Portrait of Elliott

Elliott once said his goal was to live to be 127.  If he were alive today, May 25, 2017 would be his 105^th birthday.  Although it has been over a year since he passed away, his presence in my life is still very strong.  Writing his life story has occupied me for the past several years.  Now, I’m finally putting this project to rest. 

Portrait of Elliott is now available as a paperback book. You can find it on the Amazon website and the website of the publisher, Booklocker.  The price is the same at both sites.  The e-book version, which is less expensive, is already available on the Booklocker site and will be available on Amazon very soon.  I believe you can also find it on the Barnes & Noble website.  

I must admit that I’m a little nervous about releasing the book.  I hope it’s worthy of the remarkable man whose life I shared for over 32 years.  Please keep in mind that I wrote the book so that Elliott’s children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren would be inspired by his story.  Over the course of his long life, Elliott made plenty of mistakes and faced numerous obstacles.  However, he always managed to overcome them without losing faith in himself.  His zest for life buoyed him through all the challenges. 

As much as I miss him, I can’t think of Elliott today without breaking into a smile.  To Elliott Thompson’s family and friends, I offer you Portrait of Elliott so that you can get to know what made him so special. 

Welcome to Berlin

Welcome to Berlin

Sharyn, my traveling companion on the Lithuania/Latvia trip, and I had chosen to spend a few days in Berlin before flying home.  Since we were now traveling independently, we were free from group schedules and pre-determined itineraries.  In other words, I hoped our stay in the German capital would be more like the European vacations I’ve taken in the past.

In many ways, Berlin reminded me of New York City.  While it lacks the skyscrapers, there were many similarities.  First of all, the size – it’s a big, big city, spread out across many distinctive neighborhoods.  Secondly, it’s a very cosmopolitan city with an extremely diverse population.  Third, it has the wealth of museums and cultural events that one finds in New York City.  And finally, it possesses an intangible quality, a certain energy, that I associate with the Big Apple.  In this case, I’ll call it the Berlin Buzz. 

Of course, in three and a half days, it wasn’t possible to experience everything Berlin had to offer.  But we made an attempt to see as much as we could in a short time.  Our base was the Hotel Monbijou, located near a lovely park of the same name.  I think I’d voted for this hotel because of its French name, which means “my jewel.”  The entrance level public area with its fireplace was lovely and inviting.  Our room, on the other hand, reminded me of a monk’s cell or ship’s cabin, i.e. tiny, with no wasted space.  One big plus, after the hotel in Riga, was that our room looked out onto a quiet courtyard. 

Of course, the real reason we’d chosen the Monbijou was for its location.  It turned out to be just a short walk from several important sites.  The nearby Hackescher Markt is a beautiful red brick building that at one time served as a railroad station.  Nowadays, it’s the center of an area filled with restaurants and shops.  In addition, it provided us with easy access to public transportation.   

Hackescher Markt

Just south of the Hackescher Markt lies the Rotes Rathaus (red city hall) Platz, a plaza with a  19th century Neptune fountain and the historic Marienkirche church.  

The simple interior of Marienkirche (St. Mary's Church)

The Neptune fountain on Spandauer Strasse

Nearby bridges link the area to Museum Island, where you can see the Berlin Dom, the city’s beautiful cathedral.  

Berlin's cathedral, known as the Dom 

On our first afternoon, Sharyn and I set out on an ambitious walk.   Our first stop was at the Neue Synagogue on Oranienburger Strasse.  The building, which officially opened in 1866, was the largest synagogue in Germany, with 3200 seats in the main sanctuary.  With its distinctive gilded dome and interior decoration supposedly inspired by the Moorish Alhambra in Spain, it was an architectural showpiece.  Today, however, not much remains of the original structure.  On Kristallnacht (November 1938), the building suffered from serious vandalism and arson.  In addition, it was heavily damaged during Allied bombing raids in 1943.  The entrance vestibule remains, and it is linked to a glass and steel enclosure over the former main hall of the synagogue where you can see an exhibit about Jewish life in Berlin.

