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From: Judy Faust <>
Subject: [AUSTRIA-L] Wenn ich ein Voglein war: my mother's response
Date: Wed, 15 May 2002 21:15:24 -0400


Dear Listers,
Thank you so much for your help in locating and hearing the old song, Wenn
ich ein Voglein war. I thought you might like to read what my mother's
reaction was. This too, will go in my book about her. I did not include the
poem I wrote. It is too long, and I thought you would be more interested in
the rest of it. Thanks again.

Judy Faust
Maine



The Mother¹s Day Gift, 5/14/02

The Friday before Mother¹s Day I chose a card for my mother. I bought it at
an art supply store. It had paintings by three different artists on it of a
woman looking in a mirror. I had to write something to go with it. I had ten
minutes before I had to bolt into my car and run to work. No problem, I
thought, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. If I waited until my next free
moment the card wouldn¹t get to Florida in time. So I began. The poem leaped
out of me as if it was already in my heart waiting to be written.


The present to go with the card was already on my desk on top of the
addressed envelope. It was a tape of Wenn ich ein Voglein war, the song that
Papa sang to my mother whenever he had to say good-bye to her. It was the
last time my mother saw him. He softly sang it to her even then. They stood
on the Vienna platform, hoping against the odds that she would send him
money, a ship ticket, somehow be able to save him from the Nazis.
Mom mentioned the song a few times. I decided to see if I could hear it.
Would I recognize it? When I found it on the internet, I listened and
listened. It was a distant memory. Yes, there was a familiarity about it.
More of a feeling than a mental memory. I made a tape of several versions of
it.
I would have liked to be there when she heard it but that could not be.
I tucked it into the envelope, mailed it and went to work. A few days later
there was a message on our answering machine from my tearful mother. Later
in the evening I called her back.
³Oh, Judy! Your poem was so beautiful! You couldn¹t make a mother
happier! I am so touched! But then the tape, that song...I cannot tell you
what that did to me! It stirred up something very deep inside of me. I have
never felt such an emotion. So much love, I could not handle it. I cried and
cried!²
³Gee, I¹m sorry! I didn¹t want to make you cry!²
³No, no.² She laughed, and she sounded like she was choking on more
tears. ³It was a good cry. A very long awaited cry. They were tears of
happiness. Tears of joy. It was a good cry.²
Maybe it was a good thing I wasn¹t there when she listened to it. Those
are moments one cannot share with anyone else. Those are moments one can
only share with God.
The doll and the song had rejoined my mother. She was healing.
But what about Julius Duhl, my grandfather, the father who was murdered and
died of a broken heart in a mass grave in Maly Trostinets in 1942? What
about Judy, reincarnated as the daughter?
My turn was coming.





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