April 12, A Day to Celebrate

A Day to Celebrate

Daughter Alicia writes:

I try to find enjoyable adventures and events for my mother… but this time, she was the one who told me about an upcoming fundraiser for a local orchestra that puts on wonderful musical programs during the year:  Sinfonietta.  So I arranged for us to get tickets, put on afternoon-in-the-garden-tea-party attire, and go on a Sunday afternoon.   Across the globe another event was happening on this day:  a commemoration of the date of liberation of the camp where my mother, along with 2000 women who had surrendered to the Germans after the fall of the Warsaw Uprising in October 1944, in Oberlangen, Germany.  Such a trip to that commemoration ceremony would have been just too much to undertake, although we did send a short video of my mother speaking about her experiences in that camp to the organizers and the mayor of the town.  We were told that they would screen the clip for the 200 or so people who would be attending the ceremony.  I was delighted to have something far more entertaining and uplifting for us to attend on this day.  My mother describes it below:

Nika writes:

April 12 is a very important date in our lives:  On April 12, in 1945, I was liberated by Polish and Canadian forces from the Prisoner of War camp in Oberlangen, Germany, the very day that  President Roosevelt died.  We heard that sad news of the American President’s death just as we were happy and relieved to be liberated and free.  On April 12, 1976, my granddaughter Tali was born in Israel.  Now she is the mother of baby twins.  To me, a miracle of survival and continuity.

Not long ago I went a little too early to our library branch, and next to me was sitting a pleasant lady also waiting, and we started talking.  This is how I found out that there would be a garden tea party at a lovely home in the Village of Oak Creek very near where I live, to support the local Sinfonietta.

 

Both Alicia and I enjoyed it very much -  meeting  old and new friends - in  such breathtaking surroundings, listening to two ladies playing the violin and cello.  All the decoration, the preparation of scones with clotted cream and lemon curd, tiny sandwiches, and array of desserts, served on elegant china, even the serving of tea into our beautiful, dainty tea cups - all the work was done by volunteers!  A fashion show of hats and beautiful clothes added to the festive atmosphere. And of course everyone dressed in some kind of “garden party” attire.  I wore a turquoise handmade jacket with Native American motif that I had acquired at the famous La Posada Inn in Winslow, and wore a matching turquoise cowboy hat.

  

All this we would have missed had I not been too early before our library opened.

Speaking of “bashert” (meant-to-be), one seat next to me was vacant, and suddenly Joella Mahoney sat down there.  She is the woman painter I most admire in Sedona.  We talked and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company!

Wow - how can I be so lucky?!

  Blog #26 – Treasured Memories

Where have the years and decades flown? I know I am getting old because I started finding things from long ago, as I was cleaning out drawers full of memories, pictures, letters, and cards.

Pounds of paper got discarded, and still there is enough left for my children to throw away piles later!

One item in particular grabbed my eye: a note written on an envelope 70 years ago by Diana, a lady from the British army who visited our prisoner of war camp in Oberlangen, Germany, after liberation in April of 1945.  I had to go to the Polish Embassy in Belgium to get my original name back after I had been living under a false name with bought documents to save my life.  Only at the Polish embassy there could I get my original name of Bronislawa Felicja Kohn back so that I could then get a passport to go to the United States.  But where to stay when in Brussels? This kind lady, Diana, gave me the address of her aunt in Brussels who would offer me a place to stay.

Mme Witouk's address

Major Mersch, a Belgian liaison officer to Canadian and Polish  forces who found us at that camp and liberated us gave me the address of his wife in Boisfort, a suburb of Brussels, just in case I needed it.

    

So there I arrived in Brussels, soon after leaving the camp where just a few days before I had been sleeping on a straw mattress with a thin blanket.  

I came to Madame Helene Witouck’s palace in Brussels where I was given a lovely room, and slept in the most luxurious bed with a very fluffy, warm comforter, and took a bath  in a golden bathtub, the old-fashioned kind with animal legs, which stood in the middle of  a big room.  Unfortunately,  the old caretaker of the household was the only staff left since all the others had to join the army, and he had to go to sleep at 9 pm. 

So I was given a curfew of having to be home before 9 p.m.  

My first taste of freedom, and I couldn’t go out in the evening?!   

I wanted  to go out with Eric Langford Brook, a British Major who followed me from British  Headquarters and wanted to show me the lovely city, and take me out to dinner after all these years living in fear and danger.  So I had to leave elegant Madame and go to find the other address out in the suburb. What a delightful surprise: Simone Mersch, whom I called “my Belgian Mommy” received me like a loving relative.  I remember her saving a white roll for me for breakfast and telling her son, “Give that to Maria. She hasn’t had good food for a long time.” 

  

It is a long story but now I am reliving everything as I look through these old letters and photos.  Who will care for all this or know who these people are in the photos when I’m gone?  Well, it gives me pleasure now to look at them and remember.  Others will have to deal with all this stuff in the future.