I apologize for taking so long to post again. Last week seemed to have a series of crappy events, and honestly I just didn’t have my writing mojo. Hopefully it’s making its way back.
This experience has really made both Todd and I think about our heritage/ancestry, and has allowed us the opportunity to connect with individuals who are (albeit distantly) related to our families and still in Europe, helping us to paint a better picture of our ancestral identities.
On Saturday Todd and I spent a wonderful afternoon with a friend of his Aunt Julie, who is often called “Cousin Martha,” as well as Martha’s son Pierre [Note: For those of you who don’t know Aunt Julie, she is a member of Todd’s family who is like a grandmother to him. She and Todd’s grandfather were cousins, and Julie and Todd’s grandfather remained very close throughout his life. Julie has been an integral part of Todd’s life.]
Martha is in her eighties, and she is part of an ever-shrinking group of individuals who survived World War II and was old enough at the time to really remember it. Her memory of the war is still quite good, and as a result Todd and I ended up learning a great deal about his family and their experience during the war. Linda gave me her blessing to put their family story on the blog, and so I’ll recount it some of it here because I feel that it’s the sort of story that should be told. I can’t begin to do it justice, but I’ll do my best.
First, an observation: Vienna is a city haunted by ghosts. By that I don’t mean that I literally fend off Mozart’s spirit each night, but rather, that it is a city haunted by its past. Everywhere you turn you see vestiges of its former glory, which now seems almost absurd for a city that’s relatively small and no longer a global power. Without the Habsburgs around to occupy all the grand palaces and pavilions, the whole city feels a bit like a museum. And you can’t help but feel the palpable absence I mentioned in my earlier blog post. Like when you go to the former Jewish quarter – former, of course, because there aren’t any Jews left there – and feel the absence, wondering what it must have been like 100 years ago, bustling with shops and families.
With Todd, I feel like Vienna is full of the ghosts of his family’s past. I am grateful that we know the addresses and neighbourhoods where his grandparents lived, where Julie grew up, and where his great grandparent’s store was located. It adds a personal dimension to this historic city, and has made for some strange “life goes on” moments – like when we went to a party at our friend Corentin’s house last week and realized he lives just around the corner from where Todd’s grandmother grew up. I think this is part of why I try so hard to love Vienna. I want to love Vienna the way his family must have once – and I think that’s part of why I get frustrated when it isn’t always a city that is easy to love. So after having a somewhat crappy week, spending an afternoon with Martha was a truly special experience, and made me give Vienna yet another chance.
Martha is a petite woman with a slightly gravelly voice and a warm smile that makes you feel instantly at ease. Her apartment is clean, well organized, and decorated with pictures of her children, grandchildren, and her great granddaughter. Even though is practically a stranger to us, she made us feel like a part of her family. And indeed, Todd somewhat is. Martha’s aunt married one of Julie’s uncles, and so by marriage Martha and Julie’s families became intertwined.
Julie’s family had a summer home outside of Vienna, and one summer Martha was invited to join Julie, and this is how she and Julie became friends. Martha is quick to tell of how kind Julie has always been, even as a child. In 1935, Martha’s family moved to Paris, and in February 1938, Julie’s father, Sigmund Bosel, visited Martha’s family in Paris. Martha’s father implored Sigmund to not return to Vienna, telling him that it wasn’t safe, and that Sigmund should bring his family to Paris.
Sigmund was a prominent man in Vienna, and the owner of Bosel’s department store. He told Martha’s father that he had business to take care of, and that he had a good relationship with the police in Vienna, so he wasn’t too concerned. He returned to Vienna, and Hitler invaded later that year. Both of Julie’s parents, Sigmund and Elke, were arrested and thrown in prison. It was unclear to Martha how it happened, but after a time Elke was released from prison. Sigmund was “made an example of” and murdered in a public square. Martha says that Sigmund’s death was featured in several books on the Holocaust, which is a testament to his role in the Vienna community as a businessman and philanthropist.
Once Elke was released from prison, she was able to smuggle herself, Julie, and Julie’s brother Alfonse to Paris through the underground. When they arrived as more or less refugees, Martha’s family took them in. Their families stayed together for a time, often with people rotating sleeping on the floor. Soon thereafter, even Paris became a dangerous place for Jews, so Martha’s family fled to Marseilles, and they arranged for Elke to be hidden in Paris. Through the kinder transport, Elke’s mother (Julie’s grandmother, who lived in London) was able to come and retrieve Julie and Alfonse and take them to London with her. Elke was not allowed to go with her children.
Martha married in Marseilles, and she and her husband fled to Switzerland, where they stayed for the remainder of the war. Her son Pierre was born there. After the war, Martha went back to Paris, where they found Elke very sick – she had developed breast cancer. Julie too returned to Paris after the war, and after several years of living in both London and Paris, she was finally approved for a visa to come to America. Elke was not approved. Shortly after Julie arrived in New York, Elke’s health deteriorated, and the US government let Elke come to the US so Julie could care for her mother for the remainder of her life. Martha came back to Vienna in 1948 and has lived here ever since.
To this day Martha and Julie remain friends, and make sure to call one another every year on each other’s birthday, and Martha and her family have visited New York on several occasions to see Julie. Their story is one that’s almost difficult to imagine – how they lived through so much pain and suffering, and in Julie’s case, to lose both of your parents in such an awful and tragic way. I can’t even begin to fathom pain like that, and it makes me so grateful for what I do have – most especially for my family and friends.
I promise to post again soon, and hopefully on a more benign topic. Love to you all -- we miss you an awful lot!
