Schatze and I were bored.
But the adults were
Always
Looking out the window
And waiting for a knock
On the door.
A Knock on the Door
One night
In March 1940,
Father Josef
Came to our house.
It was snowing and raining,
Making the roads icy.
Mother sat him by the fire
And gave him a glass of hot cider.
He smoked a long pipe.
After he warmed up
His thin face was still pale
And his hands were shaking.
He told my parents
To put me back in bed with Clara
Before he spoke with them.
I went to my room as I was told.
But many years later
My mother told me what he said.
That was the night
Terror came into our home.
Although I was so young,
I knew that moment
Was a dividing line
Between my childhood
And whatever came next.
The Story of Anny Wodl
Father Josef had visited Austria.
He met a woman named Anny Wodl.
She told him this story.
"I bore a Disabled child in 1934.
He had trouble walking and talking.
The doctors could not tell me the cause
Of his disability.
I didn’t know if he was suffering.
I put him in an institution
When he was four years old.
I became aware of the policies against
Disabled people.
I was afraid for my son’s life.
The Austrian authorities
Would not help me,
So I appealed to Berlin.
A man named Dr. Jekelius
Contacted me.
He made it clear
That he agreed
With the Nazis’ policies.
I realized then
That my son
Was going to die.
I begged Dr. Jekelius
To make his death
Quick and painless.
He promised me.
But later
When I saw his corpse
He had a pained look on his face.
Most people I knew
Disapproved
Of these actions
But they were
Too afraid to say so.”
Father said
He’d never heard
Such a terrible thing
In his life.
He made a vow
To protect me
At the expense
Of his own life.
Father Josef said my father was noble
But that he couldn’t protect me in my home.
In time,
The Nazis would look for me and find me there.
Father Josef told my parents
That he would take me with him and hide me
In a safe place
Until the end of the war.
My family was heartbroken,
But they agreed to let me go.
I packed
A few
Of my
Favorite things
In a shawl
Grandmother knitted:
A teddy bear named Emma,
A spool of brown thread and a needle,
An old fairy tale book with the story
Of Hansel and Gretel,
And my pocket-size pad and pencil.
We all exchanged hugs and kisses.
It was the hardest thing
I ever had to do,
But I tried not to look back.
I fell asleep next to Father Josef. He had a
Blanket over his lap. He tucked it around me
As he drove his car out of our secluded town.
The movement of the wheels under my seat
Soothed me like a lullaby.
I awoke in a barn
Covered with straw
And a woolen blanket.
The moon
Was still visible in the sky.
I felt a pit in my stomach.
I was hungry.
I cried when I remembered
I had left my family behind.
Soon, a lady appeared in the doorway
She waved for me to follow her into the big house.
I sat at the kitchen table and
She gave me bread and milk.
She made certain movements with her fingers
And took my hand to do the same thing.
She was trying to teach me
The official sign language alphabet of the Deaf.
I learned to make the letters on one hand;
It’s called finger-spelling.
She also taught me word signs for the objects
I saw in the house and garden:
Chair, bed, book, tree, grass, rabbit.
Language is a key.
I felt so many doors were opening to me.
The lady in the doorway was Stephanie Holderlin.
Stephanie Holderlin
Was a retired schoolteacher.
She lived alone on a farm.
She knew Father Josef
And agreed to hide me.
She didn’t agree with T4.
She kept books in her attic
That had been banned
And burned by the Nazis.
She had a Deaf pupil once.
She learned to use
German Sign Language
So she could teach him.
Not only did she teach me
To sign,
But I learned
To be brave
From her.
I put on Stephanie’s lipstick
Staring into the oval mirror
On her vanity table.
It was a dark shade of red,
Sort of like the wing
Of a cardinal,
Or a fancy automobile.
I undid my hair.
It had a natural wave.
I noticed
I was getting
Little yellow hairs
In my armpits
And on my privates.
Another Knock on the Door
It was three in the morning and
The Gestapo was at the door!
By that time I had stopped
Sleeping in the barn.
I was curled up
On a pile of feather beds
In Stephanie’s spare bedroom.