A Voice from the Past - Mr. Jankowski's Letter

A few weeks ago I was given the opportunity to translate a letter from German into English. I always appreciate the chance to exercise my translation muscle so I accepted the task, but not without some anxiety as it was letter from a prisoner at Buchenwald concentration camp to his wife. I was concerned that I might not able able to do it justice, but felt it was important to give it a go.

It was shared with me by the letter's owner, someone who purchased it from a collector of such items with the request to translate, out of curiosity as to it's content. I have found this to be a remarkable opportunity to engage with history in a visceral and concrete way and I felt that sharing this (with the owner's permission) would be a good way to shed light for students of history and genealogy. Perhaps this person's remaining family members may even find it one day.

Here is the translation of the letter into English and my transcription of it in German below that, from Jankowski's handwriting in German. In this translation I have tried to convey the language of the letter as best I can in the hope that it is less of a transliteration and more a representation of a note to a family member.

Letter from Prisoner in Protective Custody, Leschek Jankowski
in Concentration Camp Weimar-Buchenwald
dated January 3, 1943

Dear Sofi and Zorinka,
I received your parcel with heartfelt thanks. It is hard to express my deepest appreciation and I can't describe how grateful I am.

In spite of this dear Zorinka, I ask you to please not send me any parcels.

I can understand your situation but you should not waste a single minute to send them to me, because it's really not important.

Tell Aunt and Uncle that I have also received their package and it's contents with deep appreciation.

Dear Zori! On the occasion of your birthday, I send you all my best and good wishes. I want you to stay healthy so that one day we will see each other again and then our longing for each other will be at an end. Our darling little daughter should remain the symbol of our deep love.

Happy New Year greetings to all my family and friends. I've received so many letters from you all, but as of now I have received no news from my brothers. Please also send me news of Heinrich and Forenski and send them my greetings. The next letter (I write) I will send to uncle and aunt.
Greetings, kisses and deepest longing, your dear Leschek
________________________________________________________
Here is my best attempt to transcribe his writing, some of the words I had a hard time deciphering the handwriting on. I've written it out as it appears to me, but the words may appear nonsensical to those who know German.

Lieber Sofi und Zorinka,
Sowohl euren brief wie das Pakete habe ich mit herzlichen dank erhalten. Es fallte mir schwere meine grossen Dankbarkeit mehligen aus danek nur zur verheilen, und wie wir geschmackt hat brauche ich wohl nicht zur schildern.

Trotzdem liebe Zorinka, bitte ich Dich nun sie aus keinerlei pakete zu schicken.

Ich kann mich in Eure Lage hineinstellen und Ihr sollt euch nicht von einigen Minute absparen um mir zu schicken denn es ist wirklich nicht notwendig.

Onkel und Tante teile bitte mit das ich ihre Pakete mit inhalt ebenfalls mit grösser dankbarkeit erhalten habe.

Liebe Zusier! Anlasslich deines Geburtstages wie auch des Neuen Jahres meine beste und besondere herzliche grüsse wunsche entgegen mögst Du mir recht lange gesund am Leben erhalten bleiben, auf das wir uns einst wiedersehen und unsere grosse Sehnsucht endlich gestillt werde.

Unser lieber Töchterchen möge weiter das Symbol unsere grossen Liebe bleiben. Herzliche Neujahrswünche sende ich auch meiner ganzen Familie und Bekannten. Soviel Briefe habe ich von Euch schon erhalten, aber bisher habe ich nichts von meinem Brüder keinen Nachrichten.

Bitte schreib mir auch etwas über Heinrich und Forenski die ich alle recht herzlich grüssen lassen. Den nächsten Brief werde ich weiter an Onkel und Tante richten. Verbleibt mir also alle recht herzlich gegrüßt und geküsst im grosser Sehnsucht nach Euch.
Deiner Liebe Leschek
_____________________________________________

This letter prompted some cursory research on my end to try to find more about Mr. Jankowski and the context of his situation. Perhaps with some deeper scholarship and a little luck, his fate might be learned.

Buchenwald was described as a work camp rather than designed purposefully for extermination and some people did survive it, though of course the harsh conditions and enforced labor took its toll on many. A segment of prisoners were indeed brutalized and experimented upon, but I would like to hope that Mr. Jankowski was not one of them.

The facts obvious right away are that he had a wife and young daughter, an aunt and uncle whom he was close and at least two brothers or possibly two friends/colleagues, which he mentions by name. His German seems to be that of a native speaker, but his Polish surname makes me think he could have been an ethnic Pole in Germany. Reichs prisoners were required by law to communicate with their families solely in German so this may have been a dictated letter - the hand-writing may not even been his. Minority rights for Poles in Germany were revoked by in February 1940 and their property was confiscated. Zorinka is a Czech female name, so perhaps his wife was from the Sudentenland. Jankowski is the 13th most popular surname in Poland.

