|
“Marianne, Marianne Berentz, start packing. We are going to Russia!” Andreas gave his wife a swat on the rump with his hand as he pulled a trunk from under the stairs.
“What? Have you gone mad? You almost made me spill the soup. And my name is Marianne Reschke now, you big ox. You changed it six months ago.”
“Yes, I know, my love.” Andreas kissed his wife and began pulling clothes from the drawers of the small cabinet he had made as a wedding gift for his lovely bride.
“Sit down. The soup is ready. It will get cold. Now tell me about this wild dream you have about going to Russia.”
Andreas sat at the table, pulled a piece of bread from the freshly baked loaf and started to shove it into his mouth. Marianne slapped it from his hand.
“We must thank God for what he has given us first, Andreas.” Andreas said grace and the two began to eat. “Now tell me about your wild dream.”
“It is no dream. Many are going. Look outside. See the neighbors packing their wagon. They told me about it. Catherine, the Empress of Russian, is giving land to us Germans if we come there. Just a few acres, but we would have our own land where we can grow wheat and corn and potatoes and raise our children. We could…”
Marianne stopped him. “And leave our beloved Germany? No! Andreas, I could never leave my country. My family is here and this is where I want to raise my children, right here in Germany. The war with France is over and there will be peace now. And have you heard? Joseph is going to make Germany into a modern country. It is settled. We stay!
“But Marianne, we could come back after a few years, after we have made some money. I promise. Do you want to raise our children in a little two room shack like this?”
“It is good enough.”
“No! It is not! We are going. Finish your soup and start packing.”
Marianne could see that her husband was determined to go to Russia. “Okay, I will go, but not now. We must make plans, my love. We must visit our parents and tell them we are leaving. And have you forgotten that we have a child coming soon? We must have a cradle for our baby and clothes and…
“Yes, yes, you are right. There is much to do. We will wait.”
* * *
“Andreas, how much farther? I am so tired. We must stop soon. I feel our child kicking. He wants to rest, too.”
“How do you know it is a boy?”
“A woman knows these things.”
“You are right, a woman knows. We will stop at the next town and find a place to stay for the night.”
“Thank you, my love.” Marianne rubbed her hands over her large belly and wondered how long it would be before they would come to the next town.
* * *
The Reschkes stopped at Lubbenau for the night. Marianne knew it would not be long before her child was born so Andreas asked at the town center if there was a doctor that would examine her.
“She’s in fine shape, Mr. Reschke. Since it is her first child, the little one could come in a week or month. I think it is safe for you to travel farther.” Andreas thanked the good doctor, offered to pay him, but the doctor refused to take any money. “It took little time. Go your way and good luck on your journey.”
* * *
“Andreas, we must stop soon. I think it is time.”
“There’s a town just ahead. The sign says Grabowiec – 1 km. We will stop there.”
Marianne had her first born child in Grabowiec. They named him after his father, Andreas. He was a healthy child and he grew to be strong like his father.
* * *
It was about 1803 when young Andreas, son of Andreas and Marianne, took to wife the lovely Marianne Wendland. He and his family had traveled east towards Kiev, Ukraine, when he was young and had settled in Mielnica. This is where Andreas and Marianne Wendland were married and settled down to have children. It had been over twenty years since their father had made the decision to go to Russia, but Catherine the Great, by which she was known, was still giving land to Germans, free of tax for three years.
“Marianne, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.” Andreas placed the cradle at her feet. “Okay, open them and look down.”
“Oh, Andreas, it is beautiful! And soon it will have a new born babe in it.”
“What shall we call him?”
“If it is a boy, I would like to call him Michael. If it is a girl, I like Emilie.”
“Then it better be a boy, because I don’t like the name Emilie.”
One month later, a tiny baby boy named Michael was lying in the cradle while his mother sang a soft lullaby to him. “Schlafe, schlafe, mein baby schön, schlafe.”
“Marianne, Marianne, come quickly…”
“Shh, you’ll wake the baby.”
