Luzija's Story

By Kay Wright

From a poor family and an abusive father, to being caught up in a war that she wanted no part of. Loving,losing but never giving up hope. Seeing death up close and growing up too fast. All the battles and turmoil of a young woman in a torn world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kay Wright
• Release date: May 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476310343

Kay Wright

In 1970, Kay Wright penned her first poem on a scrap of paper, unaware that it would take several other careers and thirty more years before that spark would flare into life again. Today, her main writing process centers around setting aside "who I am, to become who I am not." Kay Wright currently resides in Northern California, where The Redwoods Meet The Sea.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I was born on October twelfth, 1919 in a small town in Poland called Danzig. My family was poor and quite large. When my father Ludwig and mother Martha got married they adopted a baby girl, who they named Helen. Little did they know that in the coming years their family would outgrow their small apartment! Helen was seven when my mother gave birth to my older brother Joseph and a year later I was born. Then my mother had Martha, Bonnie, Vanda, Conrad and Erika. She then had twin boys who were stillborn. Shortly after that she got pregnant again, only to lose that baby too. Eventually she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, whom they named Edmunt, and after that a baby girl named Gita. On the average my mother was pregnant every year. We were Roman Catholics and there was no birth control and most families were big back then; it was very strange to see a family with only one or two children.

My mother was only a small woman; about four foot eleven tall, thin and delicate, and with big blue eyes. She had long blonde hair which she kept up in a bun. My father on the other hand was six foot tall, darker hair and blue piercing eyes. They were complete opposites; she was gentle and loving, he was strong willed and sometimes brutal. Our life was much the same as any other family at that time; the struggles and hardships were no different from anyone else. We had to go without the simplest of things; we didn’t know what it was like to have tooth-paste, and we used soap instead to brush our teeth. No one had their own things as everything was shared. But even though they were hard times, the good times were joyous.

My early years were filled with laughter and playing mischievous games that only children can. The secrets that we used to keep with each other and the dreams that we had, were ours and ours alone.

But this didn’t last for long, and the harsh realities of life would begin. The house work and the babysitting for me, as I was the oldest girl. And let’s not forget the many beatings that I suffered. Joe might have been the oldest, but he was also grandma’s favorite. Grandma was my mother’s mother and what she said was law; even my father listened, but only up to a point. Joe didn’t have to do the things that I had to, nor did he take any of the beatings, as my grandmother put an end to that. She would clothe Joe, as we all walked around in hand- me downs. He would get new shoes, while we had none. He wore boots in the winter while we wore wooden clogs that father had made.

She made no secret of her love for Joseph and it was considered right by our parents. Now and then we would get a candy along with a hug; please don’t get me wrong, she did love us, but not the way she loved Joe.

Grandmother was also one of the mid-wives in town; I don’t know how many children she had helped into the world, but I do know it was quite a few. She was small and round and you could tell by her face that she knew quite a lot about life. She only lived a few doors down from us, so we saw quite a lot of her. Unlike my mother’s family, we only knew one of my father’s brothers, uncle Walter and we only met him a couple of times, because he lived far away from us, near to my father’s parents. You see my father’s parents had disowned him when he had married my mother; they said she was below their class and you just don’t marry below your class.

My father’s parents were a Duke and Duchess; my father had married for love and left all the riches behind him. They never forgave him and they never saw each other again.

Now we all know that parents have to be strict and to rule their children with an iron fist and in turn the child learns right from wrong and respects the parents. Well, all that is fine and good, but my father took it one step further and that was the step that turned respect to hate. I understood that there were ten children to bring up and that most children were treated the same way, but it made it no easier to bear. They say that time heals everything, but that’s just a lie. It just took some of the pain away, but never any of the hurt in your heart. Whenever one of the younger children did something wrong, I was the one who got the beatings, because I should have kept my eyes on them.

This went on for years until the others were old enough to be punished. So needless to say I kept my eyes on them like a hawk. I think father would hit me just because I was in the way; but it was the things he used to hit us with that stick out in my mind, and they were like instruments of torture. There was the dreaded barbers’ razor belt; the dried ox tail that hug behind the door and a piece of wood with six leather straps attached to it, the straps had been tied in knots and this one really hurt.

But the one that I hated the most, and the one father used the most on me, was the poker that stood by the fireplace. Yes, this was his weapon of choice for me. I hated him; I tried to win his love, but everything that I did was wrong. I think sometimes even my breathing made him mad. It is funny but he never used his hand on us; maybe it would have taken all the fun out of it for him.

Strangely though, in lots of ways he was good to his family; he was always hard working and he would take whatever job was given to him, just so he could put food on the table.

