The Secret Holocaust Diaries: The Untold Story of Nonna Bannister (10 page)

The grandfather clock, which was located in the main hallway, struck twelve times. It was long past our bedtime. Halina and I were bedded in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and it was a cozy feeling for me to sink into that feather bed and be buried under the down-filled comforter, about six inches thick. There was a feeling of warmth, security, and love all around us. And of course there was also an icon in the corner of the bedroom, and Jesus’ eyes were looking straight at us; we knew that He was there watching over us, too. Before I knew it, I was sound asleep. And if I had any dreams that night, they would have had to be dreams of being in Paradise.

The next morning, while Halina was still fast asleep, I heard the patter of small, bare feet across the room. It was Aljoscha making a grand tour of the house. Having an instinct (as we all did) to protect the younger members of the clan, I followed him. I was amazed by the beauty of the house, which looked even better to me in the daylight than it had the night before. Looking around, I followed Aljoscha all the way downstairs and into the kitchen and into a small room—a pantry (perhaps six by nine feet or so). There was very little light coming through the small window, which was way up high, and there was a door leading to the cellar, secured with a hook. Inside the pantry were many shelves stocked with all kinds of jars. There were also several barrels filled with flour, sugar, rice, etc.

There was a jar of Grandmother’s homemade raspberry preserves (which became my favorite preserves), and nearby was a ceramic pitcher filled with heavy breakfast cream. Both of them had been left open—like a trap that was set with the purpose of catching someone! Aljoscha spotted them before I did and started whining, “I want some; I want some!” Trying to keep him quiet, I stuck my finger into the preserves, and then into the cream, and let him lick my finger. By then, my own desire took over, and once again, I stuck my finger into the preserves and then the cream. It tasted heavenly.

Just as we were enjoying our “breakfast,” I looked up, and there in the corner—yes, in the pantry—was an icon. Jesus was looking straight at me, as though He was saying, “I saw that!” I knew that I had committed one of the worst “sins”—which was to get into something without someone’s permission. I had to think quickly. There, near the bottom of the shelf, was a stool. Dipping my finger back into the preserves and into the cream, I stood on the stool; and barely reaching the icon, I smeared Jesus’ lips with it. Now that He had some, surely He would “forgive me.”

About that time, I heard Grandmother’s voice. No doubt, she had been up for hours and was coming in from outside. I grabbed Aljoscha’s hand and got out of the pantry just in time. When she saw us in the kitchen, she hugged us, and that made me forget about the naughty thing that I had done.

JAM ON THE ICON •
Nonna told this story to her children because it was a happy remembrance. It proved to be one of their favorite stories.

The rest of the day was a very busy one for all the grown-ups. There was a lot of baking, cooking, and getting ready for the Christmas celebration. The house was filled with a magnificent aroma.

Sitting on the windowsill, I was amazed at what I saw. There was a pond near the house, and it was iced over solidly. Two boys were ice-skating on it. There was a road alongside the pond, and now and then you would see a horse or two pulling a sleigh loaded with wood or whatever. It was a kind of quietness and peacefulness that I was not accustomed to, coming from the big city of Rostov. It was quite a change. There were no streetcar noises and not many people to see.

The birch trees (so tall that you had to look way up to see the tops) were lined up all along the side of Grandmother’s house, and they stood there so proudly even though they were bare and covered with snow. Grandmother was talking quite often of the time when Grandfather had planted them. There were fourteen of them when they were planted. It was a gift from Grandfather to Grandmother on her birthday, and those trees kept growing taller with each year, with only one lost, struck by lightning.

13: Our Fun Time Begins

While the grown-ups were busy with the work of preparing for Christmas, we children were playing with our dolls, and the time seemed to slip by. Later in the afternoon, we had one more surprise coming—we heard Babushka calling, “Petrovich, get the horses and sleigh out! We are going for a sleigh ride!”

Grandmother herself was probably just as excited about the sleigh ride as we children were—if not more so. It was something that she had been looking forward to all year long. Petrovich enjoyed taking us for the sleigh ride more than anything else that he had to do. He had been doing this for as long as he had been with the family, and it was his favorite job in the wintertime.

While we were being dressed in our warmest clothes (caps with earflaps, scarves, mittens, etc.), Uncle Zhenya and Anatoly were already outside opening the gates. Now I could see the bright colors of the sleigh, and I could imagine why it was called the most “famous thing” in our family for generations. It had to be touched up with oil paint when needed. It was a very large sleigh that could fit at least twelve people—and of course, the more people in the sleigh, the warmer the ride. The horses (all three of them) had bells on their harnesses, and it was very exciting.

Everyone wanted to get up front and be close to Petrovich. Once Grandmother had to enforce a “suggestion,” making us take turns sitting up front with Petrovich. After we were all seated and everything was in order, we took off—what a glorious feeling! It was a very good day for a sleigh ride. The sun was out, but it was very cold (maybe 30 degrees below zero); when we breathed, we could see our breath turn into particles of ice with beautiful glitters.

