Continued from America, here we come!
And forever in the background of my mother’s memory lurks the image of Adolph, whom, much to her disdain, she was expected to address as “Uncle” Adolph. Herman’s friendship with Adolph Levi is documented in a formal studio photograph taken in 1903 with Adolph posed between brothers Herman, 21, and Willy, 18. Mother muttered that Adolph and her father had sworn a blood oath to each other. Was she serious? Isn’t that something ten-year-old boy scouts do when they run out of home-made explosives to play with? I struggle to imagine my stern grandfather swearing a blood oath to anyone. Why would he do that? What on earth could compel him to such an agreement? He treated family with the utmost responsibility. I would consider such an oath superfluous in the larger context of my grandfather’s character.
But it was “Uncle” Adolph who accompanied my grandmother and mother across the ocean in 1924. Why wasn’t Herman with them?
~~
If Mother had doubts about leaving family, friends, and home, she kept them to herself. Instead, she capitalized on the adventure at hand. From her hospital bed 67 years later, in her stilted cadence, she recalled the excitement.
I loved the adventure. I explored all the nooks and crannies of the ship. I was on deck as much as possible. There were games I’d never played before. And a wonderful swimming pool which fascinated me. I asked the crew all sorts of questions. They responded kindly. Occasionally I’d get a special tour. Below deck, everyone was sick. It smelled bad down there. It was dark and nasty. I tried to get Mother to join me in games upstairs, but usually she just lay on her bunk feeling and looking green.
Mother paused, gathering the past—and her breath.
Thank God I had my cat. Poor Pussy. She was sentenced to her tiny cage. But I lugged it around with me. I wanted to show her the sights. Poor thing almost missed the boat.
Another pause. Her sentences were truncated and uncharacteristically flat, with long pauses between them, as if the simple task of talking zapped all her strength.
We were in Hamburg. Waiting for our departure. I opened her cage . . . to show her the fancy cars and the people all dressed to the nines. Pussy wasn’t impressed. The bedlam scared the bejeezus out of her.
Now that’s a bit more like the mother I know, I thought as my fingers raced across the keys to record her memories.
When she saw that door open, she dashed for freedom. She disappeared under the nearby trolley. There were some warehouses on the other side of the trolley. I pulled mother with me and ran over there. We started knocking on doors. Mother was beside herself. She chastised me for my stupidity. ‘WE WILL NOT MISS OUR BOAT for the sake of your cat!’ Finally, time was up. Mother insisted that we return to the dock. I begged her to try just one more door. There, unbelievably, we found poor Pussy huddled into a tiny ball in a dark corner of the attic.
Lynz Real Cooking said:
What an amazing story and photos!!! Love this ongoing story!
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rangewriter said:
Thanks, Lynn!
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Lynz Real Cooking said:
love this story!
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Janes Heartsong said:
What precious memories! The escape scenes with Pussy had me holding my breath!
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rangewriter said:
Thank you Jane. I appreciate the feedback!
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Glenda Hornig said:
What an adventure for her. She was a beautiful little girl. The pictures are great.
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rangewriter said:
Yes she was. I can’t imagine why I could never see her beauty when I was younger. I have a whole different appreciation for a lot of things now.
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Keith said:
Linda, I love her exploration of the ship, with cat in hand. I can imagine just to get away from the stifling sickly smell. Great pictures as well. Thanks, Keith
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rangewriter said:
Thanks, Keith. Yes, someone in my heritage had a nice touch with a camera. And those were taken back in the day when you really had to understand the mechanics of your camera.
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rangewriter said:
BTW, at one point, I had expanded her exploration of the ship quite a bit. But I cut all that. I was afraid it would slow down the pace of her journey. Do you think I should consider putting it back in?
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Keith said:
Sure.
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thefeatheredsleep said:
These pictures and the excellent accompanying story are SO BRILLIANT! I don’t think the modern world could EVER be a patch on the past!
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rangewriter said:
Haha, Brilliant? Well, well…thank you. I surely agree about the modern world vs the past. However, our world does come with a host of challenges that our ancestors never dreamed of. 😉
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Robert Matthew Goldstein said:
I love this post.
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rangewriter said:
Thank you Robert! You just made my heart sing.
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Otto von Münchow said:
What an experience that must have been back in those days. Those photos are precious and so beautiful. Something for us to think about these days when we shoot in all directions without much thought to what we captured. Beautiful snippets f story telling by Mother. 🙂
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rangewriter said:
Thank you very much Otto!
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beeorganizedwithpamela said:
I love reading this type of story. The courage and determination of your folks is outstanding. Thanks for sharing.
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rangewriter said:
Thanks, Pamela. I’m glad you enjoyed this. To be honest, I think my family had it pretty easy compared to others who came and are still coming with far fewer resources and traveling in steerage. I can’t imagine. That said, I do believe my ancestors were made of pretty stern stuff. 😉
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beeorganizedwithpamela said:
Right. Oh the stories they have to tell.
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Frank said:
I could not refrain from commenting. Very well written!
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rangewriter said:
Thank you, kindly Frank. I’m glad you did not refrain.
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moondustwriter said:
Lovely pictures – Im glad she kept them over the years. You could tell that kitty meant alot to her. Very nice story telling.
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rangewriter said:
After she died, I came home with two, trunk-sized boxes of letters and photos. I left more than that for my sister. I hadn’t even looked through them. Just grabbed and ran. I’m so glad I did. I wonder what treasures there were in the other boxes. (Sis & I don’t exactly communicate. I don’t even know if she took them or pitched them.)
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Iris Blaisdell said:
Yes, I got the blood brother story too, but I believe it, remember, this was years ago and they were pretty young, even today, people will do a lot for their close friends as we’ve discovered with our sons. I believe that Adolf had something to do with the money and the business connections in New York. You don’t just come as an immigrant, start a shellac business and live in a thirteen room house with double lot and fish pool and tennis court and a three car garage and servants without someone funding it.
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rangewriter said:
Iris, it’s nice to hear from you.
Yes, I’m interested in the details of the stories as you remember them and as you’ve researched them, since it sounds as if you’ve invested considerable time and energy into visiting family and historic locations. This is the story of my life with my mother but the background is critical to understanding motivations and reasons for the woman she became, so your insights and memories would be helpful.
I’d particularly welcome any insights you have into Adolph. Why in hell did our grandfather trust this man with his wife and child for such long periods of time while he galivanted around the world on “buying trips?” I’ve often wondered if there was some measure of political intrigue involved.
I would of course not expect you to communicate personal family stories via blog comments. My email address hasn’t changed. linda@rangewriter.biz
Hope the play was good. Wishing you a fine holiday.
Linda
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