He worked mainly as a handy man, but I do remember once he took a job at the undertakers, the thought of which scared me no end; just to know that he had been around dead bodies was too much. He made all of our toys and also made quite a few of our clothes, but he never took the time to talk to us or tell us a bed-time story, he was just not that way. He had some animals in the back garden, where he spent most of his time when he was home. He had rabbits, pigeons, geese, guinea pigs and a dog. I would often see him sitting there talking to them as if they understood. He would send Joe and me to the town dump to look for food that had been thrown away so he could feed the animals, or to the train station to sweep the track where the grain trains had been, and this job was much easier than the first. In time we had to eat the rabbits, pigeons and geese; times were tough and it was a case of having to.

We all had plenty of friends where we lived, but we found ourselves playing with each other all the time, so many brothers and sisters you were never alone. I always had someone to talk to and confide in. We all felt the same about my father and tried to keep away from him. Our mother though, that was different, we all loved her very much and would do anything for her, and she was the glue that kept the family together.

My school years were magical for me; I loved everything about school. I loved to learn, and I would soak it all up like a sponge; history, math, writing, everything in fact. We were taught by the Order of the Grey Nuns. They were very strict and you had to listen the first time or you were in trouble. We would start school at eight a.m. and finish at two p.m.; then we would go home to do our chores around the house and if we had any homework from school, we had to get it finished before father came home. After homework we had time to play and be children for awhile, until mother called us in for dinner.

At dinner time we had to wait until father had finished his food before we could start; he always seemed to take so long and we were always so hungry. But that was the way it was; and when he was finished mother would feed us and then herself and he would take off to the garden to be with his animals again. Lucky animals! Rather them than me. The following week we were told that we would have two weeks off from school, which was good. I think the Nuns needed a rest from the children.

CHAPTER 2

Father told Joe and me that we would be leaving to spend some time with his brother Walter. This took us all by surprise as we had never been anywhere and for father to let us go, well that was unheard of. Father said it was time that we meet our grandfather and grandmother.

I looked at him in shock but I knew better than to ask questions. So the very next day we were off on our big adventure. I remember being quite scared of the fact that I was going to meet new family members, especially grandparents that had disowned my father. What would they have to say to us? Maybe something like Do you enjoy being poor? I know that sounds bad, but I didn’t know what to expect. Joe soon put me straight and told me to stop making mountains out of mole hill, which was one of his favorite sayings for me. He said I was to give them a chance and to see how things went before I condemned them. He was right of course; I was scared and then I would let my mind wander and think strange things up.

And so the trip began; it took us about eighteen hours before we arrived there. The train ride was nice, and as we passed through the country side and then towns, I saw all kinds of people doing their daily work, and it was amazing. Joe slept quite a bit; I only wished I could be like him, as he was so relaxed. I did try to sleep only to be woken up by the ticket collector asking to punch our tickets. I woke Joe up and he handed them to him and then went back to sleep.

Our journey went on and on, and with every movement of the train my anxiety grew. So by the time Joe decided to wake up I was in a bad state. He tried to calm me down by making jokes about me, but that really didn’t help. Then he started talking about how good it will be not to have father around for two weeks. I must say that did help. We started talking more and that kept my mind off of things. Joe was really one in a million.

When we arrived at the train station Joe had the hardest time trying to get me out of my seat and on to the platform. He told me to wait and not move until he got our bags off from the train. So there I stood looking around to see if our grandparents were there. I didn’t see anyone, so Joe got our bags and told me to follow him to the main gate, and so off we went. When we got to the gate I saw a very big man standing there smiling at us. He then looked down and asked us if we were Madame Kalaczynski’s grandchildren. We said yes, and then he took our bags and told us to follow him.

As we walked behind him my hands were shaking; Joe took hold of one of them and told me it would be alright. We followed him to a horse and cart outside the station. And there sitting in the cart was our Uncle Walter; a kind face that we knew. The man put our bags in the cart and then helped me up, and Joe then jumped in beside me. It was then that I noticed the beautiful black horse that was attached to our cart; he looked like a statue standing there. The sun was shining down on him making his coat shine, and at that very moment I felt at ease. Uncle Walter looked at us and said Let me introduce you both to Stan, he is the main man up at the house. Anything that you need, Stan can get it for you, but just stay on his good side. And then he laughed and slapped Stan on the back.

It was just then that we took off; my body jerked back and I held on tightly to Joe. As we made our way through the wide open country side, I looked around me and took in all the beauty. As for Joe he had struck up a conversation with Uncle Walter and Stan.