Monthly Archives: July 2017
Just the other day Lara had found a notebook in the attic, it was on the bottom of an old suitcase, it had yellowed and a little crumpled. On one of the sheets she saw the name Franz Lang written, Lara tried to paste it together, maybe it would make sense who that man was and why she should have brought it with her, she became curious and wanted to find out he is was and why would she actually had it.Who is Franz Lang? Maybe she will finally…..
I have been trying so hard to bury this chapter of the dire days in my life, but have not had the strength to “dig a hole deep enough” to do so. I will filter my experience through the eyes of little Lara, just like I did in my book. I will help Lara to ” dig the hole deep” enough in hope to be able to plant beautiful flowers on of the mount.—-The different sounds of the war had…..
My memory of the agonizing drumbeat during the journey of my plight in WW ll never seem to fade. I tried to write them down,but had to stop, they became too emotional, yet I felt that the story had to be heard, had to make people realize and remind of the Nazi odious tyranny that swept across my country, Latvia, and rest of Europe, how it disparaged all people on their “March of Death.” The WW ll has ended decades…..
It had rained for a few days; my garden looked lovely and so welcoming. Sitting on the patio I watched the sun go down, casting its golden rays through the majestic cedars, the flowers spread lovely fragrance over the whole garden. Dusk was approaching with its magical tranquility. A flock of Canada Geese were squawking so loud, while flying north, supposedly trying to find new feeding ground, I love these birds, they always seem so organized, so protective of their young, so dignified……
Many years have gone by, many experiences added, many lessons learned. I keep counting my blessings for having had strength, never loosing faith and having had the courage to follow my dream. It has been a lone walk, many hurdles to overcome; I never felt lonely, I was so blessed having my music. I still remember the pain, the dreadful scenes of the WW ll, it devoured all that was dear to me, my three pianos, my books, my home, my brother,…..
I had been sitting on a pile of books for hours, watching the clock that was in no hurry to move faster, maybe I wanted it to stop, the resonant, monotonous ticking reminded me of the war, the emptiness, the sorrow,the pain. My room was empty with the exception of the grand piano, that a person, whom I never met, had lent me to practice on while I was residing in Denmark, and my books, my wonderful books. They had…..
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