like a trivial activity for such a heavy time.

As we collaborated, Dad showed particular attachment to two photos from 1936. One was a photo of his father, Vytautas, in Belgium. The other was of a street in Kaunas that had flooded during the month of March. 

I wasn't able, then, to determine why these photos had touched my Dad so deeply. Today, I looked at the back of the original photo of the flooded Kaunas street, and I made the connection. My paternal Grandfather, Vytautas, was on an extended business trip in Belgium when the Kaunas flood occurred, and my Dad had sent a photo of the flooded street to his traveling father.

Here is what my Dad wrote—in a child's penmanship—on the back of the photo:

March 17, 1936.

My Precious Daddy!

I am sending you a photograph that my cousin took. He took this photo on Maironis Street during the time of the flood. This year, there was a very big flood in Kaunas. The water had risen above the seven-meter mark. Now, the water is gradually receding, and things are beginning to dry out. It seemed like spring already was about to begin, but then it began, unbelievably, to snow again.

Wednesday I will take the examinations for the second scouting level. The exams will test knotting, thatching, and weaving. On Thursday I'll be tested on Morse Coding. I've already worked on the photography test, and I've seen the negatives. 

Lately, I've been coming home from school early because the homeroom teacher has been sick. The Lithuanian class teacher also is ill.

Goodbye, I kiss you many times.

Your little sparrow,

[Irene's Dad]

It's a potent mix: boyhood, longing for an absent Dad, exciting events at home, and … scouting.

This is the 1936 photo of my paternal Grandfather, Vytautas, traveling in Belgium: 

Here is the 1936 photo of the flooded street, Maironio Gatvė, in Kaunas:

And here is a 1957 postcard featuring a view of the Nemunas River, the cause of the flood, as it runs through Kaunas:

*     *     *     *     *

UPDATE: Here is a view of the seven-meter mark, showing how high the water levels rose:

Kaunas, Lithuania, August 2011. Tourists walk by the water-level marker. Thanks to my Toronto Cousin for making this photo available to me.