Andreas spoke softly and led his wife outside. “Look, we have another calf. Molly just gave us another. More milk for the table, my dear. And the corn is growing tall. We have been well blessed, Marianne. It was a wise thing for father to bring us to Russia. Let us celebrate. Open a bottle of wine for supper and we will sing a song. And let us pray for many children.”
Andreas and Marianne’s prayers were answered and they had many children. And their first born Michael grew up and was strong and healthy like his father. They loved the little village of Mielnica and there they stayed. Both Andreas and Marianne were buried there. Some of their children remained in Mielnica, but Michael chose to go southeast about 30 kilometers where plots of land were being given to Germans by the Empress Catherine. There he fell in love with a beautiful young girl named Eleanore Eisner. They were married in Borecznia Wielka where they made their home.
|
|
 |
|
“Come to bed, Michael. I am cold.”
“Yes, it’s very cold outside. I must tend to the cattle first. Boris will keep your feet warm. Boris, come here. Up, boy, onto the bed. Keep Mommy warm till I come back. Good dog.”
Michael left the house. Twenty minutes later he returned. His dark eyebrows were caked with white frozen snow. He unwrapped the scarf from around his face and removed his parka and boots and placed them by the fireplace. Water trickled across the kitchen floor as the snow melted.
Michael warmed his hands over the fire, and then went to the bedroom. “Down Boris, now it’s my turn to warm my wife.”
“You’ll need to warm more than your wife. We have a wee one in here to warm, too.” Eleanore pulled the covers down and patted her tummy.
“What! You are pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I am telling you. I just found out.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, Michael, I am certain.”
“Then tomorrow we will celebrate. We will send a message to my brothers and my parents in Mielnica. Johann is traveling there to see his cousin. I will send a letter with him.”
“And we must tell my parents, too. They will be so happy.”
* * *
It was September 7th of 1844 when Eleanore waved the yellow flag Michael had tied to the long pole. But Michael was far out in the wheat field and didn’t see it. She needed help and all the children except Wilhelm were in school. “Boris, go get Michael. Go, boy, go get Michael.” Boris was old and didn’t want to move from his warm place in the sun. Eleanore went to the kitchen and pulled a pan down from the peg. She grabbed a large spoon and took them outside. Banging on the pan she hoped Michael would hear her. The noise made little 3-year-old Wilhelm cry. She picked him up and waved the flag again. Michael turned and looked. He knew Eleanore needed him. This would be their seventh child and she was due any day now. He threw down his hoe and started running toward the house.
* * *
The doctor came from the bedroom, wiped his hands on a towel and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I was able to save the baby, but I’m afraid your wife…”
“No, no, please, doctor, don’t tell me my wife is gone.”
“I’m sorry. There was nothing I could do. But just before she passed on, she said she wanted to name the baby after you.”
* * *
“Congratulations, Michael. I think it is good that you should marry again.”
“You don’t think it is too soon?”
“Eleanore would want you to. And the children need a mother. You can’t continue running a farm and chasing after seven children. You need a wife. I have known Anna Karoline for many years. She is a fine young lady. She’ll be a good mother and a good wife. The Liefkes are a good family.”
“But Johann, she’s so young.”
“Better in bed. She’ll give you many children, my good man.”
“I have seven already. Do I need more?”
“She’ll want her own, Michael. Marry her.”
Michael and Anna Karoline Liefke were married at Kolo and Michael’s friend Johann’s prediction came true: Anna gave him many more children – ten to be exact. The last was born on the 8th of July 1865, five months after Michael died. Michael died at Borecznia Wielka on February 25, 1865. He never got to see Gustav, his seventeenth child, but his first born child, Andreas, from his first wife Eleanore, said a simple prayer over the grave after the village cantor had said his. Many villagers attended the ceremony. Tears were shed and the people slowly wandered off leaving the family alone.
“So what will you do now, Mother?” said Ernestine,” Anna Karoline’s first child.
