The Past. The Present. The Future.

MY PERSONAL YARNS AND TALES by ANITA SULCS.

The Past.  The Present.  The Future.

This blog was created by mistake almost two years ago now and the original title 'In A Blink' was meant to be a post for my other blog that I write called 'Hoarder's Helping Hoarders'. But, strangely enough saw value in using this site for my personal stories that everyone seems to enjoy when I tell them and insist that I share them.  Now these tales will have a home.

The past, present and future!

All those three above play an important place in our lives.

The past gives us experiences to enrich us and hopefully be the wiser for it.

The present should never be squandered or wasted and let to slip by.  This is where we get a chance to improve on what went on before.

The future is the opportunity to path the way for something better and make what future we individually have to be a good one.

In regards to our ancestors past does affected where we are now.

What we do now affects those to come.

We can but wonder what will be and hope for the best.

All three are intertwined and connected and explains why we feel such a pull to know our ancestral past history.  It shapes us yet does not define us.  Hence, at some stage in our lives we start to question our very own history or story if you may and some even go in search for the answers to fill that void.

Where we came from.  Who was before us family wise.  Who were they.  Were they nice or a tyrant  What we did and the choices that shaped us from our childhood.  Most of which is very much out of our hands as a child.  Why we did we do what we just did.  Giving great thought or not to what tomorrow will bring.  Have we done enough for that last chapter in our lives to prove to all that has gone before us was worthwhile.  If not, do we get that last chance to do so or are we just destined to be cogs in the wheel of time.  Many of us will wonder and ponder these thoughts from time to time.  Some will do and some wont either due to circumstances out of their control or choice.

Who cares would be a good question.

This will be the meanderings of but one person in amongst the many billions before me and to come to document what she remembers of the stories that may matter being but 'one blink' in her ancestral line of past stories to be documented for her future generations to know accurately.

It is in time that fact and truth get lost and forgotten and it is important for some 'home' tales to be remembered and passed on as they truly were and not re-spun.

Have been watching 'Who Do You Think You Are?' recently, a series on television with well known people delving back in time into finding out who their ancestor's were beyond 2 or more generations.  It was this that made me think to use this blog as a most suitable way to start what I hope to be an assortment of memories, yarn's, tales and stories that I remember and have recorded from my parents and fellow family members from lands afar from where I sit now to avoid any future assumptions as this is how errors happen.

I noticed how official forms were filled in with the 'possible' blanks (ie Fathers name) as to what was put on paper or not.  Not everything on a birth document is always true.  I know of a few who decided it would be a lark to fudge what they wrote on their Census forms on Census night.  Most would be 100% accurate, but not all of mankind is 100% honest either, especially where no marriage took place or other types of perceived scandal, which is where investigation going far back that much more difficult.

Maybe, I can ask those who are still with us to elaborate on what is my family lineage and heritage as has been told to me so far.  Will try and find out more.  This will be my journey to unearth fact and make sure what we currently believe to be true is not fiction.

Many have said how fascinating my Mum's story is.  So I shall start there in no particular order by my viewpoint.

We spoke much of her journey and life experiences and wisdoms when she was getting closer to her passing.  I was the only child that traveled to Latvija with her to our homeland at the age of 20.  I will do my utmost best to honour my Mum and her story.

Here I am at my first job at a local University and straight out of Secretarial College when Mum asked all her three surviving girls (there were four and a story to be told later on) who would like to join her and Grandmum as they were planning to travel to Latvija to meet our surviving family for the first time since they escaped during WWII and in our lifetime.  There was my Mum's side of the family, The Karklins, which as fortune had it flourished.  Then there was Dad's side of the family who we believed all had perished during WWII, The Sulcs.  Last there was Mum's first husbands family as Mum was widowed young and was my older sisters family, The Brigiem, with whom I still have contact with to this day thankfully.

