One Eye Laughing, the Other Weeping (10 page)

I listened in absolute silence for the longest time, hoping I could feel His presence so that I would know that my prayer had been heard. But I could feel nothing, and the only sound was my own breathing.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20, 1938

Daddy was taken to the police station today. He was picked up while he was making some house calls. They made him stand there for hours with no food, water, or explanation, and then he was thrown into a van and taken to a huge army barracks and put in with hundreds of other poor souls.

They were made to run in between SS men who kicked them and struck them with their rifle butts. Daddy was lucky — others were taken somewhere else for interrogation.

MONDAY, APRIL 25, 1938

Daddy looks so tired and sad. His green eyes used to sparkle like he was just about to let you in on a big se-cret, but now they are dull and lusterless.

Three of his patients died from heart attacks this past week because of the hideous things they were forced to endure.

The Nazis patrol the streets constantly, and you can be picked up without warning and taken away at any time.

There is no use trying to hide. They have the names and addresses of all the Jews in Vienna. There are ru-mors that any day now they are going to go from house to house and send us far, far away.

Max has heard about camps just for Jews. His friend’s father returned from one of these camps but won’t say anything about it because he doesn’t want to be sent back.

People are starved there and some are killed as soon as they arrive.

This is the first time I have heard about any camps. Max heard about a lady who boarded a train carrying a small suitcase, which she took with her into the

WC. After a few minutes, she came out in a long, white wedding gown, calmly walked down the aisle smiling at everyone, and when she got to the end, walked in between the cars and threw herself off the speeding train.

FRIDAY, APRIL 29, 1938

Daddy still goes to the office every day, despite the risk.

He has lost some of his Gentile patients, although not all, because many of them know that Daddy is the best.

It is very dangerous for him to go to work, but there is no talking sense to him. He says his patients need him. Max goes out every night and that, too, is dangerous. Daddy doesn’t approve, and they argue, but Max ends up going anyway.

I have an easier time of it because I am blond. To be blond now is good. If you’re blond, you may walk in the streets without fearing for your life. If you’re blond, you don’t have to worry about what’s around every corner. If you’re blond, you can look someone in the eye and not be afraid of what you’ll see.

Although I do have to go get food at shops that are far from our apartment so they won’t know me, won’t know that I am Julie Weiss — Jew.

This morning a couple stopped their car and asked me if I wanted a ride. They both had gold swastika pins on their lapels.

I was going to run, but they were looking at me so adoringly that I realized they didn’t see the real me at all. All they could see were my Aryan looks and there-fore I was safe. I was invisible. Their foolishness made me bold and I got into the back seat.

On the way they told me that they have always wanted to have a girl, but they hadn’t been blessed with one yet. If they were, they hoped she would look just like me.

I told them they were embarrassing me and I actually blushed.

When we got to the store, I thanked them for the ride and they said, “Heil Hitler” and so did I.

On my way back from the grocer’s I saw a group of SS soldiers in their hideous black-and-silver uniforms pushing around a blind boy. They were in a circle pushing him from one to the other while tears of terror streamed down his poor little face.

I didn’t dare look for long and just scurried on my way.

The world I knew is collapsing all around me, and I can only stand by and look on in helpless horror and mute disbelief. There is nothing I can do.

SUNDAY, MAY 1, 1938

Daddy asked Max and me to sit down because he had something very important to talk to us about.

He said that Mother had written to Aunt Clara and Uncle Martin just before — that’s all he said — “just before”— and we understood.

I didn’t even know anyone knew where Aunt Clara and Uncle Martin lived in America. Daddy said that he and Mother had their address in New York City, and that if we are to leave Vienna we will need an affidavit from someone in America — someone who will vouch for us and assure the authorities that we will not be-come a burden to the American government.

If we don’t get an affidavit, we can’t get a visa, and if we can’t get a visa, we can’t get out of Vienna.

Daddy said we can’t stay here — it isn’t safe. The Nazis want all the Jewish people out of Vienna.

That’s why Mother wrote to them. I couldn’t believe Mother actually wrote to her sister. We were al-ways forbidden to even speak her name.

This is the first I have heard about any of this. About leaving. I don’t want to leave Vienna. This is my home. Daddy said Aunt Clara is a year younger than Mother, almost as pretty, and has been an actress since she was a little girl. There used to be all these
huge
scrapbooks around the house with Aunt Clara’s press clippings. Uncle Martin was a coin dealer when he lived in Vienna and in America he is a financier on Wall

Street.

I wonder if Wall Street is near Main Street?

Max only wants to go to Palestine. He says Jews are not wanted anywhere, and what’s happening now won’t stop until there’s a place for Jewish people to go. There must be a Jewish state if we are to survive.

Daddy thinks Max’s ideas are foolish and dangerous and that’s why they argue.

