This Bittersweet Life: November 2019

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Life can take you unexpected places. It can surprise you, scare you, make you happy and sad. But through it all, the women in my family have always held each other up.

My Oma, mom, sister and me at Caitlin's wedding.

My mom, sister and I find roots in our strength from my Oma. She may have looked small and unassuming in her youth, but she survived something so many others hadn’t. She was born in 1920 as an Austrian citizen. Her father was Catholic and her mother Jewish, but when they married, they became Protestants. I think my great grandparents saw what was coming.

My Oma with her mother, father and older sister in the 1920s.

For her entire young life in Austria, my Oma lived in fear. Her father was able to protect his wife and children to a certain extent, though it did not protect his wife’s family. I had many Jewish family members who were murdered in concentration camps during the Holocaust. One wrong move, or a run-in with someone who didn’t know about her father could have landed my Oma in a dire situation prior to and during the war. Hitler even denied her ability to attend university; she wanted so badly to become a doctor.

At the end of the war, my Oma was working in Germany. Money was meaningless, and food was scarce. She knew if she didn’t go home to Austria, she could die of starvation. However, the borders were closed down at the end of the war, making it impossible to cross them legally. So my Oma did the only thing possible—she crossed the border illegally on foot and bike. She knew it would be extremely dangerous, and she did nearly die of starvation. But she survived. And after, she thrived, marrying an American soldier, had children, moved to the United States and proceeded to work as a civil servant.

My Oma in Austria in 1949, after the war, on a hiking trip.

When my parents split up months after my little sister was born, my mom was left in a very vulnerable state. Money was scarce. I remember going to bed a few nights hungry, but we were rescued by my Oma and some family friends. My Oma helped us the most after my father left us. Through small acts, she reminded us of our own strength while making sure we had the food, home and other necessities that we needed. It wasn’t always a lot, and sure I grew up in a house where my bedroom was basically a Harry Potter closet, but I was always reminded by my mom that there were many out there who weren’t as lucky as us to have someone who could help.

My mom, sister and I in the early 1990s. (For the record, I hated that hair cut.)

The catalyst of my mom finally deciding she had had enough of my father’s immaturity, was realizing that she was sending the wrong signal to my sister and I of how a man is supposed to treat you. She found strength in setting an example for Caitlin and I and served our father divorce papers, because all women should be treated with respect. None of us have looked back since moving on, though our relationship with our father has vastly improved over the years.

My Oma and me in the 1980s.

Both my sister and I have had to deal with a handful of men who mistreated us, including an old boss of mine who emotionally abused me for months and threatened me with physical violence. As an adult on my own I once again endured going to bed hungry occasionally because my job at a TV station didn’t pay enough to always make ends meet. My sister has had to overcome Dyslexia and I have had to learn to deal with Fibromyalgia. I’ve even had to deal with people mistreating me because I grew up in the “bad end of town” and questioning my choice to not have children. I’ve been judged for both—apparently because I’m from the south side I must be in a gang and because I don’t want kids I am out of touch with societal norms.

Caitlin with our Oma a month before she passed away.

Through it all, I remember the lessons of my Oma. To find strength within yourself to do what you think is impossible; to lean on those who support you; to treat those who do not look like you, love like you or practice the same religion as you, with respect; to not question or make assumptions about someone because of what side of town they come from or what choices they make for their life; to always help those who are less well off than you because the only way we can make it in this world is to show kindness and to take care of one another—all boats are lifted on a rising tide, my Oma would say. But mostly, that no matter what, an education is the one thing that no one can take from you. My Oma always wanted for her children and grandchildren the one thing she was sorely denied—the chance to go to college and get a degree, making education of huge import in our family.

My Oma (left) with her two sisters in Austria in 1990 while visiting family.

And while my Oma didn’t get to become a doctor, she did take some classes at a local college once she moved to the States. She knew that continuing to expand your mind wasn’t just expanding your wisdom, but that it could also grow your inner strength. And that value has made for generations of strong and generous women in our family.

Mom, Caitlin and I with Caitlin's baby.

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