My oldest sister couldn't due to being a school teacher and living in another state at that time, but would have loved to and always regretted not going.  We spoke about that just before she died.  She asked me about that trip and I was happy to relay what I remembered.  She was so sad that that was one of the things she never had the chance to see Latvija and our family.  Happy and sad tears were shed.  The next sister had shown no interest and had years ago turned her back on anything to do with her ethnic background to become as Aussie as she could.  Both sisters had not long been married at that time.

First sister married a Latvian who lived in another city and due to this she moved there to start her new life. A part of me always felt that she had embraced this to not be around her sister who had hooked up with her ex-boyfriend that had made her Form 6 year diabolical.  Ah the thickening plot.

The other sister married her sisters ex-boyfriend (now you see the thickening plot) who was of British/Australian background and due to events that played out not all that thrilled with his ethnic in-laws. He had a run in with Mum many moons prior to marrying said daughter.  He dated the other daughter first before marrying this one.  What had taken place with the first sister was he decided to drop that first sister weeks prior to her Matric Exams and in those days all your points hinged on those exams for entry into where ever.  She nearly failed and due to this Mum went and told this young man exactly what she thought of him, hence why he was always passive aggressive (especially when no one was looking) towards her and Dad all those years. Why he hooked up with this other sister I will never understand as he simply hated Mum and as for the other daughter she never felt comfortable with him now being around again.  Years on the sister married to him crowed to me that the other had wanted desperately to marry him and she had gotten him.  Other sister was horrified as she had no interest and couldn't be further from the truth. All I could come up with was that this other sister just wanted to be as far removed from her 'immediate' family as possible and achieved it by marrying this bloke who shunned us and our culture.  That and her sibling rivalry towards her other sister to get something she had.  Or so she thought.  Over their married life their loathing then extended me as being the much younger one who had watched on.  I wouldn't let them get the best of me.  I found his and my sisters treatment of Mum and Dad in poor form.  I watched all those years as they took constant pot shots at Mum especially who tolerated it with such grace.  But I am not so graceful and would take issue with them when I thought they had overstepped the boundaries of civility and I know and remember that moment it happened when they really started to include me into the equation with Mum and Dad and that was in 1999.  But that is a whole other story altogether.

The last one was myself and when Mum asked I was 19 and single and had always wanted to see my Mum and Dad's ancestral homeland.  This was to me a wonderful opportunity.  I jumped in without any hesitation and started saving for my airfare, tour and spending money and had to move home in order to do so.  Not only did I get to meet these long lost family members, but I was yet to appreciate that I got to see it through my Mum's eyes as well as the added bonus of my Grandmum.

We saved and we organised and one more family member came along who was married to one of my Grandmum's older brothers, Oskar's, Tante Lily and a long time family friend whom we lovingly referred to as Little John.  He met my Mum and Grandmum on the boat coming over to live in Australia.  We nearly took over the entire group.

Latvija was under USSR occupation at that time and very much behind the Iron Curtain/Wall.  Extremely supressed.  Many Russians were sent to live in Latvija to assist in diluting the Latvian language.  Latvija was a prized gem for the then Soviets.  Due to it's geographic location and I always ventured to add the all year round ice free port to be attractive as well has been a much sought after 'must have' for all including nearby neighbours as history tells us so.

The Baltic Tour we ended going on was organised by a Travel Company called Palanga Tours, which was owned and run by a Lithuanian and his wife who was Greek, the Cibas's.  I wasn't to know it then, but I ended up working at Palanga Tours some years later.  Such is life's little mysteries.  And a story to impart much later on.

By now I was very much in love and was to travel without my Garry whom I missed the whole time I was away.

The tour set out from Sydney with all group participants flying in from various places around Australia.  We were all fresh to this overseas travel bizo and had no clue as to how Airlines operated.  A practice that still takes place to this very day.  But boy were we to be taught quickly.

