I used to observe my mother’s skillful workmanship with great enjoyment — while she was making a new wig, or while she was weaving long strands of hair (bought from customers) into a net that she would later tie into a braid. I enjoyed watching her set her client’s hair or headpiece through a process called “finger-waving.” I was hoping that when I grew up I too would be as talented and skillful at wig making and hairdressing as she was, but my mother would joke that it was enough to have one such “big-shot” in the family. She and my father dreamed of sending me to the Real Gimnazye in Vilne and later to a university in England for my studies.
I loved to listen to the sweet melodies and words of the songs my mother would sing while she worked and as she sat on a chair next to my bed and lulled me to sleep. I also liked to hear her sing when she held me on her lap, with her cheek closely cuddled next to mine. The fragrant aroma from her lips practically put me under a magic spell. “Sing, mama”, I used to plead with her, “Sing: Yankele, In a Kleyn Shtibele, Margaritkes, Blondzhet mer-nit in der fintster, Amol iz geven a Mayse.” I became familiar with quite a number of Yiddish songs in this way, and loved them dearly. I heard that when my mother was a young girl, she too attended a Yiddish school, known as “Di Brider Ashkenazi” and that she sang in a choir called “Di Harfe” (The Harp).
I recall my mother’s active involvement in everyday activities affecting both our family and our school. We all found the city especially exciting during the time of our Annual Garden Fair, which served as a benefit for our “Medem Shul”. My mother devoted many hours toward selling admission tickets, raffles, or buffet tickets for this event. Most of the nearly two and a half million Jewish residents of Lodz looked forward with great anticipation to the garden fair – which featured shows for adults and for children, orchestras, marching bands, singing choirs, poetry readings, sportsmen from the Morgnshtern Sports Club performing acrobatics, and many other events going on at the same time in various parts of the park. Of great enjoyment to the children were the animals in the zoo. The parents, the children, and most of the others in attendance were all dressed in their finest clothing for the fair, and the whole atmosphere in the park was extraordinary. I have very vivid memories of sitting with my mother at the raffle-ticket table, and falling asleep in her lap with my head leaning on her shoulder as the festivities went on into the early morning hours.
My mother was actively involved with the organization “TOZ,” a Jewish society for the protection of child health. I have a strong recollection of her standing there, at a table — in all kinds of weather — to collect money during days devoted to TOZ. She would pin ribbons on the lapels of passing pedestrians, who, in turn, would throw coins and paper money into a plate on the table, and bless my mother for her important work for the worthy cause. At times, my mother would limp away for several hours (she had a stiff leg) to weigh and measure infants at the TOZ clinic, or to visit children in their congested homes. While there, she would inquire about their health, find out their living conditions, open up some windows to let in fresh air, check whether nursing mothers had enough milk in their breasts, and, if necessary, teach them how to sterilize bottles and prepare the formula milk she got for them (free of charge) from Kropla Mleka (Drop of Milk) program.
I also have a vivid recollection of my mother at special events of the Jewish Labor BUND (Jewish Social Democratic Movement), YAF(Jewish Working Women), and various cultural events. At times my mother would be on the dais on the stage, and I was either among the general audience or with other children on the side of the stage. From time to time, I would be running to my mother to sit next to her. She caressed me, kissed me on my head and begged me to return to my seat among the audience.
I also have recollections from my pre-school years of my mother visiting my kindergarten as a representative of the parents’ committee. She would often converse with my kindergarten teacher, Miss Anka Frishdorf; play with the children, and lecture us about the importance of a rest period during the day. I remember that one day, we gave a performance in my mother’s honor. I always felt both proud and embarrassed about her unique role to the kindergarten. It was truly rare for the other mothers to come to question and give advice.
To my mother all of these aspects of her life — her home, her family, the school, the TOZ, the BUND and YAF—were very significant, holy and cherished institutions.
My father spent most of his days in the factory. During the few years preceding the war, he worked for his cousins, and also had the responsibility of opening and closing the factory. He would leave the house early in the morning while I was still fast asleep, and usually returned when I was asleep or in bed ready for the night.
