Konrad and Alexandra (PDF) - Rolf Gross

We buried him in the cemetery at G—, the town where my parents had lived since my father’s retirement. Mother waslooking forward to a new life, planning to visit us at Christmastime.Mother gave me Alexandra’s portrait and a thin packet of letters. My father’s treasure which he had saved from the Poleswhen we were deported from Silesia. I knew they existed, but he had never shown them to me.A few months later, before she could visit us, Mother died from a massive cerebral aneurysm.On our return flight to Los Angeles, gliding at thirty thousand feet above the ice-fields of Greenland, I opened thepackage of letters. Those long flights strip time and space of meaning, one departs at twelve noon and arrives at two inthe afternoon, on the other side of the earth. The sun has barely moved, meanwhile one has eaten three meals and losttwelve hours of one’s life.The package contained seven letters and the last postcard from Geneva, all in Alexandra’s tiny hand. The entirecorrespondence of a mother to her abandoned son, seven letters in twenty-five years!Alexandra’s diminutive scribble was difficult to read. I had never seen anything written by her. She wrote in the old,German Sütterlin script, which my my father had still used, but we had no longer been taught in school. The long,energetic downstrokes of the lower-case f’s and s’s and the generous loops of the capital R’s and H’s spoke of herwillpower and passion, but contradicted her otherwise highly controlled writing, yet there was nothing pretentious orartificial about her handwriting. It was slow reading, occasionally I needed Andrea’s help to decipher a word.I read oneletter after the other, handing them page by page to Andrea.There was her last letter of 1939 that Schulenburg had smuggled out in his diplomatic pouch.…Yesterday I learned that v. d. S. is in Moscow. I have arranged to fly to Moscow for a medical conference tomorrow inthe hope that I can slip this letter to him personally, so I don’t have to write in code. If I cannot get a hold of him, I willhave to destroy the letter, it is too dangerous…"Another letter was postmarked 9 August, 1920 in London, Alexandra’s birthday.…You won’t guess who showed up in Tbilisi, after you and the Germans had left, Oliver Wardrope! He came asambassador with the English troops who replaced the Germans. You never met him, but he was a close friend andstudent of Ilia before Leist inherited his place close to Ilia’s heart. Like Leist, Wardrope translated the ‘Panther Skin.’ Iknew him well as a girl, so our unexpected reunion was a pleasure. He will mail this letter to you, my lost child, fromLondon.In contrast to the Germans, the English with Wardrope's exception, he speaks Georgian, are not liked, ‘they have nosoul’ Konrad would say, they are too unemotional for this southern country.Her earliest letter had been mailed from Germany in June of 1919 by A. v. Reullaux, Berlin, whom I had never heard of.Written two months after Otto’s departure, it was short but most heart-wrenching.Tbilisi, 12. June, 1919My dearst Otto,After months of unhappiness because of your departure, I found you today at the Bredow’s in East-Prussia. Christine andI went on a "flight" together in search of you. You looked happy and in good hands. This knowledge makes me incrediblyhappy. I know now that you are safe, and that I will never be completely separated from you wherever you might be.I should have taught you this skill, we would not need to write letters.You found your way back to your earliest love, and Mouse looked beautiful. I bless her for making you happy.We are in good health and spirits, although events around us are turbulent. Konrad is now a full professor and the headof the department of natural sciences. After 20 years wrangling with the Russians the Georgian University of Tbilisi hasfinally become a reality.Your sister sends you greetings. She lives at Deda’s and helps her take care of little Asmat.I teach a course in healing at the hospital to three young, unusual people, Sagdulla Bakhrami from Samarkand, BerthaWagenbauer from Elisabethtal, and Christine Ortaladze, who has become my close friend.You may tell Claudia that I succeeded in teaching someone to "fly" and to heal who had no experience in this strange art—we had a long argument with Claudia’s father about this subject on my last visit to Munich. Professor Dahl was verycritical of my arrogant self-confidence in my "occult" capabilities. It can be done!How are Niko and Claudia, my special brother and my dear friend? How is their child, Klaus? He must already be a bigboy. I long to see them. And how is goodhearted v. d. S.? Was the trip to Germany as exciting as you had hoped?I love you with all my heart, even if you must have often felt neglected and unloved by me. I will hover around you andprotect you, have confidence in your extravagant, strange mother. Give my thanks and greetings to Clara and Joachimand thank Friedrich von Bredow and his wife for giving you shelter. Don’t forget to kiss the Mouse from me.I embrace you, my Tuscan childwith LoveAlexandraP.S. I shall entrust this letter to Alexander von Rollov. His name is a Russian version of Reullaux, an old East PrussianHuguenot name. Rollov has been the director of the botanical gardens. He decided to leave for Germany. Konrad willreplace him at the gardens.211