As to his ethnic status, I am unaware if he was a Jew. In October 1942 all of Buchenwald's Jewish prisoners were deported to Auschwitz except for 204 essential workers, yet the chances of him being one of these is slim. Jankowski was a prisoner in "Protective Custody", a catch-all phrase used to incarcerate Jews as well as Social Democrats, Communists, Liberals, Freemasons, Jehovah's Witnesses, clergy who opposed the Nazis, members of national opposition movements, non-Germans in general after Germany began to occupy Europe, and any others whose behavior -- real or perceived -- could be interpreted as politically motivated opposition.

He doesn't mention Christmas, which would have been a few weeks prior to the letter being written. It's absence could indicate his religion as Jewish -- or not. Perhaps the New Year could have been reason enough for him to receive packages from family. It is unclear.

I think the best chance of learning more about him would be to access the records of Buchenwald since his Prisoner number 7073 and cellblock 38D, are both clearly listed on his letter. Perhaps other records would indicate his ethnicity.

The printed section on the stationary are instructions to the prisoner and recipient of the letter which I didn't spend the time translating since they didn't hold much information of interest to me. The last few sentences however stick in my mind: Der Tag der Entlassung kann noch nicht gegeben werden. Besuchen im Lager sind verboten. Umfragen sind zwecklos. Release dates cannot be given. Visits to the prison are forbidden. Requests are useless. Very Kafka-esque in it's finality.

The things that stood out for me in the content of the letter was that he indicated he'd gotten multiple letters and parcels from family members -- not something I would have expected for someone in a camp. I found his choice of words that their small daughter, who would stand as the "symbol" of their love, particularly tender and poignant. I wonder who Heinrich and Forenski were - they were clearly important enough to him to ask about. The letter had no envelope so I have no idea where it was sent to, that would have helped. I don't know the condition of the paper since it was scanned and sent to me as a PDF document.

I would like to hear from other people who might know anything of the details of this letter and it's historical context. If anyone has researched individual prisoners, I'd be interested in learning how you went about it. I don't want this man to be forgotten.

Image detail from a 1944 German postcard from the McMaster University digital collection of concentration camp correspondence.

Give Lefty a Hand

A few weeks ago, I broke my left hand. The 4th metacarpal bone to be exact. I am (thankfully) right-handed, but my buddy Lefty does quite a lot to help move things along.

A few hours after. All my fingers are extended in this photo, except the broken one.

Metacarpal fractures are common injuries that account for 30-40% of all hand fractures. They most often involve the 5th (pinky finger) and/or the 4th metacarpal (ring finger) and are also known as boxer’s or bar-room fractures.

This is from the next morning. It does look like I got into quite the kerfuffle doesn't it?

Typing, Holding things, Many household chores, Bathing, Dressing, Cooking, these are all things that are slightly more challenging to do without Lefty.

How did it happen? Dog walking. The short of it is that I was not present in that moment. I had a gazillion little distractions. I was monkey-minding (something we all fall into from time to time). With a little help from Dingo the dog.

I’m fortunate in that the things I am presently committed to – work, meetings, etc. I have been able to either walk to, get a ride to or Skype myself in to. At work, my intern very kindly offers to take dictation. My clients are often surprised, “Oh no! What happened??” Sometimes I like to say, “Well, I was wrestling a wolverine…” or perhaps more believably, “I caught an edge snowboarding...”

Unfortunately they didn't offer a Carolina Blue cast...

Not surprisingly, I’ve really increased my speed and accuracy in one-handed typing. I’ve revamped my meal plans for items that are soups, casseroles and stews; recipes that can be made with pre-chopped vegetables, meat and a lot of stirring. We have feasted on paella and enjoyed a chocolate pavlova dessert. The Crock Pot is seeing more action. The stand mixer and food processor have never been busier.

Soon the cast will come off, but the lesson has been learned. Dingo reminds me, in her goofy, awkward, “ding a ling” way, that I must be present and patient in all of life’s moments. Even the seemingly mundane ones such as dog walking. I have said before, that dogs are our bodhisattvas in fur and this was revealed to me again in an eye opening (and bone breaking) moment.

And Dingo is her Name-O

Yes, ladies and gents. The New Dog has a name.

Dingo.

And yes, I've heard all the "ate my Bay-Bay" jokes, enough now. She does look at bit like a dingo, it's true but I think she might be a Belgian Malinois-yellow Lab mix.

She is a lovely girl. More confident now being left on her own. Very excited to play with a tennis ball and loves a flying disc - in fact she has shredded a few already. We think she is younger than 2 because she's still teething a bit.

She seems an excellent candidate for agility and/or flyball and I can't wait to try her out with that.