This experience has really made both Todd and I think about our heritage/ancestry, and has allowed us the opportunity to connect with individuals who are (albeit distantly) related to our families and still in Europe, helping us to paint a better picture of our ancestral identities.
On Saturday Todd and I spent a wonderful afternoon with a friend of his Aunt Julie, who is often called “Cousin Martha,” as well as Martha’s son Pierre [Note: For those of you who don’t know Aunt Julie, she is a member of Todd’s family who is like a grandmother to him. She and Todd’s grandfather were cousins, and Julie and Todd’s grandfather remained very close throughout his life. Julie has been an integral part of Todd’s life.]
Martha is in her eighties, and she is part of an ever-shrinking group of individuals who survived World War II and was old enough at the time to really remember it. Her memory of the war is still quite good, and as a result Todd and I ended up learning a great deal about his family and their experience during the war. Linda gave me her blessing to put their family story on the blog, and so I’ll recount it some of it here because I feel that it’s the sort of story that should be told. I can’t begin to do it justice, but I’ll do my best.
First, an observation: Vienna is a city haunted by ghosts. By that I don’t mean that I literally fend off Mozart’s spirit each night, but rather, that it is a city haunted by its past. Everywhere you turn you see vestiges of its former glory, which now seems almost absurd for a city that’s relatively small and no longer a global power. Without the Habsburgs around to occupy all the grand palaces and pavilions, the whole city feels a bit like a museum. And you can’t help but feel the palpable absence I mentioned in my earlier blog post. Like when you go to the former Jewish quarter – former, of course, because there aren’t any Jews left there – and feel the absence, wondering what it must have been like 100 years ago, bustling with shops and families.
With Todd, I feel like Vienna is full of the ghosts of his family’s past. I am grateful that we know the addresses and neighbourhoods where his grandparents lived, where Julie grew up, and where his great grandparent’s store was located. It adds a personal dimension to this historic city, and has made for some strange “life goes on” moments – like when we went to a party at our friend Corentin’s house last week and realized he lives just around the corner from where Todd’s grandmother grew up. I think this is part of why I try so hard to love Vienna. I want to love Vienna the way his family must have once – and I think that’s part of why I get frustrated when it isn’t always a city that is easy to love. So after having a somewhat crappy week, spending an afternoon with Martha was a truly special experience, and made me give Vienna yet another chance.
Martha is a petite woman with a slightly gravelly voice and a warm smile that makes you feel instantly at ease. Her apartment is clean, well organized, and decorated with pictures of her children, grandchildren, and her great granddaughter. Even though is practically a stranger to us, she made us feel like a part of her family. And indeed, Todd somewhat is. Martha’s aunt married one of Julie’s uncles, and so by marriage Martha and Julie’s families became intertwined.
Julie’s family had a summer home outside of Vienna, and one summer Martha was invited to join Julie, and this is how she and Julie became friends. Martha is quick to tell of how kind Julie has always been, even as a child. In 1935, Martha’s family moved to Paris, and in February 1938, Julie’s father, Sigmund Bosel, visited Martha’s family in Paris. Martha’s father implored Sigmund to not return to Vienna, telling him that it wasn’t safe, and that Sigmund should bring his family to Paris.
Sigmund was a prominent man in Vienna, and the owner of Bosel’s department store. He told Martha’s father that he had business to take care of, and that he had a good relationship with the police in Vienna, so he wasn’t too concerned. He returned to Vienna, and Hitler invaded later that year. Both of Julie’s parents, Sigmund and Elke, were arrested and thrown in prison. It was unclear to Martha how it happened, but after a time Elke was released from prison. Sigmund was “made an example of” and murdered in a public square. Martha says that Sigmund’s death was featured in several books on the Holocaust, which is a testament to his role in the Vienna community as a businessman and philanthropist.
Once Elke was released from prison, she was able to smuggle herself, Julie, and Julie’s brother Alfonse to Paris through the underground. When they arrived as more or less refugees, Martha’s family took them in. Their families stayed together for a time, often with people rotating sleeping on the floor. Soon thereafter, even Paris became a dangerous place for Jews, so Martha’s family fled to Marseilles, and they arranged for Elke to be hidden in Paris. Through the kinder transport, Elke’s mother (Julie’s grandmother, who lived in London) was able to come and retrieve Julie and Alfonse and take them to London with her. Elke was not allowed to go with her children.
Martha married in Marseilles, and she and her husband fled to Switzerland, where they stayed for the remainder of the war. Her son Pierre was born there. After the war, Martha went back to Paris, where they found Elke very sick – she had developed breast cancer. Julie too returned to Paris after the war, and after several years of living in both London and Paris, she was finally approved for a visa to come to America. Elke was not approved. Shortly after Julie arrived in New York, Elke’s health deteriorated, and the US government let Elke come to the US so Julie could care for her mother for the remainder of her life. Martha came back to Vienna in 1948 and has lived here ever since.
To this day Martha and Julie remain friends, and make sure to call one another every year on each other’s birthday, and Martha and her family have visited New York on several occasions to see Julie. Their story is one that’s almost difficult to imagine – how they lived through so much pain and suffering, and in Julie’s case, to lose both of your parents in such an awful and tragic way. I can’t even begin to fathom pain like that, and it makes me so grateful for what I do have – most especially for my family and friends.
I promise to post again soon, and hopefully on a more benign topic. Love to you all -- we miss you an awful lot!
1 comment:
Wow! As a future history teacher, you know I loved this one. I am always amazed by the incredible lives our World War II generation has endured. The U.S. side of it is all U.S.O. and welcoming you're future husband home from war- idealistic. To see, through first hand account, the stories from a European point of view is certainly eye-opening. You are missed as well!
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