Another Departure

My Mom's best friend, Donna, spent the post-war years at a Displaced Persons camp in Würzburg. After Congress passed the Displaced Persons Act of 1948, Donna sailed to the United States with her brother, Uncle Al, and her Parents.

The ship "General Howze" transported Donna to America. When the ship left the German port, an American soldier named Jerry took photographs of Donna and her family. Jerry later sent the developed prints to Donna.

The General Howze arrived in New York on July 3, 1949. Donna and her family took a Chicago-bound train that same day, and the train reached Chicago on July Fourth. Donna remembers drinking a great deal of cold lemonade that day. She developed a stomach ache because she was unaccustomed to iced beverages.

I don’t know whether this was the same sailing of the General Howze as the one that brought Jonas Mekas to the United States.

Probably Bremerhaven, Germany, June 1949. The "General Howze" sets sail for America.

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Probably Bremerhaven, Germany, June 1949. Donna and her brother, Uncle Al, are ready to emigrate to the United States. I love that Donna is wearing trousers, and I covet Uncle Al's sweater.

Donna left Germany not long after my Parents sailed to the United States.

Thanks to my friend Kris for making these photos available to us.

We spend holidays with our closest friends.

Suburban Chicago, Easter Sunday, 1965. The family of my Mom's best friend, Donna, join us for Easter dinner. From left to right: Donna's Dad; my Mom; Donna's husband, Vytenis; my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana; Donna's Mom; Donna's brother, Uncle Al, and Donna.

(We used to place a scrap piece of the wall-to-wall carpeting in front of the sofa to prevent extra wear. We didn't realize that the coarse backing of that scrap did more damage to the carpet than the soles of our feet.)

Most people have some wacky photos from the 1970s.

In the early to mid-1970s, it became customary for women to wear wigs. My Mom had a couple of wigs and a hairpiece. For many years, she stopped cutting her hair. She instead pulled it back and snapped on the bun-like hairpiece in the back. It was fashionable, and it looked nice.

During that same era, women often wore long dresses. The trend started, of course, with the "maxi dresses" that the cool set popularized. The square-because-they're-over-thirty crowd imitated the style. Sometimes all the women invited to a house party agreed to wear "long dresses."

Here are three snapshots from a party hosted by my Mom's best friend, Donna and her husband, Vytenis. We socialized at their home often. It's unlikely that the three women bought the "long dresses" for this occasion. They probably purchased them for some other purpose and decided to get another "wear" out of them. My Mom, for example, had selected the two-piece brown number for a rehersal dinner.

Suburban Chicago, December 1974. My Mom, Donna, and Jadzė D relax in a corner of Donna's living room. You recently saw this threesome knitting at our house. Mom is wearing her "bun-like" hairpiece. Donna is au naturel. Jadzė D often wore wigs.

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Suburban Chicago, December 1974. They always have more fun when we're not around. Left to right are Jadzė D, Vytenis, Jadzė D's husband, my Mom, and Donna. My Dad is taking the photo.

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Suburban Chicago, December 1974. My Dad loved to flirt. It was a running family joke. Dad was harmless, and Mom didn't mind: she's the one who is snapping this photo.

A Back-to-Back Piano Post

Uncle Al—the brother of my Mom's best friend, Donna—was cool. He was a bit younger than my Parents. In the 1960s and 1970s, he usually wore turtlenecks, not ties. He kept his hair a bit longer than men of his generation, and he sported modern sideburns. Uncle Al often addressed his niece, Kris, and me in English. Sometimes he appeared at parties in a Nehru jacket. One Christmas, he wore a navy-blue, velvet blazer that made him look like a member of the Moody Blues.

Uncle Al worked as a professional artist. One year—at a time when most people gave me toys as gifts—he brought me a full-size set of 200 pastels. I felt so grownup.

You get a sense of his good nature here, here, and here.

Uncle Al also was an accomplished pianist. He could play any tune he heard, and he rarely relied on sheet music.

Suburban Chicago, December 1972. Uncle Al entertains us after Christmas dinner at Donna's house. The gentleman looking on in the background is the father of Donna and Uncle Al. Donna stands behind her father, talking to guests. Uncle Al uses the sheet music—as a coaster for his Courvoisier.

