I was rifling through my files and I came across an unmarked envelope. I opened it of course, and was shocked to find a very old orange note book. It had travelled with me from Vichy, to Paris, to Brooklyn, to Hackensack, NJ to Amherst, MA.
When one moves one does not look at every item being transported. I know that in Brooklyn I had seen the envelope among my books. I was then a teenager. After then I guess it was just swept up with the books every time I moved and then landed in the file cabinet I acquired in Hackensack.
Sometime in 1940, or possibly 41 there was a scare that the Germans were invading Paris. Some people escaped to Vichy. My parents did and so did the parents of Rose Baum. We were both 8 years old and we met in a park. When our parents decided to leave Vichy, Rose gave me the orange note book with two poems inside. One is beautifully written in her hand, but it is not written by her. It is by Henri de Regnier. This is what is says.
“In the morning I get up and I go out of the City
The sidewalk of the street echoes the sound of my steps
And the early sun heats the old tiles
And in the narrow gardens lilac grows.
Along the wall covered in moss that the branches overtake
An echo that we follow precedes our walk,
And the sharp paving stones lead to the white road
That begins in the suburbs and leads to the fields
And here I am soon on the high side
Where we see the sun at one’s feet,
Calm, small, poor, isolated, dull,
The home town with its familiar roofs.”
At the end of the poem Rose drew a moss covered wall overhung with lilacs.
In the folder there was another poem, this one typed.
Titled “The Song of Goodbyes”. I believe it was written by Rose.
“ Must we part without hope
Without hope of returning?
Must we part without hope
Of seeing each other again one day?
It is not a goodbye, my sisters,
It is only a parting:
Yes, we will see each other again, my sisters,
It is only a parting.
Let us form with our entwined hands
At the end of the day
Let us form with our entwined hands
A chain of love.
Because God who sees us all together
And who wants to bless us
Because God who sees us all together
and who wants to bless us
Will know how to reunite us.”
Rose, an 8-year-old, who already appreciated poetry and who was already a poet herself.
Did she and her family survive World War II?
What happened to her. What sort of life did she have.
Somehow, 8-year-old me felt the need to keep her little notebook and that need has stayed with me until now