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Inge Auerbacher
Entry One:
Dear Daisy, I know you are just a diary but I thought you deserved a special name for me to call you, so I chose my favorite flower. My name is Inge Auerbacher, and I am currently living with my Mama, Papa, and Grandmother, but I always did long to have siblings my own age to play dollies with. Whenever Mama brushes my short, dark curly hair, she hums to me and always tells me that we used to live a good life. She said that we had a big, beautiful home filled with windows that let in tons of light, along with beautiful hallways that always smelled like a summer’s breeze, and that I would always ask our servants to play card games with me. It was any ordinary day, I was picking daisies and roses for my Grandfather in our garden, when all of the sudden a group of hoodlums approached our home and began smashing the windows and tearing apart our belongings. Mama and Grandma frantically came to my rescue and we all hid in a shed to protect ourselves from the commotion. It smelled of wet tears and dry paint, but I thought to myself that it would all be okay, and soon enough I would go right back to my dollhouse and tea set.
Finally the world was quiet, and all seemed well. Mama, Grandma, and I creaked open the shed door, and noticed everyone was gone, including my Papa and Grandfather. “Oh, my dear Berthold!” Mama wailed, breaking into emotional tears. Grandma pulled me aside and whispered to me, “Inge, please do not cry. Now I am going to tell your mother this right after I tell you: The world is a puzzle. There are millions of pieces and all have their own place and fit. The same is true for life, do not worry until the puzzle piece has already been placed. Your Papa and Grandfather are out there, but nothing awful has happened yet, so do not worry,” she said with her brown, smiling eyes. “And I managed to grab this for you on our way to the shed,” Grandma said, handing me my favorite rag doll, Marlene. I graciously thanked her, and at first I thought that Grandma’s life lesson was just her rambling, but she was right; a few weeks later my Grandpa and Papa returned.
Entry 2:
Dear Daisy, I have so much more to tell you! On the night of my Papa and Grandfather’s return I was sleeping when I heard a loud cry. Quickly I closed my sheer bed canopy and clutched Marlene to my chest, worried that more hoodlums were here to destroy our home again. Suddenly I heard a voice again, but I let out a sigh of relief, for it was only Mama. Looking around at my frilly wardrobes and pink walls, I listened to Mama and Papa talking down the hall. “Regina! You must listen to me! It is not safe here anymore! For you, for Inge, and your parents!” My Papa exclaimed, and it appeared he was in great worry. “Berthold, this is our home, I do not want to leave it!” I heard the loud smack of newspaper hitting a bedside table, and I covered my ears for I did not want to hear my parents fighting. “The Nazis have begun seizing cities in Germany, it is not safe here. The paper calls the event from three weeks ago, Kristallnacht. Your father and I were taken to a camp, a horrible, horrible camp where people were being burned alive and starved to death! I do not want the same for you and Inge,” My father exclaimed. Afterwards, I heard my mother agree and then I only heard the scratches of trees outside of my window. I couldn’t believe what I had heard; were we leaving? As it turned out, we did. Except we did not escape German troops; we were moved to a ghetto in Czechoslovakia, and that was the end of the good life.
A lot has happened since I last wrote in you. I left out one important detail last time that caused our family great pain, by which it was too hard to write about. A little while ago, my Grandfather died from a heart attack. Also, we are currently living with several other Jewish families in a ghetto called Theresienstadt. There are walls surrounding our whole city, broken-down buildings of brick, underground cells, and barbed wire. All I long to do is play outside in the park like I used to do. Mama and Papa don’t sew me dresses anymore, for we are not allowed to have but only a few articles of clothing. I don’t have many things anymore, but I am okay with it; I only want my family happy during these dark days. I am thankful that I still have you and Marlene, because otherwise I would be bored out of my mind. I have just had my eighth birthday, and my family gave me a tiny potato cake that had a hint of sugar. Of course a few months ago I would have wanted a box of marzipan chocolate, but to me potatoes are as good as gold. Our days have been filled with labor and embracing the cold chills of winter. Each time I see my family, it is like a birthday gift on its own. Before I knew it, many more birthdays went by, and all I could think was if I would ever spend another birthday outside of Theresienstadt.
Entry 3:
Dear Daisy, the year is 1945. I haven’t written in you for a long while and I deeply apologize, but oh how much things have changed! Our ghetto has been liberated by American soldiers! There are to be no more dark, dreary, and miserable days at Theresienstadt! My Mama and Papa have survived, but unfortunately thirteen of our close relatives did not. My parents and I no longer have any desire to stay here, so we plan to immigrate to the United States within the year in hopes of finding security and happiness.
Entry 4:
Dear Daisy, the last time I wrote in you was when I was only a child! It appears that you have been hiding under dusty books in my bookshelf now for over thirty years! I am a grown woman now, who still has a passion about writing, and I have devoted my life to teaching others about the Holocaust. I still think about my life in the ghetto and before that in my family’s wonderful home, but mostly I think about how I can make a difference for children today.
