POMORSKA STREET. SARA APPLEBAUM
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his twenties and married and already he was in the army. Lisette was alone, taking care of me as best she could. Her faith was a great comfort to her. I remember going to church with her sometimes. It’s not like she was trying to convert me. Her religion was just a big part of her life. She lived it fully. I haven’t found many like her, Jew or Gentile.
Her husband had been a Polish Catholic. How he came to Belgium I never heard. He had died by the time I knew her. As a widow, she had to go to work. That’s how she came to be the housekeeper in my Aunt Dora’s home.
At my great-aunt Dora’s death, Lisette was unemployed again. Yet, she took responsibility for me, to bring me home to whatever part of my family she could find.
Jews in Belgium were already being sent to concentration camps by that time, so it was dangerous for me to remain in Antwerp, even more so without legal papers.
When my parents sent me to safety in Belgium, there had been no question of getting a Visa or other legal documents. It was impossible. I was smuggled in.
Lisette even tried going back to her hometown, Willebroek, thinking she might find safety for us there. What she found instead was that the Military Fort, just outside of town, had been converted into an Auffangslagen, a waiting camp, where Jews were kept before their transport to Germany’s Death Camps. It was dangerous to stay.
Moving between countries during the war was a nightmare. She didn’t have money to pay bribes to border guards, but somehow she managed to get us into Poland.
Her husband’s family, in Poland, didn’t offer us much of a welcome. She parried their questions about me. She couldn’t say too much. The apartment we stayed in was small, overcrowded and poor. They couldn’t feed two extra people. It was easy to see that.
Lisette also worried about nosy neighbors. I was a Jew after all, and some people might remember me or figure things out. It wasn’t safe, not for us, not for the family. The feeling of being safe was something I had forgotten long ago.
Her efforts to find my parents in Lublin were fruitless. Other people, strangers were living in our family’s home and questions weren’t welcome. They were generally met with resentment and hostile stares.
Lisette didn’t say much to me about what she was finding out, but even at fourteen, I realized there was profound destruction everywhere. There was no sign of my family, my neighbors, nor much of anything familiar.
People talk about the smell of fear; dogs can sense it and they react to it. I could sense it too. I was reeking of it myself. So was everyone around me.
Taking me back to Belgium with no legal documents was not a realistic possibility and leaving me alone in Poland was not something Lisette would consider.
We couldn’t stay in Lublin with the Majdanek Concentration Camp practically in the heart of the city. I didn’t know what went on there at the time, but other people did, and talking about the subject was taboo.
Because of the way the townspeople behaved, you would think that not talking about it could make the hideous thoughts and terrible smells and the sight of human ashes raining down, all vanish somehow…become invisible.
Some distance East of the city, in the Parczew Forest, were a group of Partisans, Jewish Resistance fighters. I don’t remember how we made our way there or how she got them to take us in, what wiles or threats or pleas she used. Somehow she managed it.
We weren’t too welcome, being strangers and outsiders. We were possible collaborators, for all they knew! The Partisan groups constantly survived on a knife’s edge. Yet, they did take us in. With them, we were able to stay alive. At least I was.
As I remember it, I start to shiver and my hands shake.
****
A nurse walks into my room and sees the tears on my face and asks if I am in pain and if I want some medication.
“This kind of pain, medicine won’t help.” I tell her, and get a puzzled look in return.
She looks at my chart, gives me some water to sip and I settle back into a half sleep, disturbed by other memories. I think of the years when my children were little. It was hard for me to give them the nurturing I’d had so little of in my life. I’ve passed on a bitter legacy, I’m afraid. Lucy…her children are being raised by a nanny. Clara…my Clara has held her heart closed, like I have.
The images of children, those here and now and those of the past, all begin to blend into one tapestry, one collage as, once again, I fall asleep.
Every time I wake, I seem to be coming back from the past. Each memory hurts, just like my old body hurts.
I’ve never wanted to burden my children and grandchildren with the past. I survived it. That’s enough. Yet here I am, drawing Clara into it.
I’m looking forward to going home today, God willing. Maybe there, I can get some sleep. Nurses in and out all night, pills, shots. How is a person supposed to rest, much less get well in a hospital?
***
It’s been five days and Grandma Sal is getting ready to check out of the hospital. Today I got there early and saw the doctor. His report was fairly encouraging. Grandma tolerated the procedure pretty well and there’s no indication of clotting, but it isn’t time to party hearty yet.
Grandma and I have some time for a talk. She knows she’s not ready to travel abroad, and asks me to make the trip without her. God willing she’ll join me on the second trip, if there is one.
She presses me hard to take on her project now and not wait till she’s ready to join me. This hospital stay has brought home to her that there is no time to waste. She lays out the basic task and asks me to commit to it.
This isn’t exactly a deathbed request, but I feel obligated anyway. She’s never asked me for anything before. I don’t know that she’s ever asked anyone for anything. She’s always done what she wanted and done it herself. Now she needs my help.
The idea of pursuing the leads she’s found and seeing a bit of the world starts to grow on me and I tell her so. She breaks into a wide smile and her face takes on an almost rosy glow.
Mom will be coming by later and she’ll take grandma home. She’s arranged for a visiting nurse to check in daily and a companion has been arranged to spend the nights for a few weeks. Grandma fussed but finally agreed.
I’ll be stopping by tomorrow morning to see my grandmother settled back at her place. That way I’ll feel less guilty about going out of the country at this time.
How in the hell am I going to explain it to the family? They won’t like it!
GETTING READY
This afternoon I have to go to the office. I’ve arranged to talk to my boss and stop in at the Human Resources department to fill out the leave application. I’m figuring about three weeks for now.
It will be a busy afternoon. I stop at the bank and go through the Safe Deposit Box, count out some more cash to cover what I will need and deposit most of the money in a new account. I’ll be able to bank on line and keep track of the expenses of the project. I take the remaining manila envelope, determined to look through the documents carefully tomorrow.
I look at my TO DO list.
Arrange for a leave
Withdraw some walking around money
Get a couple of decent suitcases, one bag,
one carry on
Buy a few non-wrinkling traveling outfits
Get a good pair of walking shoes
Contact Mr. Walenski
Make Airline reservations
Confirm Hotel reservations
Download Skype on my I-phone so I can
stay