The snow on the road was well packed by other sleighs, and because our sleigh was heavily loaded, there was no problem keeping the sleigh on the road. When we were far enough away that Grandmother’s house could not be seen, Petrovich took a road that was close to the woods. It was Grandmother’s idea so we could spot some rabbits or other animals. With the sounds of the bells and the children’s noise, the furry creatures would scatter back into the woods.

“Not too close to the trees, Petrovich,” Grandmother would say. “We don’t want to see any wolves or wild boars.” It seemed as though she really enjoyed putting a little fear into us and seeing the looks on our faces.

After the sun went down and everyone was getting hungry, we were ready to go back to the village. Petrovich was all tired out, and after he put the horses in the stable, covering them with blankets so they would not get chilled, he was ready to retire to his cottage. But there was plenty of day left, even though it was dark outside.

The best times were yet to come. We would gather in the parlor by the
ochag
(fireplace), and Grandmother would be ready to play her favorite game, Lotto, with us. Lotto was something like Bingo, except that we pulled small barrels out of a sack, and on each barrel there were numbers, one on each side of the barrel. Someone called out the numbers, and each player would check the numbers on his or her card. Grandmother really loved to play Lotto, and the prize for the winner would be cookies or some other goodies that she had prepared before we arrived. Grandmother would end up being the biggest winner of all—then she would be sitting there with the basket full of prizes and observe the envious looks on our faces. She would finally say, “I just can’t eat all this by myself! Who wants some?” Of course, we were ready to take her up on her offer, and we would fill our bellies with all the goodies—no cookies ever tasted so good as the ones that Grandmother baked.

By the time the Lotto game was over, the samovar had finished brewing fresh tea. Grandmother never let us drink strong tea—that was her treat. She would make some hot cocoa for us—cocoa was a delicacy in those days, but somehow, Grandmother always managed to have a can of it hidden someplace.

Before we got tired out and fell asleep, Grandmother would play another game with us. It was the most interesting game of all, in which she would tell us about her family’s past. The rules of the game were that we had to keep these stories to ourselves and never tell anyone outside the family about things that we knew. Grandmother made us promise that we would obey her and keep the stories within us, because we loved God, our family, and our grandmother.

SECRETS •
At a time in which heritage could determine one’s fate, Grandmother made keeping family secrets into a game for her grandchildren. Through her many stories about Grandfather, Feodosija gave Nonna and her other grandchildren roots and a Russian heritage that they could be proud of.

Then she would point to the portrait of Grandfather, which was hanging in the parlor over the fireplace. It was the picture of Grandfather in his white Cossack uniform, with the sword hanging at his side. After we were ready to listen to her, she would tell us all about our grandfather, and how brave and wonderful he was. She would tell us about something that happened many years earlier when she was younger. Some of the stories were very sad, and she would shed some tears even while telling us the ones that had happy endings, and she would always assure us that we would see some very happy times to come. When we were bedded down, there were plenty of nice things to dream about. I now realize that this was Grandmother’s way of passing on the legacy of our family, and I will forever be grateful to her for doing this.

January 6 was our Christmas Eve. Needless to say, everyone was very excited. Outside, it was snowing hard, and all of us children were scattered throughout the house most of the day. Mama and Grandmother were in the kitchen preparing for the feast. Aunt Tonja was given the job of babysitting Ludmila—after all, she was getting married soon and would need the experience. Grandmother reminded her of that quite often. Uncle Ljonya was at the cottage playing checkers with Petrovich; Uncle Zhenya and Anatoly were in the parlor playing chess, occasionally accusing each other of cheating; and Halina and I were busy playing with our dolls and other toys. Aljoscha was everywhere in the house, or it seemed that way, since everyone was sending him to go see or bother someone else.

None of us children knew that somewhere in the stable there was a big tree (
yolka
) waiting to be decorated and that it would become “the most beautiful tree in the world!”

14: Christmas Church Service

It was Christmas morning and all of us children were wide awake, but we were forbidden to come downstairs until Mama came for us. We were lined up (still in our nightgowns) when we heard Babushka’s voice at the kitchen door. It sounded like another of Grandmother’s friendly commands, and this time it was directed at Petrovich. Grandmother said, “Petrovich, I wish very much that you would dress in your holiday attire this morning—we have all our young children here, and they must have a chance to see how Christmas is celebrated. We shall travel to the church service in the old-fashioned style.”

“Could I at least wear my cap instead of the top hat?” Petrovich was begging.

Soon it was settled, and Grandmother had won, as usual. Petrovich would dress up as he had done so many Christmases before all the changes started to come about.

Mama lined us up, still in our gowns, in front of the parlor door, which was still closed. It was Grandmother who opened the door, and there, standing in the middle of the parlor, was the most beautiful, decorated Christmas tree I had ever seen. The candles on the tree were already lit, and the whole room was filled with millions of glitters and sparkles from the tree.