Dispatches from 20th century immigrants, part six: Brigitte

Brigitte Erbe’s family was relocated from Germany to Tetschen, Czechoslovakia towards the beginning of World War II when her accountant father was assigned a job working for the German government. Brigitte was born in Tetschen and lived there until the day of her fourth birthday, December 5, 1944, the very day the invasion of Russian soldiers forced the family to leave Tetschen and escape to Frankfurt. This excerpt from Brigitte’s essay about celebrating Christmas that year is the final installment of our 2016 series featuring writers from my memoir classes who are immigrants to the United States. Thanks for reading!

by Brigitte Erbe

Christmas of 1944, the year I had just turned four years old, stands out above the others. My parents marveled when I told them that years later. To them, the Christmas of 1944 symbolized loss and deprivation.

We had made it to my uncle Anton’s house just before Christmas after a horrifying trip from Tetschen, my hometown in Czechoslovakia. We were refugees and had lost everything except for a few belongings in a wooden cart. We traveled in open coal wagons, spent nights in train stations and hotel rooms so cold the windows were covered in frost and my sister’s diapers froze on the line. The physical danger exacerbated our hardships — Russian soldiers threatened to shoot my father and our family was briefly arrested at the train station.

When we finally arrived, even if my parents had the money for Christmas presents, the city of Frankfurt had been bombed to rubble and there was no place to shop. Yet in my memory, that Christmas was also the very best.

The Christmas tree was in the corner of the living room, aglow in candle light when we entered the room. And Christkindl brought me the best presents of my entire life — none ever made me feel more special and important. I received a little wooden chair and a purse.

The little purse was used, made out of cardboard. It is still so vivid in my mind I could draw a picture. I put the little purse around my neck, anticipating kindergarten.

And here I was, with my very own chair. I never thought that a child could own her own furniture. It was the perfect gift!

My mother later told me that my uncle found an old beat-up children’s chair in the basement, and he and my father fixed it up as best they could. They didn’t think it amounted to much, but Christmas had bestowed on me a feeling of being grown-up. I was in heaven.

I hope that experiencing my joy that first Christmas gave my parents the feeling that, after all, they had found a new home.

The kids at Swift had a lot of energy and questions.

Back to me. Brigitte found a new home in America years later when she received a Fulbright Grant and left Germany to Attend Vassar College. After meeting and marrying American Bill Erbe in graduate school, she accepted a position at the Department of Teaching and Learning at Roosevelt University. Retired now, Brigitte volunteers twice a week for a third grade class at Swift Elementary, a Chicago Public School where a majority of the students are children of immigrants. The photo was taken last year when Brigitte invited Whitney and me to meet her beloved third-graders — they made us feel special!