Morning Beachcombers

Door County, Wisconsin, July 1979. The family of my Mom's Best Friend, Donna, arrives for a weekend visit. Dad uses the self-timer to capture a candid shot. From left to right are: my Mom, Donna's Father, Donna, my Dad, and Donna's husband Vytenis.

Catwalk

The annual fashion show, the "Madų Paroda," was a celebrated event in the Lithuanian community. My Mom and her best friend, Donna, attended the show every year. The show was a stylish event, and it took place at the Lietuvių Jaunimo Centras, or "Lithuanian Youth Center,"on a Saturday night. Women sat at long tables, and, during the intermission, they ate a family-style meal of Lithuanian foods, namely sausages and sauerkraut, boiled potatoes, kugelis, a lingonberry crumble cake, and Napoleonas. The room smelled like hairspray and cigarette smoke.

All garments featured at the Madų Paroda were handmade. Women submitted their items to a committee that juried the selections for the show. We were thrilled when a few suits that my Mom had knitted made it onto the runway.

The catwalk models were Lithuanian women; most were former Displaced Persons. They were among the most elegant in the community: they had perfect figures, and most had "Baltic blonde" hair and frosted nails. When not fashioned for the show, the stylish women usually wore a lot of black clothing, accented by bulky amber jewelry. If you grew up in the Lithuanian community, then I'm sure you can picture this 1960s standard of ethnic beauty.


Gage Park, Chicago, about 1963. A woman, serving coffee, stands between my Mom and Donna. Mom and Donna have secured a great table, right next to the catwalk. (Photo by V. Noreika.)

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Gage Park, Chicago, about 1963. There's a lot going on here! (Photo by V. Noreika.)

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Suburban Chicago, 1972. It's my first Madų Paroda, and Mom and I have sewed matching dresses.

A Visit from Heidi, in Three Takes

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Suburban Chicago, June 1977. My Mom's best friend, Donna, visits with her long-haired, miniature Dachshund, "Heidi." Donna later adopted another Dachshund, already also named "Heidi." To distinguish between the dogs, Donna called one "Heidulė" and the other "Heidytė."

 

Recall Lithuanian is a language of multiple diminutives.

Are you enjoying the party?

Suburban Chicago, December 31, 1960. I wrote earlier about my Dad's love of flirting. At parties, he often engaged my Mom's best friend, Donna, in cute photo opportunities. Imagine if that generation had had Facebook.

Later, when my Dad was dying—at about this time of year, twenty-six years ago—Donna played a key role in his care taking. When my Mom left the house for work or to grocery shop, Donna came over and sat for many hours with Dad. It was a comfort to him to have a familiar, lifelong friend at his side.

Same Time, Next Year

The elaborate New Year's Eve celebrations among the Lithuanians living in our suburb trickled off beginning in the mid-1960s. Families got busier, tight alliances had been forged, and the urgency to make new friends had diminished.

After the big parties became less frequent, we traditionally greeted the New Year with the family of my Mom's best friend, Donna. We took turns with Donna, her husband, and her daughter, Kris, hosting the party. The tradition continued through the 1980s, when the party turned into a simple, but satisfying, evening of watching WTTW's annual, New Year's Eve broadcast of Die Fledermaus.

Suburban Chicago, December 31, 1966. Here we are, ringing in the New Year, with Donna's family.

Holding Hands

Suburban Chicago, January 1, 1965. I should have posted this photo on New Year's Day because it's a holiday-sensitive snapshot. When I ran across it today, however, I decided to post it because of the way in which the subjects—my paternal Grandmother, my Mom, my Mom's best friend Donna, and Donna's husband Vytenis—are touching one another. Tatjana's grasp of my Mom's hand especially is sweet.

Mom's wearing the dress that I later took as my own, and Donna's dress has the illusion neckline that I found so elegant.

A Serious Toast

Suburban Chicago, December 31, 1969. Everyone gathers in Donna's living room to hear our enclave's patriarch deliver the toast.

My friend Kris—Donna's daughter—and I have noisemakers in our mouths.

Sunday Gathering

Suburban Chicago, January 1967. Members of our suburban Lithuanian enclave gather for another Sunday-afternoon dinner. You may recognize people in this snapshot: Vytenis, the husband of my Mom's best friend Donna, looks at the camera on the left; Donna leans toward the table on the right; Lily stands in the back, watching over her guests, and; my Mom sits in the back, on the right, looking at the other guests.