Interior of the Neue Synagogue, showing damage

The Neue Synagogue, with its gilded dome

As we continued our walk, we often saw reminders of World War II in the still standing ruins of buildings bombed during war.  We crossed the river Spree (pronounced “shpray”) and made our way to the Bundestag, formerly known as the Reichstag during World War II.  Today, this is where the German parliament meets.  The glass dome at the top of the hulking building officially opened in 1999.  It’s a big tourist attraction, as it offers 360-degree views of the city.  

The Bundestag, formerly known as the Reichstag

Before we left home, I’d made a dinner reservation at the restaurant adjacent to the dome.  It was the big splurge of our trip.  From the amuse-bouche to the complimentary mini-dessert that accompanied the check, it was a delicious and photogenic meal. 

The complimentary conclusion to our meal at the Dome restaurant

Afterwards, I summoned the energy to walk to the top of the dome for a view of the city lights.  On our way back to the hotel, Sharyn and I also had a chance to see the legendary Brandenburg gate.

Brandenburg Gate at night

It seems we brought the chilly, damp weather with us from Lithuania and Latvia, so walking wasn’t especially pleasant.  Thank goodness for the Hop-On-Hop-Off buses.  We used the HOHOs on two different routes.  With a city the size of Berlin, it was most efficient way to get a sense of orientation in a short amount of time.  The first route took us through large parts of what was formerly West Berlin.  We got a good look at the Tiergarten, a sprawing urban park, the symphony hall in the modern Kulturforum, the ruins of the Kaiser Wilhelm church, and many other sites.  The route that covered the former East Berlin brought us through a variety of residential neighborhoods, past remnants of the Wall, and along a stretch of road called the East Side Gallery to see exciting street art.

In addition, we achieved a small degree of mastery over the daunting public transportation system.  Sharyn and I felt a genuine sense of pride when we managed to get ourselves from one place to another using the S-bahn and the U-bahn.  I’ve never seen any transportation hub as confusing as the Friedrichstrasse station. 

Finally, we took a relaxing hour-long boat trip on the Spree.

We took a ride on the Spree in a similar boat.

Berlin is blessed with a number of fine museums, and I was hoping to visit several during our stay.  Because our time was limited, I was only able to get to two:  the Kunstgewerbemuseum (Decorative Arts Museum) and the Jewish Museum.  The Decorative Arts Museum is part of the Kulturforum located near Potsdamer Platz.  Sharyn and I were attracted to this particular museum because of its wonderful Art Nouveau collection, which includes works by Gallé, Lalique, and Tiffany, among others.  In the Renaissance section, I found two Florentine cassoni, the marriage chests that I’d learned about in my art history class.  I also enjoyed seeing a very comprehensive exhibit devoted to several hundred years of fashion.

A 15th century wooden cassone from Florence

The second museum we visited was the Jewish Museum, where we spent about four hours.  We would have stayed longer if our stamina had held out.  While one section of the museum contains a powerful exhibit on the Holocaust, the museum is much broader in scope, presenting two thousand years of Jewish life in Germany.  The exhibits were very well designed, with an appropriate balance of text (in English as well as German), video and artifacts. In addition, we made use of a very helpful audio guide, which was available in a dozen languages. I was particularly interested in the beginnings of organized Jewish life in the Rhineland area in the 1200s since this group of people formed the basis of the Ashkenazi Jewish community that later spread into Eastern Europe. 

A Hebrew book from the middle ages

A fascinating temporary exhibit called Cherchez La Femme examined how Judaism, Christianity and Islam view women’s head and body coverings, now and in the past.  I learned the significance of different types of headwear and clothing, and how they developed their religious significance.  One interesting fact the exhibit taught me was that wedding veils arose in the Christian community during the time of the Roman Empire as a way to protect the bride from evil spirits and curses. 

I’m truly sorry we didn’t make it to any of the art or archaeological museums on Museum Island.  If I’m ever back in Berlin, I’ll make a special effort to get to the Pergamon to see its amazing collection of antiquities from the Near East. The museum is currently undergoing renovation, and several of its galleries are closed to the public.  