“I will continue with the farm. The children will help. Perhaps someday we will return to Germany. My parents are thinking of going back to the country of the grandparents.”
“Christoph and I will come and help. Babiak is not far from here. We have no children yet, Momma. We will come when you need us.”
“Christoph is a good man. You married well. But the children will come. Be patient, my child. Now, where is Andreas, my husband’s first born child, and his new wife Justine and their children?”
“Momma, Andreas and Justine have been married for nearly three years now. They have two of their own, you know.”
“Yes, and how many did he have from his first wife, Anna Rosine?”
“Six, Momma. But the first two died very young. You remember how we all cried so. And Andreas and Justine lost their first two years ago.”
“Yes, I remember. But little Emilia survived, bless her heart. She is so tiny yet. I was blessed with ten and they all lived to grow to be healthy. But where are Andreas and Justine and the children?”
“Justine took them back to the house. Andreas is talking with Michael.”
“Ah, yes, Michael, his younger brother. The child that survived, but his mother died giving him birth. I am tired, Ernestine. Take me home.”
“Yes, Momma. You should rest.”
* * *
“Momma, Momma! Have you heard?” Ernestine came rushing in to her mother’s bedside. She had taken ill and Ernestine had come from Babiak to care for her. It had been five years since Eleanore had buried her husband. She had worked hard to keep the farm going, but she had spent too much time in the fields the day before and had hurt her back.
“Have I heard what, Ernestine?”
“Andreas and Justine are moving! They are taking the children and are going to Kiev!”
Eleanore lifted her head from the pillow. A deep frown creased her brow. “Why would they want to move to Kiev? They have everything here, Ernestine.”
“Andreas thinks he might be able to get a position at the University there. It would be better money and the work would not be as hard. He never liked farming, Momma. He always liked teaching better. You know that.”
Eleanore let her head fall back onto the pillow after Ernestine had fluffed it for her. “Yes, and he is a good teacher, too. But we will all miss him so. When are they leaving?”
“Very soon. They want to reach Kiev before winter. And before Justine’s baby comes.”
“But Kiev is so far away. Will we ever see them again? I fear I will go to my grave before I see the children again.”
* * *
Andreas and Justine Reschke had left Borecznia Wielka in late July, but Justine had not felt well during their journey. The summer was very warm and the road was not good. Their wagon had become stuck in mud twice and once the wheel broke and Andreas had to remove it in order to repair it. Little Emilia was five years old and was good to help her mother, but she was small and could do little when her mother became ill. So they stopped at Krosniewice and found a small house for rent. They had only traveled forty kilometers from Borecznia Wielka.
It was November 3, 1870, when Justine’s baby was born. They named him Adolf.
“He’s a handsome little fellow,” boasted Andreas.
“That’s because he takes after you,” said Justine as she put the baby to her breast.
“Well, drink much of your mommy’s milk, Adolf, so you’ll grow up to be strong like your papa.”
“Will he be a farmer, Poppy?” asked little Emilia.
“I hope not. I hope he will become a teacher. But it will be for him to decide, my little muffin. Now up on my shoulders and we will go see if we can find some flowers for your mommy.”
* * *
Thirteen years later Andreas and Justine had still not reached Kiev. Justine had had five more children, but Pauline, the first child to be born after Adolf, had lived only a few months. The family had been persistent, however, and had continued their trek toward Kiev. They were only 150 kilometers away when Pauline was born at Julianowka. They remained there to bury Pauline, and then continued their journey towards Kiev.
“Do you think you will get a position at the University?” asked Justine.
“I am hoping I will. I have hungry mouths to feed and another coming soon.”
“Not until January. That’s a long time yet, Andreas. We should be in Kiev and settled into a nice warm home by then. Don’t you think?”
“I hope so. But the snow is coming early this year. Are you warm?”
“I am warm. I think I will crawl to the back of the wagon and check on the children.”
“Justine climbed back to the front of the wagon and sat next to her husband. “They are both sleeping like babies. And they are warm.”