The Dog with No Name

We adopted a dog this weekend from a shelter in Los Angeles. Witness the satisfied customer above, taking her first contented dog nap.

We'd seen her mugshot on the shelter's website and thought she looked like a good dog.  She was in a kennel with 2 other dogs about her size. When we approached she was nibbling on the others to prevent them from coming close to us. Not in a very aggressive way, but more like puppy gnawing on them as if to say - nope, these are MY people!

She seemed a little freaky when they moved her from the kennel to the outdoor space where we could see her alone, but she calmed down a bit and we decided that for a shelter dog, she seemed very mellow. We walked her around the block at the shelter and were pleased to notice she was an OK leash walker but needed a little practice.

She rode home well in the car, seemed relaxed and when we got her home we spent some time walking in our fenced back yard with her off leash. We came inside and she explored around then we took her for a walk around the neighborhood, again giving her more leash practice time. She's VERY interested in cats! Other dogs don't seem to rate much interest, nor do children, people on bikes or loud trucks.

She arrived at the shelter Dec 17, they estimated about 2 years old and pregnant. She was handed in by her former owner. She left micro-chipped and spayed. I'm glad she was spayed, but I wonder what happened to her pups.

She is very relaxed for a new dog. I think she is just relieved to be at a house, without other dogs and the smells and the drama that is inherent in a shelter. She has demonstrated to us she is house-trained and she enjoys her brisk walks in the neighborhood. She is getting much better on lead but still has some separation anxiety. She doesn't know it but when I go out for a while today she's getting a nice puzzle chew toy with treats inside. I hope she likes it because she's not terribly food motivated. In fact she hasn't eaten much since she's been with us. Her low food interest and worm problem will be addressed at her vet appointment.

For a shelter dog, she is surprisingly mellow and well-behaved. She's been one of the easiest dogs I've ever encountered.

Name-wise we've had a few ideas - but so far she remains without an official moniker.

Dear Old Mrs Dogger

Though it has been more than a year since you departed this world, I still have moments where I think of you.

Hiking in Runyon Canyon last weekend was one of them. I remembered the sheer joy on your face as you yodeled to me from the back of the car. You knew where were were going as soon as I turned onto Franklin to park. I remembered that day we ran into Cesar Milan with his pack of pitbulls up there. That time that you resolutely decided to not walk a step further and it took several of us in turns to carry you down the hill, then straight to the vet where suddenly you were "fine".

You greeted me every morning without fail as though it were the happiest moment you'd ever experienced. You taught me so much about living in the moment because you embodied the joy of the Now. You were loving and kind to everyone equally. You tolerated the loving tugs of enthusiastic small children on your ears and tail without a grumble, just a deft sidestep. I watched you sleep and dream. I knew all your groans, moans, barks, growls and yodels. You spoke clearly yet without words. You taught me about love and family, about life and death. You provided solace in grief, nurturing in illness, abundance in emptiness. You were my furry bodhisattva.

I'd like to get another dog but as I know it will never be the same without you -- I hestitate. Still, when you entered my life, I had not planned for nor expected you. You were just there one day and it felt as though you had always been. When you fell into a deep puppy sleep in my lap the afternoon I drove us home, my heart opened to receive your love in a way I had never experienced.

One day, perhaps another being like you will join me on the road of life. In the meanwhile I will gratefully accept your presence in my memories and your appearance in my dreams for the precious gifts they are.

Momma

I've been thinking a lot in the past 72 hours.
Monday night my mother had a heart attack.
She survived it, but remains in intensive care.
I went tonight after work (yes I am working again, more on that in a future post) to see her and I climbed in the bed with her and lie there, just talking to her.
I told her about my day, about my plans, about my friends. I told her many things that had been hard for me to say to her before and she was very clear-headed and she listened to me. She looks better than she has in weeks.
But in case anyone is reading this, it's why I haven't posted in a few days.

It's exhausting to deal with all this and really depressing to see how the elderly are discounted in this country. After leaving Momma back in intensive care, I was waiting for the elevator and I struck up a conversation with a man in a white lab coat who had silver insignia bars on his lapels. I asked him about them and he told me he was an army nurse. I suggested that he was probably glad to be in the US and not in Iraq or Afghanistan. No he replied, he'd prefer to be back there, with his guys. I wasn't surprised, this is a common sentiment amoung the military to want to get back to their unit. The bonds are very strong. He then elaborated, telling me that he felt he was doing more good overseas, tending to the wounded there. He was helping his "guys". I nodded, I could relate to that. Then he said, "Because you know, here, it's mostly old people in hospital. And they've already lived their lives and had their chance." The elevator arrived and I got on. I thought to myself, he has no idea what he just said, but I had to admit his comment really hit me hard. This is how America views the elderly; as useless objects that take up space. Schrecklich.