Entry One:
Dear Daisy, I know you are just a diary but I thought you deserved a special name for me to call you, so I chose my favorite flower. My name is Inge Auerbacher, and I am currently living with my Mama, Papa, and Grandmother, but I always did long to have siblings my own age to play dollies with. Whenever Mama brushes my short, dark curly hair, she hums to me and always tells me that we used to live a good life. She said that we had a big, beautiful home filled with windows that let in tons of light, along with beautiful hallways that always smelled like a summer’s breeze, and that I would always ask our servants to play card games with me. It was any ordinary day, I was picking daisies and roses for my Grandfather in our garden, when all of the sudden a group of hoodlums approached our home and began smashing the windows and tearing apart our belongings. Mama and Grandma frantically came to my rescue and we all hid in a shed to protect ourselves from the commotion. It smelled of wet tears and dry paint, but I thought to myself that it would all be okay, and soon enough I would go right back to my dollhouse and tea set.
Finally the world was quiet, and all seemed well. Mama, Grandma, and I creaked open the shed door, and noticed everyone was gone, including my Papa and Grandfather. “Oh, my dear Berthold!” Mama wailed, breaking into emotional tears. Grandma pulled me aside and whispered to me, “Inge, please do not cry. Now I am going to tell your mother this right after I tell you: The world is a puzzle. There are millions of pieces and all have their own place and fit. The same is true for life, do not worry until the puzzle piece has already been placed. Your Papa and Grandfather are out there, but nothing awful has happened yet, so do not worry,” she said with her brown, smiling eyes. “And I managed to grab this for you on our way to the shed,” Grandma said, handing me my favorite rag doll, Marlene. I graciously thanked her, and at first I thought that Grandma’s life lesson was just her rambling, but she was right; a few weeks later my Grandpa and Papa returned.
Entry 2:
Dear Daisy, I have so much more to tell you! On the night of my Papa and Grandfather’s return I was sleeping when I heard a loud cry. Quickly I closed my sheer bed canopy and clutched Marlene to my chest, worried that more hoodlums were here to destroy our home again. Suddenly I heard a voice again, but I let out a sigh of relief, for it was only Mama. Looking around at my frilly wardrobes and pink walls, I listened to Mama and Papa talking down the hall. “Regina! You must listen to me! It is not safe here anymore! For you, for Inge, and your parents!” My Papa exclaimed, and it appeared he was in great worry. “Berthold, this is our home, I do not want to leave it!” I heard the loud smack of newspaper hitting a bedside table, and I covered my ears for I did not want to hear my parents fighting. “The Nazis have begun seizing cities in Germany, it is not safe here. The paper calls the event from three weeks ago, Kristallnacht. Your father and I were taken to a camp, a horrible, horrible camp where people were being burned alive and starved to death! I do not want the same for you and Inge,” My father exclaimed. Afterwards, I heard my mother agree and then I only heard the scratches of trees outside of my window. I couldn’t believe what I had heard; were we leaving? As it turned out, we did. Except we did not escape German troops; we were moved to a ghetto in Czechoslovakia, and that was the end of the good life.
A lot has happened since I last wrote in you. I left out one important detail last time that caused our family great pain, by which it was too hard to write about. A little while ago, my Grandfather died from a heart attack. Also, we are currently living with several other Jewish families in a ghetto called Theresienstadt. There are walls surrounding our whole city, broken-down buildings of brick, underground cells, and barbed wire. All I long to do is play outside in the park like I used to do. Mama and Papa don’t sew me dresses anymore, for we are not allowed to have but only a few articles of clothing. I don’t have many things anymore, but I am okay with it; I only want my family happy during these dark days. I am thankful that I still have you and Marlene, because otherwise I would be bored out of my mind. I have just had my eighth birthday, and my family gave me a tiny potato cake that had a hint of sugar. Of course a few months ago I would have wanted a box of marzipan chocolate, but to me potatoes are as good as gold. Our days have been filled with labor and embracing the cold chills of winter. Each time I see my family, it is like a birthday gift on its own. Before I knew it, many more birthdays went by, and all I could think was if I would ever spend another birthday outside of Theresienstadt.
Entry 3:
Dear Daisy, the year is 1945. I haven’t written in you for a long while and I deeply apologize, but oh how much things have changed! Our ghetto has been liberated by American soldiers! There are to be no more dark, dreary, and miserable days at Theresienstadt! My Mama and Papa have survived, but unfortunately thirteen of our close relatives did not. My parents and I no longer have any desire to stay here, so we plan to immigrate to the United States within the year in hopes of finding security and happiness.
Entry 4:
Dear Daisy, the last time I wrote in you was when I was only a child! It appears that you have been hiding under dusty books in my bookshelf now for over thirty years! I am a grown woman now, who still has a passion about writing, and I have devoted my life to teaching others about the Holocaust. I still think about my life in the ghetto and before that in my family’s wonderful home, but mostly I think about how I can make a difference for children today.