fear—I won’t lie—but at least knowing that any danger we encounter is encountered by all. We’re never menaced here solely because we’re Jews, and it breaks my heart to know that, in my beautiful Salzburg, this is no longer true.
Waiting eagerly for your next letter, and your arrival!
Your Rosalie
2 June 1938
Dearest Mama,
The tone of your letter and its awful news have been weighing on my mind, along with the uncertainty of your situation. Reading it when I first had it in my hands, I felt as if you were sitting beside me; but I can no longer ignore the fact that you wrote it weeks ago, and I have no real knowledge of today. I just pray—I pray, Mama, can you imagine?—that the thugs who found Herr Baumberg don’t find you, that you and Uncle Horst pass invisibly through your days until your train leaves for Dairen—or better still, that you’ve long since left Salzburg for an ocean crossing or an earlier train!
As you ask, I’ll continue my account of our days—because I have no other way of doing anything you ask. As I imagine my letter in your hands, I see you in the parlor, safe and comfortable; and so I’ll keep writing until I truly see you, hot, weary, and bewildered, as we all are, but here, in Shanghai.
So to the news: Mama, I’ve sold the ruby ring. Oh, it was a sad moment! To see it placed on velvet in a glass case, to catch a stranger’s eye. But I comfort myself the price of it will enable Paul to resume his schooling, and the two of us to find a measure of privacy and a life closer to normal. And the transaction was made less painful by the extraordinary kindness of the jeweler, a refugee himself. Presciently assessing the situation in his native Germany, he brought his wife and children to Shanghai five years ago. He understands we do not sell our possessions lightly. His patience and gentle good nature were reassuring, and the sum he offered fair. With it, Paul will soon return to his test tubes and electromagnets, and—with luck—I will find us a room with solid walls.
Be safe, Mama!
Your Rosalie
10 June 1938
Dearest Mama,
I apologize for my silence. For over a week I’ve been incapable of anything but collapse at the end of each day—but for many wonderful reasons! First: I’ve found a school for Paul. He’ll attend the Shanghai British School, to be educated in English—hurrah, Mama, for your insistence on “treasure Island” and “Robin Hood!” This good fortune was made possible by Grandmother Gilder’s ring; and by Kai-rong, who suggested the place, and, as an alumnus, had a word with the headmaster. (I believe, Mama, he was prepared to pay the school fees himself, but after I ignored his hints to that effect, he gave the subject up and waited until I told him we had the sum in hand.)
And equally important: We’ve found and moved to a place of our own!
I say “we,” but it was Paul’s doing, I having been a total failure at the project. Since a few days after our arrival here, Paul has been busy in an unexpected and enterprising way. Once we began somewhat to understand the city, he and I embarked upon serious negotiations, coming eventually to an agreement over where he may venture and which streets, on the other hand, he may under no circumstances cross. (I felt the dangers of Shanghai’s streets to be less than the dangers of being confined all through the day in the wretched Home; I hope you’ll agree.) The streets on which he is allowed he wanders daily, in the company of other boys. He returns with odd treasures—two fresh apples, a bicycle tire—for which he has traded yesterday’s treasures. Today’s will be assessed, and, if not eaten (and I believe if he put his mind to it he could eat a bicycle tire) will be taken tomorrow to some shop keeper of his acquintance who needs precisely that item and will offer in trade another item which Paul knows is needed at a shop across town. A yuan or two often finds its way into Paul’s pockets in the course of these transactions. The yuan is almost worthless, but with a pocketful of them certain items may be obtained: Yesterday, in celebration of our new home, Paul presented me with a single gingersnap! Mama, I was touched to tears. Something to which at home we gave not