We make our way from the Sydney local terminal to the International terminal to get to the gate for our Cathay Pacific flight for us 5 from Melbourne to be told that the flight was fully booked and we could not go with this flight!  We were flabberghasted as all the other part of our group were already on board.  That meant just over half our group were to travel without us!  Our newly met Tour Leader from the Sydney Palanga Office was wheeling and dealing for it to only fall on deaf ears.  Being newbies to this travel caper we learnt there and then that many airlines have the practice of overbooking a flight as there are always no shows and late comers.  We were neither late and certainly a show as we were putting on a show.  Looking back it was hilarious.  But the ground staff didn't realise when telling us initially that we couldn't get on board as they presumed we were individuals and not part of a Tour Group.  They sure regretted say no to us as we were jumping up and down with tears flowing everywhere.

Here I am at 20 and the next youngest in this group just so happened to be my Mum (44 at the time) and the rest of the group just so happened to be around my Grandmums age which was 65 plus.  We were becoming frantic.  This was our trip of a lifetime.  One that we had planned and saved for for over a year now and could see slipping away and ruined.

In the end, Mum just said quitely to the airport staff that if we were not on that flight then we want our baggage back now and as it had been already loaded this meant holding up the flight with the possibility of the entire group walking off.  This put the staff into a spin and low and behold miraculously seats were found for us in First Class.

Yes, folks, we 5 Melbournites got to travel first time overseas First Class.  Reality got to kick in on my next sector as we were to fly Aeroflot thereafter.  I was in for a shock, but what a lovely way to start.  In the meantime, I was thoroughly enjoying myself with my family.  First Class is a dream.

Our first destination was Singapore where I was to find out that out of the entire groups luggage mine was 'lost'.  I had fortunately packed one spare set of clothes and toiletries in my cabin bag.  However, the only good knickers I had was what I was wearing as I thought to only include these 'paper' disposable knickers that were available at the time for the long haul flights in mind only.  All my decent underwear was in my suitcase that was now lost along with all the presents for many of the family in Latvija.

The baggage in the end has it's own story as well and will unfold soon enough.

I traveled for nearly 4 weeks with one pair of jeans, one jean jacket, one jean stud through midi skirt (which I ended up giving away to a wonderful Lithuanian girl as jeans were a valuable commodity in the USSR back then.who had to travel from Lithuania to see and be with one of the group participants as he was not allowed to go any further than Latvija and not his homeland of Lithuania and will elaborate later on), one platform leather sandle type shoes, 2 pair of socks one with the separate toes and multicoloured, two T-Shirts, one jumper, one scarf, two bras and my one and only silk bikini knickers and my one disposable paper knickers that turned out to be made to last a little longer than at first intended.  All this for flying mode only.  This was it for the duration.

Being that we went through Asia to get to the USSR meant I couldn't buy any shoes as they didn't supply large sizes to fit my delicate tootsies.  Also, once we got to the USSR it meant finding my luggage where ever it was while there was going to be impossible due to the communication issues with the then USSR and food and clothing were not readily available either let along that looked like being made this century.

To say I cried and got shitty about not having my 'personal items' would be an understatement.  I was literally stuffed, but it sure taught me a huge lesson in becoming flexible and going with the flow when things go wrong.

Our stopover time in Singapore was wonderful with all the sightseeing and fresh tropical fruit for breakfast and the Orchid Gardens and all the new sights and sounds and smells of the street markets.  I had a ball with Mum and Grandmum.  I shared a room with Mum thankfully.  Being that I was bagless she got me to buy a suitcase to fill with anything we bought along the way.  She knew how hard it was for me with no luggage and offered me her clothes, but I just couldn't yet wear my Mum's conservative early 70s clothes for quids.  But give it time.  It is amazing how things can change.  Desperation took a little while as I am stubborn to the core.