On Saturdays, my father spent most of his afternoons resting. At times, I used to sit on a stool next to his bed and watch him in deep sleep. He was a very handsome man – tall and distinguished, with lovely gray hair, a straight and slightly pointy nose, rather narrow lips, a high forehead, very long eyelashes and bushy eyebrows. I used to enjoy using the power of suggestion on him. I would stare fixedly at his eyes and wishing that he would open them – until my wish was fulfilled. It was enough that my father opened his eyes and looked at me momentarily. That made me feel victorious. Whenever time allowed, my father would take me for long walks in the park, including a visit to the playground. We would visit his relatives and he would treat me to my favorite cheese pastries. He would also teach me math, the German language and German poetry. He felt that “every cultured person should also know these important subjects.”
I heard individuals in the family say that when my father had returned from Germany, in 1920, he brought with him a high regard for the German culture—their language, poetry, science, music and philosophies. Originally, he was brought to Germany as a Russian prisoner of war, but when he was released from prison after WWI ended, he remained there to study. Whether he learned it from the Germans or was naturally a spotlessly clean person, he was said to be a “great pedant” — in terms of the way he dressed, hung up his clothes or kept his personal belongings. He also expected all of us to keep our own belongings in the same condition. What a tragedy it would have been if he only found something out of place or an ink-stain on one of our schoolbooks or notebooks! He never laid a hand on me or on my brothers, yet we were afraid of him. I suppose that we had great awe of him and were just afraid of his stare and disapproving shake of the head.
At times, my parents would dress up in exceptionally beautiful clothes and walk off to a wedding, Bar Mitzvah, the theatre or some political or cultural event. My mother was always ready first and had to wait till father made sure that there was no dust, stain, or thread left on his neat and perfectly fitting suit.
I was the youngest of three children. One brother, Shimon, was seven and a half years older than I was; the other brother, Elek, was six years older. Clearly, I was a pampered child. When I was ten years old, my mother still ran after me with a spoon trying to coax me to eat “at least one more spoonful of food. ” Everyone knew that I was a “poor eater.”
My brother Elek teased me at times. He would try out new wrestling moves on me that he had learned, but he always protected me from anyone that would attempt to insult or hurt me.
I was particularly fond of Shimon. He was a gorgeous looking young man, with strawberry-blond hair, blue eyes and a protruding Adam’s apple that I used to like to play with. I was insulted by the fact that he preferred to go on dates with strange girls, instead of taking me places. I made sure that he knew about how I felt about it. I seriously objected to his dates, but he thought that I was being funny and laughed.
Both my brothers and I attended a Jewish secular day school, which we all enjoyed dearly. The language of instruction there was Yiddish. That is: all the subjects were taught in the Yiddish language; the curriculum included the Yiddish language, Jewish and world literature, Jewish and world history, mathematics, geography, botany, nature, physics and chemistry, home economics, drawing and painting, music, hygiene, physical education. Whatever we studied, we studied in Yiddish. We also played in Yiddish, laughed in Yiddish, fought in Yiddish and cried in Yiddish. The only two subjects taught in Polish were the Polish language and Polish History, which was mandated by the government. In the highest grade, some subjects were taught both in Yiddish and Polish, so that the children would be familiar with the necessary terminology in both languages if they prepared to continue their studies after graduation in Polish institutes of higher education. In addition, our school was renowned for its beautiful shows and for its great contributions to national children’s art exhibitions.
•••••
Lodz is still there, but my world was wiped out –
My school and my home;
My guiding lights — forever extinguished,
But continuing to brighten my life.
Behind Lodz there are fields of Marysin;
Where in unmarked graves –
Numerous scattered graves of my treasures –
The shining lights I so loved and cherished.
The rest of my treasures were deported
And they were destroyed
In places now known to the world
as places of chimneys and smoke.
(to be continued…)
©2001 Fela Infeld Glaser and Marty Capsuto
©2009 First Look Marketing All Rights Reserved
Child In Captivity 