Tosia: Chapter 10

Portrait of a Jewish woman in her own words, written by her daughter, Felicia Graber.
Updated January 25, 2025.
Part 10 of 10

The Belgian authorities would not give a foreigner a work permit. Therefore, Shlomo was compelled to somehow earn money on the black market with the few items he had brought with him from Poland. This could not last very long. If he were caught by the Belgian authorities, we would certainly be deported. So, he started to commute to the American Zone in Germany to make a living. That meant, of course, that I was left alone with the two children for weeks at a time. 

We discovered that one of his cousins, Ted Band, had survived and was living in Munich. We contacted him just in time to find out that he had married and that his wife had just given birth to a baby boy. We took the train to Munich, and Shlomo became the boy’s godfather. It was wonderful to see new Jewish life reborn even if it was on German soil. Ted had contacted an uncle in New York, Adolf Rosenzweig, who was sponsoring him to the US. So, soon after the birth, the three of them left for the Goldene Medina (the Golden Land). The trip to Munich also convinced me that I would never move to Germany as Shlomo had suggested several times. 

In the summer of 1947, Leon was finally able to have his hernia surgery. We asked a Rabbi to say the appropriate brachot (blessings) during the operation. The surgeon performed the bris (ritual circumcision), and our son was finally given his Hebrew name, Aryeh Ben Shlomo. I also found out through the Red Cross that my beloved brother Ignaz was alive and well in Palestine, which was soon to become the long awaited Erez Yisrael (the land of Israel). And indeed, a few months later, in May of 1948, our dream came true. We finally had our own land. Ignaz had married Iza, whom he had met in Palestine, was also from Poland. They both were very much involved in the fight for the new country which was attacked right after the Declaration of the Birth of Israel was declared.

Due to Shlomo’s skills, we soon were able to move to a better apartment. In fact, we moved twice, each time going to a better neighborhood and a bigger place. Unfortunately, this could not go on forever. It came to a point where I had to make a serious decision, to move to Germany or remain in Belgium and become an estranged wife. As much as I did not want to raise my children in Germany, it soon became clear that there was no other choice. So in 1951, I decided that our family life was more important and moved to Frankfurt on the Main where Shlomo had established quite a successful business. 

I did not want to send Felucja to a German school. I sent her instead to a boarding school in Mainz. The French occupying forces had established a school for the children of their military. Felucja spent the week there and came home every weekend. I missed her terribly. She was not only the child I had saved from Hitler’s clutches, but she was quickly becoming my closest friend and confidant. But I was determined to do what was best for her. 

Soon, it turned out that Felucja was terribly homesick and wanted to live at home. Thinking that the German public school would harbor all former Nazis, I enrolled her in a private school. That proved to be a grave mistake, as I soon found out. It seems that, under American directives, German schools had purged all former Nazis, who had then found work in the private school sector. I quickly yanked Felucja out of the private school and enrolled her in a girls’ public school. Our financial situation was improving rapidly. Shlomo was always a resourceful and able man. 

In 1951, I was finally able to go to Israel with Felucja and was reunited with my brother Ignaz. He and his wife had a little girl, born in 1948, the same year as Israel’s birth. It was a wonderful reunion. Ignaz had opened a dental practice and, as Iza was also a dentist, they were able to work together. Although he struggled, he was happy, and I was thrilled to be able to help him. Shlomo was very generous and allowed me to do so. The following summer, Iza came and spent the whole summer with us in Frankfurt because there was an outbreak of the dreaded polio in Israel. 

Life was good again except for the fact that I dearly wanted to get out of Germany. I was especially worried about Felucja. She would soon become a young teenager, and there was no social life for her. There was only a handful of Jews in Frankfurt, and just about half a dozen children, all younger than she was. What would become of her? She could not possibly socialize with the Germans. How would she be able to meet a future mate? I could not even stand the idea that she would date a German, let alone marry one. As Felucja was becoming more and more unhappy being in a German school, I decided to send her to a boarding school in England. Again, this was very difficult for me as I missed her terribly. But she loved it there. 

In the spring of 1957, we finally received our American immigration visa. We took the ship S.S. United States to the USA. In Brooklyn, we met Shlomo’s aunt Lina and uncle Adolf Rosenzweig, who had emigrated from Germany before the war. In addition, we met their children and grandchildren and reconnected with Shlomo’s cousin Ted and his family whom we had previously met in Munich. 

We received our green cards but needed to go back to Frankfurt as Shlomo had not liquidated his business. A reentry visa, valid for one year, allowed Shlomo to settle his affairs and Felucja to finish high school in England.

However, things did not work out as planned; Shlomo did not liquidate his business. He just ran out of strength to start all over again in a new country where he did not even speak the language. So, we let our visa lapse.

Felucja finished her studies in England, enrolled at the Johann von Goethe University in Frankfurt and was making plans to move to the States. That was her dream. But again, fate intervened. One of Shlomo’s American business connections introduced Felucja to the newly arrived U.S. Army Jewish Chaplain, First Lieutenant Howard Graber. It was love at first sight. 

Shlomo and I had mixed feelings about this match. Even though we like and approved of Howard, we were worried. He was orthodox and, although we felt a very strong connection to Judaism, we did not observe Jewish laws. Our religious life centered mostly around Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. I did light candles Friday night, as promised to my mother. The entire family was expected to attend the Shabbat (Sabbath) dinner. At just 19, Felucja was so young. Would she be able to change her lifestyle? How would she cope becoming a chaplain/rabbi’s wife with all the responsibilities that would entail? 

Felucja was considered a minor since she was under 21 and needed our permission to marry. Shlomo and I kept postponing signing this document, trying to give her more time to think it over. They had known each other for just two months; did she really know what she was doing? Could this be a hot, quick-burning love that would die out just as fast? Felucja was unyielding. She told us in no uncertain terms that if we did not sign, she would wait until she turned 21.

Finally, we caved. They were married on December 6, 1959. Unlike my dreams to live and work in a kibbutz, Felucja’s plans were realized, and we were happy to see how she adapted to her new lifestyle. Two years later, she gave birth to our first grandchild, and a second one followed 20 months after that.

On December 18, 1963, Felucja, Howard and their two children left for the States. I was heart-broken to see them leave but reassured that she was happy. As it turned out, my worrying about Felucja’s future had been unnecessary. Fortune smiled on her life, and that was most important for me. We still had our 17-year-old son, Leon, at home for a while. He was planning to go to college in the States. 

Eventually, he was accepted to Long Island University in New York, went to medical school, got married, had two sons and became a prominent physician. As luck would have it, both my children ended up living in St. Louis, Missouri. Eventually, our children were able to move Shlomo and me to St. Louis in the mid-eighties when he became ill.

Finally, in our last years, we all lived in the same city. It was a long, and at times, dangerous road, but we made it. We were able to see our children succeed, enjoy family gatherings at bar mitzvahs, the weddings of two of our grandchildren and the supreme happiness of even welcoming two great-grandchildren. 

Note from Felicia: Our parents came to St. Louis later in the 1980s. Our father had to be moved to a nursing home for the last year of his life. He died in June 28,1991. Our mother suffered a heart attack on Friday evening, November 18, 1993, while having Shabbat dinner with us. She was rushed to the hospital and died during an angioplasty that night. By that time, our parents were the proud great-grandparents of four.

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Read more by Felicia Graber.