Sharyn and I also found time to fit shopping into our schedule. Our friend Judy had told us not to miss KaDeWe, and I’m so glad we took her advice.  This enormous department store is located in a busy retail district of the former West Berlin.  Its seven levels are filled with top-quality merchandise of all kinds.  We weren’t in the market for designer clothing, so we zeroed in on the 6^th floor food halls.  As soon as we stepped off the escalator, we found ourselves in a dazzling world of everything edible.  There were beautiful displays of chocolate, caviar, cakes, produce, teas, fish, spices – did I mention chocolate?  I could easily have spent an entire day (and a lot of Euros) shopping at KaDeWe.  But I exercised restraint and only bought some chocolate. 

Of course, all of the stores that you’ll find in any big modern city (H&M, Zara, etc.) were represented in Berlin.  But the Hackescher Markt area, just a quick walk from our hotel, offered a more interesting assortment of shops.  The streets around the repurposed railroad station are lined vendors and boutiques selling locally made goods.  There are also all kinds of restaurants. The area attracts a younger crowd and is especially lively in the evening. 

Speaking of food, I ate quite well in Berlin.  The Monbijou breakfast buffet allowed me to fortify myself each morning for the hard work of being a tourist. It offered the usual breakfast items, plus a few extras, such as a miso soup bar, quark (a yogurt-like dairy product), weisswurst, a pretzel tree, and an actual honeycomb if you wanted some freshly harvested honey.  There was also reindeer pastrami, if I translated correctly.  Whatever it was, it was quite tasty.  I’m glad we stayed four nights because I needed four breakfasts to try everything that looked good on the buffet. 

Fresh honey at breakfast time

One Berlin specialty that I planned to try was curry wurst.  You see stands selling the popular dish, accompanied by a big mound of French fries, throughout the city.  However, when I got a good look at a plate of curry wurst, I decided that a photo op would suffice. 

They obviously like the curry wurst.

We enjoyed lunch one day at the kosher Hummus and Friends, which serves creative vegetarian cuisine with an Israeli-Middle Eastern flare. We also found a bargain hole-in-the-wall Italian place around the corner from our hotel where we could get personal sized pizza and an excellent salad for 6 Euros.  It was a few doors down from the Berlin branch of Amorino, the fabulous gelato shop I discovered in Lisbon. 

I also had a delicious snack at Café Schmus (we’d write this Yiddish word as schmooze in English) in the Jewish Museum.  Sliced duck breast with radicchio, cucumber and herbed mayonnaise on seeded bagel qualifies as the new Yiddish cuisine.  

Fortunately, language wasn’t as much as of a challenge here as it was in Lithuania and Latvia.  The Baltic languages haven’t changed much in several thousand years and are very close to the proto-Indo-European language from which German and English, along with Latin-based languages, are derived.  Lithuanian and Latvian actually share some similarities with Sanskrit, another very old Indo-European language.  I couldn’t even guess at the meaning of words when we were in Vilnius and Riga.  However, in Berlin, my two years of college Danish and my childhood exposure to Yiddish often helped me decipher German signs, maps and menus. 

[Note to Sharyn – you asked about the meaning of “thal,” as in Rosenthal and Blumenthal.  I have a strong interest in linguistics, and I started thinking about other “-thal” words.  The first word that popped into my mind was Neanderthal, which means Neander valley. Then I remembered that when I lived in a suburb of Copenhagen in the early 1970s, my street name was Vidnaesdal.  So the Danish word “dal” is probably related to the German “thal.”  And then there’s Annandale, a town in northern Virginia and in England.  The English language has hills and dales, so the English word “dale” likely means valley.  That would make sense since English is derived from an early form of German.  So, to make a long story short, I think Rosenthal means valley of roses and Blumenthal means valley of flowers.  By the way, the –en ending seems to indicate a plural, as in children.]