* * *
Justine’s baby was born at Sablotschitz on February 1, 1875. The winter had come early and it was not safe for the Reschkes to travel to Kiev with small children so they stayed at Sablotschitz intending to go on to Kiev when spring came. But Andreas had received bad news from the University at Kiev. They had not arrived in time and the position he was hoping to get had been given to someone else.
Andreas was very depressed when he opened the letter and read it to his wife.
“I am so sorry, Andreas. Perhaps if we wait here, another position will open up next year. Perhaps if we pray God will hear our prayers.”
“Yes, perhaps. We will stay for awhile. But now we have to think of a name for our new baby. You decide, Justine.”
“Well, I like Alwine, Anna, Augusta, or….”
“Are we going through the entire alphabet?”
“No, or Eleanore, after your mother, or Juliane, or…”
“Yes, Juliane! I like that name.”
“Then she will be named Juliane.”
* * *
The Reschkes remained in Sablotschitz for three years hoping that Andreas would get a letter from the University of Kiev with news of an opening to teach there, but it never came. After the birth of two more healthy children, he became discouraged.
“We’re going back home, Justine. Start packing. I’m not waiting any longer. I will teach somewhere else.”
“You are a good teacher, Andreas. You have taught here and they will miss you. Why don’t we stay here a little longer.”
“No! We are going back home. I miss my parents. Don’t you miss yours?”
“Yes, Andreas. I will start packing.”
* * *
The Reschkes began their journey in the summer of 1881 when the roads were dry. The wagon was filled with furniture and clothing, but they had another ox this time to help pull the heavy load. Two cows and a horse were tied to the rear as they pulled away from their little house just after sunrise. Neighbors waved goodbye, some could be seen shedding tears. Andreas and Justine had been loved by everyone in the little village and they were sorry to see them go.
The journey was difficult for the family. The summer was very warm and three-year-old Ottilie became restless and cranky. Three weeks after leaving Sablotschitz they arrived at the village of Julianow.
“Andreas, can’t we stay here for a few days? The children are tired of traveling and I think Juliane has caught another cold. She has been coughing too much today.”
“Yes, Justine. I will try to find a place that will take us in for a week or so. I see a sign just ahead. Perhaps they have room for us.” Andreas clicked his tongue and the oxen pulled the heavy load forward.
But the Reschkes did not stay for just a week or two. Andreas was offered a position to teach at Julianow and this is where their next child, Gustav, was born. It was on May 3rd of the year 1883 when Justine presented her husband with a boy.
“A boy! Finally you have given me another boy, Justine, and a brother for Adolf! He will be so happy when he comes home from school. He was beginning to think he would have nothing but sisters to tease him.”
“Yes, and his sisters will be happy to have another brother to tease, too.”
“You are happy here, Justine. Is it not so?”
“I am happy, Andreas. You are a good husband and father. God has been good to us.”
“Then we will stay here for a while, if it will make you happy.”
“I would like that,” Justine replied.
* * *
The Reschkes remained at Julianow until 1886. Adolf had completed his schooling and wanted to become a teacher like his father. He also had the desire to become a preacher. Julianow was a small community and there was no place for Adolf to receive the training he needed to do either, so Andreas decided to move to Lublin.
“There is a fine school there, Adolf,” his father had said. “And I have enough money to pay. “If you are not accepted there, we will go to Kolo. They know me there, and I know you will be accepted.”
* * *
It was in1897 when Adolf and his family settled in the little village of Janowiec. One year later Adolf married Juliane Augusta Heinrich. She had been born December 16, 1873 in Sablotschitz, the same village where two of Adolf’s sisters were born. Shortly after they were married, Adolf began his teaching career which lasted for twenty-three years. Juliane gave him thirteen children. The first child, Emily, died when she was just one month old, but the other twelve all lived to be healthy and strong.
(Continued with the autobiography of Adolf Reschke)
|
|
|
