Your professorial

Rosalie

30 May 1938

Dearest Mama,

A letter from you! You have no idea how my heart pounded when, calling at the Main Post Office, I found the General Delivery clerk-who by now knows me well and is apologetically weary of disappointing me-smiling and holding out a letter as I approached his window. Oh, Mama, I sank onto a bench and opened it then and there! And though it’s nearly three weeks since you wrote it, I read and reread every word. I’m vastly relieved that you and Uncle Horst are well; and at the same time terrified to hear how things are at home. The speed and zeal with which our neighbors have taken up the Nazi cause is horrifying; your report of the destruction of Herr Baumberg’s shop and the treatment of his children made me ill. Mama, Mama, you must make every effort to stay out of sight, and to leave Austria as soon as possible!!!

You write that my stories of our travels bring you joy and relieve your worry. Very well, I’ll go on telling them, though the situation at home makes the hardships we’ve found seem so trivial. We are poor; we are crowded; we are hot and sometimes hungry. But many in China-the Chinese, Mama, whose country this is!-are much worse off than we. Yes, Shanghai has its own misery and perils. But Mama, please believe we’re well, as happy as possible under the circumstances, learning to negotiate our new home with daily increasing confidence. And we can walk down the street, not entirely without fear-I won’t lie-but at least knowing that any danger we encounter is encountered by all. We’re never menaced here solely because we’re Jews, and it breaks my heart to know that, in my beautiful Salzburg, this is no longer true.

Waiting eagerly for your next letter, and your arrival!

Your Rosalie

2 June 1938

Dearest Mama,

The tone of your letter and its awful news have been weighing on my mind, along with the uncertainty of your situation. Reading it when I first had it in my hands, I felt as if you were sitting beside me; but I can no longer ignore the fact that you wrote it weeks ago, and I have no real knowledge of today. I just pray-I pray, Mama, can you imagine?-that the thugs who found Herr Baumberg don’t find you, that you and Uncle Horst pass invisibly through your days until your train leaves for Dairen-or better still, that you’ve long since left Salzburg for an ocean crossing or an earlier train!

As you ask, I’ll continue my account of our days-because I have no other way of doing anything you ask. As I imagine my letter in your hands, I see you in the parlor, safe and comfortable; and so I’ll keep writing until I truly see you, hot, weary, and bewildered, as we all are, but here, in Shanghai.

So to the news: Mama, I’ve sold the ruby ring. Oh, it was a sad moment! To see it placed on velvet in a glass case, to catch a stranger’s eye. But I comfort myself the price of it will enable Paul to resume his schooling, and the two of us to find a measure of privacy and a life closer to normal. And the transaction was made less painful by the extraordinary kindness of the jeweler, a refugee himself. Presciently assessing the situation in his native Germany, he brought his wife and children to Shanghai five years ago. He understands we do not sell our possessions lightly. His patience and gentle good nature were reassuring, and the sum he offered fair. With it, Paul will soon return to his test tubes and electromagnets, and-with luck-I will find us a room with solid walls.

Be safe, Mama!

Your Rosalie

10 June 1938

Dearest Mama,

I apologize for my silence. For over a week I’ve been incapable of anything but collapse at the end of each day-but for many wonderful reasons! First: I’ve found a school for Paul. He’ll attend the Shanghai British School, to be educated in English-hurrah, Mama, for your insistence on “treasure Island” and “Robin Hood!” This good fortune was made possible by Grandmother Gilder’s ring; and by Kai-rong, who suggested the place, and, as an alumnus, had a word with the headmaster. (I believe, Mama, he was prepared to pay the school fees himself, but after I ignored his hints to that effect, he gave the subject up and waited until I told him we had the sum in hand.)

And equally important: We’ve found and moved to a place of our own!

I say “we,” but it was Paul’s doing, I having been a total failure at the project. Since a few days after our arrival here, Paul has been busy in an unexpected and enterprising way. Once we began somewhat to understand the city, he and I embarked upon serious negotiations, coming eventually to an agreement over where he may venture and which streets, on the other hand, he may under no circumstances cross. (I felt the dangers of Shanghai’s streets to be less than the dangers of being confined all through the day in the wretched Home; I hope you’ll agree.) The streets on which he is allowed he wanders daily, in the company of other boys. He returns with odd treasures-two fresh apples, a bicycle tire-for which he has traded yesterday’s treasures. Today’s will be assessed, and, if not eaten (and I believe if he put his mind to it he could eat a bicycle tire) will be taken tomorrow to some shop keeper of his acquintance who needs precisely that item and will offer in trade another item which Paul knows is needed at a shop across town. A yuan or two often finds its way into Paul’s pockets in the course of these transactions. The yuan is almost worthless, but with a pocketful of them certain items may be obtained: Yesterday, in celebration of our new home, Paul presented me with a single gingersnap! Mama, I was touched to tears. Something to which at home we gave not a second thought here becomes a gem to be marveled at. I did marvel; then I shared it with him, and in four bites it was gone. One does not save food in Shanghai. Refrigerators are unknown except to the wealthy, and too many of God’s creatures-flies, worms, mice, and rats-are as interested in your comestibles as you are.

Oh, but how far afield I’ve flown! But you see, flies and rats aside, I’m happy today, and want to share that happiness. Paul’s trading expeditions led to the discovery of the rarest treasure of all: a room to let. The owner of a typewriter shop in the International Settlement which he supplies from time to time with screws and bolts had lost a tenant, bound for Australia. As he remembered Paul inquiring about rooms, he telephoned to the Home requesting the honor of Paul’s presence. We set off immediately! The room in question is the rear of two above the shop, facing a courtyard used for cooking and washing, as I imagine we will use it. It is not large-nothing in Shanghai is large, Mama, nothing! with the exception of the banks and great villas-but it is irregularly shaped, with an alcove for a bed. So Paul and I will have privacy now not only from the population of the Home but, up to a point, from each other! We have a basin with cold running water and wonder of wonders, in the hallway, shared with the room at the front, a water closet! Indoor plumbing, whoever would have thought that something to aspire to? But the norm is a bucket, whose contents are taken off each morning by night soil collectors. So a flush toilet, shared with but one other family, is very heaven! The past days have been a matter of scrubbing and airing, of negotiating the price of beds, chests, and linens, of finding coolies to pile them on carts and push them through the streets. This morning we said our good-byes at the Home, with little regret. Friends we’ve made we’ll continue to see, and as for kasha soup, I hope never to see another bowl!

And Mama, it is Shabbos here. Though I do not expect to continue observances, it does seem fitting that on our rickety table in our odd-shaped attic I have set out the pewter candlesticks. I’ve sent Paul out with a few yuan for candles; when he returns, we’ll light them, and say a barucha, in thanks for our new home and in hopes to see you speedily in it!