To sum up our Berlin experience, despite the cold, the clouds and the rain, we enjoyed ourselves in this lively German city.  However, if you’re planning a trip, definitely try to schedule it for a warmer time of year, when the weather will allow you to promenade along Unter den Linden, in the shade of the city’s famous linden trees.

Onward to Latvia

It was late in the afternoon when we crossed into Latvia, and I had been dozing on the bus, somewhat numb after seeing town after town where all that remained of the Jewish community was a lone unused synagogue.  The thick gray clouds looming overhead matched my mood.  I was looking forward to checking into our hotel in Riga.  But first, shortly after we crossed the border, we made a stop at one of the few non-Jewish sites on our itinerary.  Through the mist, past soggy fields, I spied the low-lying bulk of Rundale Palace, a grand Baroque residence often referred to as the Latvian Versailles.

 

The approach to Rundales Palace

To reach the entrance to the palace, we traipsed along muddy paths, trying to avoid the many puddles left by endless days of rain. Once inside, we were instructed to don blue booties over our shoes for a tour of the rooms that were open to the public.  Our guide explained that Rundale Palace was built in the 1700s for a Latvian nobleman, the Duke of Courland.  The Italian architect Bartolomeo Rastrelli, who worked for the Russian royal family in St. Petersburg, was responsible for the design of the building and the surrounding grounds. Versailles was apparently his inspiration, judging from the extremely sumptuous décor, which you can see in these photos of the duke’s bedroom and of a painted ceiling in one of the salons.  Through the windows, we viewed the French style park, complete with rose garden, theater, fountains, and sculptures.  Frankly, it looked pretty dismal, but that’s probably because nothing was in bloom. I’m sure it would look more inviting on a bright summer day. 

The Duke's bedroom in Rundale Palace

Interior decor in Rundale Palace

Although initially it felt strange to be visiting a "normal" site, i.e. one that had no connection to Jewish history, I realized that the timing of our visit was good for me.  I’d become so immersed in the world of Yiddishkeit and Holocaust history since our arrival several days ago in Lithuania that I was starting to reach a saturation point.

We were all still shivering from the damp cold when we bundled back onto the bus to resume our road trip.  My eyes must have closed fairly soon because I don’t remember much until our bus arrived in Riga a little over an hour later.  For some reason, I was expecting Riga to be a drab backwater town, so I was pleasantly surprised by my first impressions of the city.  It looked like a big European capital, with beautiful modern bridges spanning the Daugava River, a skyline of towering church spires, and plenty of construction, traffic, and pedestrians. 

I quickly learned from Simon that Riga is the largest city in the Baltic countries.  It has an interesting history.  Due to its location only 15 kilometers from the Baltic Sea, it was an important Hanseatic trading center during the Middle Ages.  It began as a crusader outpost, then became a Swedish city, and later fell under Russian control for two hundred years, starting during the time of Peter the Great (ruled 1682-1725).  Peter the Great was instrumental in trying to bring modern Western European influences into his backward empire.

As far as Jewish history in Latvia goes, Jews started to arrive in Riga in the 16^th century. According to Simon, Latvian Jews tended to be more assimilated into their local communities than the Lithuanian Jews. Before World War II, about 90,000 Jews lived in Latvia.  Most did not survive the war.  The Nazis confined the Jews to a ghetto in Riga.  Many were taken outside the city and shot to death.  Others were sent to concentration and death camps.  

My interest in Latvia was especially strong because just before this trip, I learned that I have family roots in this country.  On my father’s side, my ancestors emigrated to the U.S. about a generation before my mother’s parents arrived.  My paternal grandfather was actually born in the U.S. in the late 1800s and my paternal grandmother came to the U.S. as an infant in 1899.  Thus, they had no personal memories of the old country.  I don’t recall either one of them ever speaking about where their parents came from.  So it was a complete shock to get this information from my aunt on the eve of my trip.  I’ll certainly investigate more when I return to the U.S.  But for the time being, I was simply eager to see Riga for myself.  