Picnic Culture: Getting Reacquainted, the Three Takes

Suburban Chicago, June 1969. My Parents host a picnic in our backyard. Let's get reacquainted with the characters. From left: my Godmother, my Godfather, my Mom's best friend Donna, Mr. John, my Godmother's husband, my Godfather's wife, her mother, my Mom, Donna's husband Vytenis, little Irene, my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, and my Godmother's father.

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Suburban Chicago, June 1969. A few of the guests move to the living room, where they look at Dad's 1969 black-and-white photo album. The photo that's visible is from my Parent's twentieth-anniversary party; it's posted here.

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Suburban Chicago, June 1969. Although my Mom adapted somewhat to the fashion shifts of the 1960s, she never changed her skirt length. She always wore a mid-knee hem.

Departure Approaching

Schweinfurt, Germany, Easter 1949. My Mom's best friend, Donna (on the left), walks on the Displaced Persons camp property. Donna emigrated to the United States a few months after this picture was taken.

Thanks to my friend Kris for making this photo available to us.

The best place to knit.

Our family has spent time in Door County, Wisconsin, since the late 1960s. Many of the sites and tourist spots no longer are destinations for us. But we still enjoy the quiet time near the lake. It's a great place, for example, to sit by the picture window and knit.
 

Door County, Wisconsin, May 1985. My Mom and her best friend, Donna, relax with their knitting. The women have matching knitting bags. My Mom and Donna spent a lot of time together knitting.

That's Meškė, the Poodle, sitting on my Mom's lap.

Beginnings

Displaced Persons who fled Lithuania sought refuge in DP Camps established by UNRRA after World War II ended.

Mainfranken, or "Franconia," is a Bavarian, administrative district in Germany. The Mainfranken Displaced Persons Control Center was the place at which UNRRA processed those Displaced Persons who would be relocated to Würzburg or Schweinfurt. The DP camps in Würzburg and Schweinfurt were part of the U.S. Zone of the Allied, post-war, occupation of Germany.

This means my Dad, his twin sister Jonė, and their mother, Tatjana, all shuffled through the Mainfranken Control Center before settling—for the next five years—in Schweinfurt.

It's also the place at which my friend Kris's Mom, Donna, her Uncle Al, and Donna's Parents received permission to secure housing in Würzburg. Mr. Irene's paternal Uncle, Ignas, also would have passed through Mainfranken on his way to Würzburg.

Mainfranken, Germany, 1945. Displaced Persons await processing at the UNRRA Control Center. A priest and two altar boys also greet the refugees. Notice that the DPs have few belongings.

Thanks to my friend Kris for making this photo available to us.

A Day to Knit

Saturday afternoon is another good time for knitting. Invite a friend and pull out the needles.

That is what is on my agenda today.

Suburban Chicago, June 1968. My Mom, wearing her beloved moccasins, sits in the corner of the living room with her best friend, Donna. Mom's knitting bag is at her feet. The furniture and wall-to-wall carpet are "protected" with the throw rug and slipcovers.

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Suburban Chicago, June 1968. Both women relax in their "stay-at-home" clothes. My Mom wears a simple gray-and-white cotton shift. Donna is more fashion forward in her knit pedal pushers and her polka-dot shell. Notice that both women work on circular needles.

They knitted together through the years.

Door County, Wisconsin, December 1979. My Mom's best friend, Donna, has joined Mom and Dad for a weekend in Door County. Mom and Donna spent many hours together knitting. (See, for example, here, here, here, here, here, and here.)

Mom shares her chair with Gigi, whose toy rests on the carpet.

Backyard Picnic

Suburban Chicago, July 1969. My Mom's best friend, Donna, and Donna's husband, Vytenis, host a barbeque. Mom brought her knitting bag.

Outdoor Knitting, in Three Takes

Door County, Wisconsin, August 1984. My Mom and her best friend, Donna, share another afternoon knitting.  Meškė is sitting with Mom again.

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Door County, Wisconsin, August 1984. Oh, you say Mom's not knitting? She's reading the new issue of Vogue Knitting.

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Door County, Wisconsin, August 1984. Donna brought her gold, vinyl knitting bag.