Next stop was Moscow and the Aeroflot flight was hilarious.  The flight attendant was very excited at having fresh milk being available on board and went to great lengths to tell us how lucky we were.  A sign of things to come.  On arrival to Sheremetyevo Airport as it was known back then our group was treated to the utmost scrutiny of what we were taking in.  We had to declare what was a gift and then paying a hefty gift duty and so forth for even more corrupt gauging.  As Mum had two fishing lines in her suitcase the officer was waving them around right in front of her face.  I had never seen such aggressive behaviour and I had never seen my Mum so steady as she was while this went on.  She calmly replied that while in Latvija she was going to go fishing.  They were not going to get an extra cent from her.  They could've confiscated the rods, but because we didn't make any trouble really they let the matter go.  They gave up on her in the end as she had an answer to all their questions.  She had experienced this type of action and witnessed it many times over during her wartime years so was prepared that this could happen.  A total eye opener for me.  I had new found respect for her after that moment.

The entire group got a good going over and one of the elderly folk was taken for an internal search and I got grilled where was my luggage in my bag as it was rather empty and I just kept saying 'I bloody don't know the airlines lost it when I left Australia, so you bloody well find it' in the end they also gave up on me.  The entire group bonded over this experience.  They tried to humiliate us, but did not succeed.

In was in the USSR in the Cold War years and as I traveled with my elderly group through Moscow to our most beautiful, grand yet old hotel, I found what I saw of Moscow to be grey and stark and had an air of grimness over it.  I saw women with headscarves sweeping the streets and footpaths with brooms made of twigs.  Even the side of the river walls were being cleaned manually.  All hard labour.  Yes, everyone had a job, but what a job it was.  It just felt extremely sad.  Grey and drab with more grey.  In total contrast to the Kremlin with it's Gold layed pilars and walls.

What surprised me next was when we arrived at our Hotel we then had to give up our passports for the duration of our stay to our Hosts whilst in the USSR and promptly given an Intourist Guide as well.  This did not sit well with me and made me feel very vulnerable.

We toured the city sights including the Red Square to see Lenin's tomb where we had to line up for hours and then file past with instructions to move sideways of the glass case where Lenin was lying 'In State' and told in no uncertain terms by the scary armed guards to never stop moving.  It was horrid and scary, all at the same time.

Even though St. Basil's Cathedral was all boarded up and in disrepair, Grandmum told me how she attended that church on one of her visits as a little girl with her Grandmum in-between wars not long before the Russian Revolution I believe.  I will have to check the years to confirm this.  I stood there imagining what it would look like inside.  One day I hope to see this.  We secretly took a photo of us together with part of the Cathedral behind us at such an angle for the armed soldiers not to know just for Grandmum to remember.  We were not allowed to take photos of certain places and was very much frowned upon and dealt with swiftly if they thought you had done so without any pause or apology whatsoever and this was one of those places.  Armed guards were everywhere.

I also started noticing not much movement of people.  The shops were bare and lifeless.  I also saw long queues leading to a small door to only find out in Riga the same thing went on.  I was curious as to the harshness of the way of life that one led there.  These lines will become clear later on, but it certainly was a way of daily life.  Stand in a queue just in case!

On one afternoon we were taken to the original Moscow Circus building.  It was round and very very old.  Centuries I believe with bears and horses.  It was magical in most parts apart from the bears which worried me and still don't like what I saw looking back now.  The straw and the smell and clowns and the acrobats all within this rock hard immovable circle.  I remember it more with sadness than in any other way.

While in Moscow we were especially taken to the Underground Railway Station and the one that was donated and paid for by Latvija.  Many of the stations were 'donated' by the countries they occupied.  Not sure if they were donated willingly though.  However, that Underground Railway was something else.  If I remember one had bloody massive Crystal Chandelliers hanging.  Each Station was a work of architectural art.  Simply amazing yet built upon pain, blood, sweat and tears and more than likely death mixed in there somewhere!  My heart sank and I just couldn't see the joy in the obvious magnificence.  For me it was tainted and yet we were being taunted with it by our Hosts.