Following some lengthy negotiations between the bus driver and the hotel staff about where to park, we dragged our luggage across a series of tram tracks and checked into the hotel, located on the edge of the Old Town.  By that time, it was past 7 p.m.  Alarm bells were going off in my tummy and my brain, warning me that if I didn’t get some food very soon, I’d turn into a very, very “hangry” person.  

Map in hand, I headed off with Sharyn in search of a restaurant.  My only requirement was that I get something other than potatoes, which I’d eaten at nearly every meal for the past week.  On a small cobblestone street, we found Sale & Pepe, an Italian restaurant with plenty of pasta and pizza dishes on the menu, along with inexpensive wines by the glass.  We dashed in out of the rain and managed to get the last available table.

Dinner accomplished, we were both ready to fall into bed.  Unfortunately, our hotel was located next to an Australian backpackers’ hostel, and a noisy crowd of somewhat inebriated young people had gathered on the street. Since our room looked out onto that same street, it took a while for me to fall asleep.  Nevertheless, I was up early the next morning, ready for breakfast.  Once again, I perused the buffet offerings although the novelty of a super-bountiful breakfast was beginning to wear off.  At this particular hotel, however, one item caught my attention: a dish of golden, crispy potato pancakes, which I couldn’t resist despite having already consumed a year’s worth of potatoes on this trip. 

Our group was scheduled for a 10 a.m. walking tour with Simon, so while the rest of my travel companions were still drinking coffee and piling food on their plates, I skipped out of the hotel to do a little exploring on my own.  The first thing I noticed was the blue sky, very welcome after so many gray dismal days.  Picturesque older buildings lined the cobblestone streets, which were still quiet at this hour.  All the shops were closed, but at the Galerija Centr, a modern shopping complex that seamlessly blended into a historic structure, I noticed that the lights were on in what appeared to be a supermarket.  Rimi was not some little corner grocery store.  It would have been right at home in any upscale suburban community in the U.S.  I picked up a rhubarb pastry for later, a box of mango green tea, and a couple of mini bottles of the famous Latvian liqueur, Black Magic.  This potent (90 proof) Latvian specialty is made using a 250-year old recipe that includes balsam and 24 herbs in vodka base.

Unfortunately, this shop/bar selling Black Magic wasn't open at 9 a.m.

Instead of saving that tempting pastry for a mid-morning snack, I gobbled it up on the way back to the hotel where I joined our group in the lobby.  Church bells were ringing as we set out on a Sunday morning Old Town walking tour to sites of Jewish interest.  

A typical street in the Old Town

There is only one functioning synagogue in Riga today.  Built in 1905, the building was not bombed or burned down during the Nazi occupation because it was located next to a Lutheran church.  The synagogue complex, which includes the main sanctuary, a mikve (ritual bath), a kosher kitchen and courtyard, was renovated about five years ago.  The original Art Nouveau décor of the light-filled sanctuary is intact.  This includes a stained glass panel set into the ceiling, an intricately carved marble ark and beautiful wooden pews.  Note the Egyptian-inspired designs decorating the walls and the columns. 

Synagogue exterior (on a narrow street in the Old Town)

 

The light-filled sanctuary (notice the stained glass ceiling)

Egyptian motifs that were a popular feature of Art Nouveau design

An older member of the congregation met us in the sanctuary and was happy to share his family story.  In his case, a Communist aunt with ties to the Red Army arranged for the family to take a truck deep into Russia when the Nazis invaded Latvia during World War II.  At the conclusion of the war, the children came back to Riga and have made their home in the city ever since. The man told us that during the time Latvia was part of the Soviet Union, the Jews baked matzoh in secret in the synagogue’s basement bakery.  When asked about the availability of kosher meat nowadays for the Jews in Riga, he shrugged and said, “That’s not a problem.  We have plenty of fish.” 

While we were touring the complex, we met another member of the Jewish community, a filmmaker in his 40s, who spoke with us at great length and helped us understand what it’s like to be Jewish in Latvia today.  He explained that the majority of the 5000 people in Riga who identify as Jews are Russian speakers from various parts of the former Soviet Union. Occasionally Latvians who were brought up without any religious education during Soviet times question their parents and grandparents about their family background.  It’s not easy to get information, as many people from the older generation, who suffered persecution by the Nazis and Soviets, are hesitant to reveal their Jewish identity.  However, increasing numbers of younger people who suspect that they have Jewish ancestry are reconnecting with the Jewish community.