I don’t know what to think. Max’s beliefs are so strong and certain — at times I wish I could be like him. But I’m more like Daddy.

Some people are getting divorced just so the wife can get a job as a housemaid in England (they only

want unmarried women), then they can send for their husbands later.

People are desperate to find relatives in America who can send them the precious affidavits. Affidavit has become a magic word — it means life. Daddy says one of his patients has a copy of the New York City phone book so he can see if he has any relatives living there who can sponsor him.

TUESDAY, MAY 3, 1938

Max took Mother’s jewelry, her fur coats, and the gold watch Daddy gave him for his birthday to the pawnshop and came back with some money so I was able to get some food for dinner. He says we have used up all our savings. I don’t know what I would do if it wasn’t for him.

I am learning to mend our clothes as we haven’t any money to spare for new ones and even if we did, no one would sell any to us because we are Jewish. I made myself a very colorful scarf from a torn blouse that didn’t fit anyway and turned one of Max’s old jackets into a vest. I made him try it on — which he didn’t

want to do in the
worst way
— and then I made him ad-mit that it looked quite nice.

I couldn’t stop myself from giving him a hug and, much to my surprise, he hugged me back. A great, big hug, which, for the moment, made me feel safe and warm.

At least we’re better off than Sophy’s family. They burned down her father’s clothing store two weeks ago and now they have no money for food.

Her mother stands in line for hours each morning at the soup kitchen.

Yesterday Sophy said her mother came home with nothing. The Nazis drove up in their trucks, pushed over the tables, spilling the soup all over the floor, and then drove away laughing.

MONDAY, MAY 9, 1938

A synagogue in Leopoldstadt was burned to the ground today. It was filled with worshipers when someone threw a burning torch into the building — it’s a miracle only a few people were injured and no one was killed.

THURSDAY, MAY 12, 1938‌

Fear is everywhere.

It’s in the air I breathe. The water I drink. The food I eat. It’s on the tip of everyone’s tongue and can be seen in every eye.

MONDAY, MAY 16, 1938

Sophy is going to England!

Her parents are putting her up for adoption! That is the only way they can get her out of the country. They have no money and no affidavit.

It was dangerous for her to come to tell me, but she was afraid that we wouldn’t have a chance to say good-bye. She looks terrible. Her eyes are red from crying and she also doesn’t sleep because she is too afraid. She has lost weight and appears to be weak and listless, which is so unlike Sophy.

I am happy for her. Happy that she is going away from here, even though I will miss her terribly.

I wouldn’t want to go, though. I wouldn’t want to be separated from my family even if it meant I would be safe.

TUESDAY, MAY 17, 1938‌

Daddy spent another day waiting in line at the American Consulate near the Ring. It was just another disappointing day.

He’s gone by the time I get up because the lines start forming at dawn and go all the way around the block.

He says there are people there who applied for visas years ago.

There are so many documents you have to get: tran-sit visas, certificates of conduct, tax forms, and then each one has to be signed and stamped properly.

Sometimes it takes so long to get one of the documents that by the time you get it one of the others has expired, and you have to start all over.

And sometimes you can wait in line all day and when you finally see someone you are told you have filled out the form wrong or are waiting in the wrong line, and you have to begin the process all over again.

FRIDAY, MAY 20, 1938

Each day we hope for the affidavit from Aunt Clara and Uncle Martin. It has been weeks and weeks and

we have heard nothing. Daddy says we can’t even be sure they got Mother’s letter. He isn’t certain they are still at the same address or even if they’re still living in New York City. They might have moved and then we are waiting for nothing.
‌

TUESDAY, MAY 24, 1938

Mr. Heller bought boat tickets from some people who said they were document experts, but they turned out to be phony and now the Hellers are stuck. They have no money, no tickets, and Mr. Heller’s store is closed since there are no longer any books. On Sunday, a mob broke into the store, threw all the books into the street, and burned them in a huge bonfire.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 25, 1938

Even though Daddy has lost more patients recently, the ones who remain seem to be getting so sick as to make up for it.

FRIDAY, MAY 27, 1938‌‌

I’ve gotten used to being hungry. At first I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand it — that gnawing, empty feeling. But now I’ve gotten used to it, so it isn’t too bad.

SUNDAY, MAY 29, 1938

Daddy was up late again with papers spread all over the dining room table. I kept him company.

He said he heard a good joke while waiting in line today. An official told someone who was applying for a visa to come back in the year 2001, and the man who was applying asked if he should come back in the morning or the afternoon.

I don’t know how Daddy can laugh.

MONDAY, MAY 30, 1938

Sophy has left.

All at once I realize how much she meant to me. While she was here, in Vienna, I believed I could endure all that was happening, as horrible as it might