A Day In Lodz, Poland 1941(Sieglinde P Young) Paula and Maria walked along Ulica Pomorska toward Ulica Piotrkowska, renamed Adolf-Hitler-Street, the main thoroughfare through Lodz, with smart apartment buildings, hotels, cabarets, and the finest shops in town on either side.

“The Party Leaders changed most of the street names shortly after we arrived,” Maria said. “We’ll try for a cup of coffee at the Astoria Café." After they’d ordered, she whispered, “This café was popular with actors, writers, politicians and teachers, mostly Jewish, until the Gestapo came along to break up their cozy gatherings. They sat over there.” She waved languorously at a large round table. “One day the SS entered, shot up the magnificent chandelier and arrested Lodz intelligentsia present. They took them to Gestapo headquarters then shortly thereafter drove them to a remote site in the nearby woods and executed all fifteen.”

Paula shivered. Her eyes strayed toward the empty table with a white tablecloth and a vase filled with a bouquet of Forget-me-nots. “Can we talk about something pleasant?”

Maria’s gaze followed Paula’s. “Someone is very brave.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I am cleansing my soul by telling you all the horrible stuff that has plagued me since arriving in Litzmannstadt. I am transferring everything onto your shoulders.” Her brilliant blue eyes glistened.

“You don’t think about my welfare?”

“You have your children and I believe you don’t internalize matters the way I do. Would you ever take your own life, Paula?” Maria scrutinized her.

“Never! I have too much to live for.”

“You see. I was near to ending my life before you came. If I should ever overburden you with my sorrow let me know. I feel so much more like a Mensch already then I did a few days ago.”

“I have five sisters,” Paula said. “I am close to all of them but to two especially. I can empty my heart anytime. I am lucky.”

“You have secrets?”

“Hmm, a few maybe.”

“Some day you must tell me,” Maria laid her smooth, elegant hand over Paula’s on the table. “I’m so glad we’ve become friends. Tell me more about your family.”

Paula talked of her home in Prussia, the animals and her happy childhood. Maria needed to dwell on different themes and joyful times. She asked her about her past and how she chanced into the movie industry. But instead of perking up, Maria sat with her elbows on the table and let her head rest in her hands.
“That was so long ago.” She sighed. “I have tried to forget my past. The only bright star is my husband Rolf. My Rolf has the patience and understanding of a saint. If I had known what Litzmannstadt would be like, I probably would have killed myself before we came.”

“It isn’t so bad. A bit gritty and gray. I consider it a transitory situation I can abide by, you should too.”

“Not for me and Rolf. We are in prison. We can’t leave.” With a look of utter desolation she said tonelessly. “We’d just arrived in exile. I was out shopping when the German Housing Department in charge of ejecting Jewish families from their apartments, especially here in the Adolf-Hitler-Strasse which represented the upper echelon, became enraged at their unhurried departure. The evictions were going too slowly. They stormed the homes, harangued and beat and murdered about two hundred of them. Simply because they moved too slowly. Shot them. They weren’t the only ones shot that day. It was a rampage.” She shuddered. “I heard the shots fired. Bang, bang, bang. I counted them and hear them every day. I knew each shot meant that someone crumbled. Dead.” Maria lowered her elbows, laid her arms on the table and sobbed softly.

Paula reached across the table and stroked her hands. “Did you tell Rolf about witnessing this?”

“No. He has his own sorrows. You know, we all have so many faces. I wonder sometimes when we’ll use them all up. Maybe not until we die, then the last one, gray and bloodless is finally revealed. My memories cling to me like seaweed, no matter how often I dunk my head under water to allow them to float free, when I come up, they are still there.”

Paula waved to the waitress. “Do you have Vodka?”

“Ja, natürlich.”

“Ein Glässchen für die Dame, bitte. No, make it two. You have such dark thoughts ... drink these then let’s get out of here.”

Maria pushed the glass listlessly back and forth then nodded and drank. “Before you came, I lived in a sort of somnambulism where I sometimes saw instead of red brick factories, red brick castles perched on cliffs surrounded by pale green forests. A flock of white peacocks perched on the steps, terraces and windows. When moonlight shone through the embrasures of the windows they looked like white souls of the departed dressed in bridal gowns and long white shrouds.
“In my dreams I saw a fairyland. And then ... then I heard the shots. The white peacocks lay on the ground, all dead. It awoke me and I thought, will I hear this for the rest of my life?” Maria gazed at Paula with her electric blue eyes. “Will I?”

“Oh Maria.” Paula walked around the table, hugged Maria and kissed her brow. She lightened her voice to get away from their dark discussion. “Let’s get out of here and see if we can find food for dinner.”

Loaded down with a couple of string bags each, they trudged toward home. Feeling her hip act up Paula stopped, set down her bundles and looked around. “Are we on the same road we took earlier?”

“No. We are walking past the ghetto. I wanted you to see the ghetto.”

“Do you want to add to your misery?” Paula asked. “Now that you shared your darkest moments you should stop punishing yourself. You must let it go and allow me to help you carry your burden.”

“I wish it were so easy.”

They watched a hugely pregnant woman shuffle a few steps at a time then stop and touch the building’s wall to her left. Her shoulders heaving, she lumbered on a few more steps then leaned against the wall again.

“Is there a hospital nearby?” Paula asked.

“Further down,” Maria waved, “a health station but they probably all have cataracts.”

Paula stared at Maria not comprehending then understanding, she grimaced. “She’s about to pop. We must help her. Is there any way through this barbed wire? Why don’t those people standing around over there help her?”

“They are new arrivals waiting in line for their armbands. If they don’t wear the yellow Star of David they receive sentences of eight to ten months in prison. Can you imagine what that’s like? You can’t go in there, Jewish territory. There she goes.”

The woman screamed, slumped to the sidewalk and lay still.”

A young man in line with a crutch under one arm hobbled toward her. He leaned over, checked her pulse, then straightened slowly. He shook his head and hobbled back to await his turn for the star.

“The baby, maybe they can save the baby,” Paula rattled the fence. “The baby, take her to the clinic, she shouted.”

The people in line stared at her listlessly then concentrated on their scruffy shoes. Maria, tears streaming down her cheeks, pulled at Paula’s arm. “Come away. If you interfere there’ll be shooting.”

“But, but....” Paula’s eyes glistened.

“The baby will be better off staying with its Mutti. Let’s go home.”

Reluctantly Paula turned away from the scene. They picked up their string bags and, averting their eyes, walked away from the barb wire, from the Jewish Quarter, its smell of fear, into fresh air.

“Why did you take me this way?” Paula glared at Maria.

“I didn’t know the woman would be there.” Her voice sounded snippy and irritated. “It’s the shorter way home.”

When they arrived at Paula’s front door Maria said, “Thank you for listening.”

Paula frowned and wondered about Maria’s sudden mood shift. She watched her trudge like an old woman up the staircase. What could she do to ease her pain? The next morning she wrote Ella and Gretel a letter asking for advice. But their suggestions would not be needed. Rolf discovered the next morning that Maria had escaped the seaweed.

---