After our visit to the synagogue, the pace slowed a little and Sharyn and I seized the opportunity to jump into a bizarrely decorated minibus for a guided tour of the city.  On our hour-long ride, we passed several cultural and historic landmarks, including the Latvian Museum of Art, the national opera house, and the state theater, all attesting to Riga’s active arts scene.  A highlight of the tour was a drive through the beautiful Art Nouveau district.  Riga was very prosperous during the first half of the twentieth century, and Art Nouveau architecture flourished during this time.  Some of the beautiful buildings are now used a foreign embassies, such as the French Embassy, seen below. 

The French Embassy, housed in a beautiful Art Nouveau building

When the bus dropped us off again in the heart of Old Town, Sharyn and I decided to spend the remainder of our free afternoon on a leisurely walk through the city.  We did some window shopping (amber, linen, and local crafts), and I actually bought a hand-knitted hat from one of the vendors stationed outside the red brick St. Peter’s Church, one of the oldest houses of worship in the city.  

This is the woman who knitted my hat.

We enjoyed walking through a lovely park that was filled with families and tourists, crossed into the Art Nouveau district, and paid a visit to gold-domed Russian Orthodox Cathedral, the largest in the Baltic region.  Eventually, we made our way to the building that houses Riga’s small but interesting Jewish Museum and community center. 

More examples of Art Nouveau architecture

In the park with its canal

Russian Orthodox Cathedral

We had just enough time to navigate back to the hotel and put our feet up for half an hour before it was time for our farewell dinner at the Chabad house, located in a distant neighborhood.  As I expected, the menu was a retro meal of chicken and potatoes that brought me back in time to the Friday night dinners of my childhood.  The salads and pickled vegetables were a tasty addition.

We lingered at the table long after we’d stuffed ourselves, sharing thoughts about our trip.  At that point, it was hard for me to verbalize what I had experienced.  During my week in the Baltics, I’d been immersed in another world as we searched for clues to the past, spoke to survivors and made connections to the younger generations.  By our presence, we made it known that we are reclaiming our heritage and ensuring that it won’t be forgotten.  Certainly, I now had a fuller appreciation for Yiddishkeit, the rich culture of my forebears.  And my heart ached deeply, knowing how members of my family, along with millions of other Jews, had suffered during the Holocaust.  Seeing the recent resurgence of a Jewish community in Lithuania and Latvia made me think deeply about my own identity.  The challenge now is to figure out how to pass along what I’ve learned to others.

By the way, I’d like to say “Ačiū” (pronounced a-shoo, that’s Lithuanian for thank you) to my friend Sandy, a fellow participant on the trip, for reminding me a couple of days ago that over 900 Lithuanians have been recognized by Yad Vashem as Righteous Gentiles for their role in saving Jewish lives during the Holocaust.  If you want to read more about the history of the Jews in Lithuania, I can recommend We Are Here by Ellen Cassedy.  The author, who came to Vilnius to study Yiddish at the Yiddish Institute, interviewed many Lithuanians, both Jews and non-Jews.  I’ve also found interesting books and documentaries about Chinue Sugihara, the Japanese consul in Kaunas who saved many Jews.  

The final morning of our group tour fell on May Day, which is a big holiday in Latvia.  It’s the equivalent of our Labor Day in the U.S.  In recognition of this special occasion, the breakfast buffet included a couple of new items in addition to the regular offerings.   I can understand champagne (especially when it’s placed next to the orange juice for make-your-own mimosas), but chicken nuggets at breakfast time?

After a quick walk through the Old Town and some final packing, I bid farewell to the Baltics – but I wasn’t going home yet.  Sharyn and I had made arrangements to extend our trip by spending a few days in Berlin.  I look forward to sharing that adventure with you in my next blog post.