Our next stop was what I was looking forward to the most, Riga, Latvija my parents homeland.  Soon for me to feel my homeland as well.  Something I never got till I placed my first footstep on Latvian terra firma.

But, before we left Mosco, the Intourist people organised a cocktail party for our group and some USSR Diplomats and Dignantry's to meet and greet us.  It was the wierdest event. I still don't get why they did this.  We were just a bunch of tourists really of no importance.  Mum just kept telling me to keep my mouth shut as she was sure there were KGB agents in among them.  Maybe, one of our travelers was under their suspect list or such.  Not all that uncommon back then.  One such Military Dignantry came up to Mum and myself and enquired as to what was I wearing around my neck.  I had this very small coat of arms with the Latvian flag colours on it.  Totally forbidden/Запрещено and profoundly illegal/незаконной as Latvija was considered a soviet country.   Mum kicked me and I piped up that it was the crest from a Yacht Club that I was a member of called Port Melbourne.  It was all I could come up with at a moment's notice.  He kept on  quizzing me for what felt like a very long time about the club and was I good at the sport and I replied no still learning.  Phew.  I had just attended some function at the PMYC and kept my answers as close to what I knew without flinching.  Eventually he was sort of satisfied, but he knew what it was and that was the colours of the Latvian flag.  This passive way sure does work as you can see their hackles flaring up.  My Mum couldn't stop laughing that I had the hide to show up to this function with that around my neck.  She kept on saying it is like showing a red flag to a bull.  But we all had a great old time laughing about this for years to come.

Through this tour I got to know my Mum as just more than a Mother.  I got to see and get to know 'her'.  Who she was and why she was.  At the time I did appreciate it sort of, but it has only been through the passage of time that I now fully appreciate the gift that I had been given.  That one on one time with my beautiful Mum.

Grandmum was a whole other story.  We had glimmers of times where she let me in and other times where she resented me.  I was the baby in this group and you would think I would have had a miserable time.  On the contrary I was spoilt rotten as all the group looked upon me as their granddaughter and felt for me that I had no luggage so when I went to buy something like food or a drink invariably one of them would insist on buying it for me.  If I remember, I think I came back with more money than I left with!

Due to the fact that Grandmum liked the limelight to be on her at all times and made no bones about it she really was getting more and more upset by the day with all the group spoiling me.

While in Moscow, I was alternating between the good pair of undies with the 'paper' ones.  On our last night I washed my one and only good pair and placed it on the iron heaters that were in this old magnificent hotel to dry.  We had an early start, packed and once at the airport lining up to get on board our flight to Riga finally and it was only then I realised I had left my one and only good pair of undies still drying back at the hotel and just burst into tears knowing full well all I had left was my paper ones!

The entire group tried to console me asking what was the matter?  They were really concerned about me.  All I could get out between tears and gulps was 'Iiiii ... left ..... my.... undies .... in..... the..... hhhh..... hotel....' for them to all roll around in racous laughter.  They all thought this a great joke.  Well, that just made matters worse for me as it was then I knew I had only one other option open to me and that was to use my Mum's underwear and I just cracked it big time didn't I.  I calmed down eventually and found the funny side of it and hence my story I now fondly refer to as 'when I left my dundies in Moscow'!

I relented once in Riga to borrow one of Mum's least offensive underpants and even resorted on the colder days one of her woollen Jackets.  When I look at the photos I can see the panty line from my Mum's underwear with my very tight jeans and another with Mum's more reasonable Jackets.  Now when I see these photos they always put a smile on my face instead of a frown.

Mum died nearly 6 years ago (from exposure to a chemical she worked with that give one liver cancer and the company knew it was fatal to work with yet chose to stay quite about it to only go offshore when all the Asbestos palava was going on and shortened her life by 15 to 20 years and will get into this later on) so boy am I grateful that I did get to do this tour with her and so much more.  I learnt so much by just being together.  Mum was torn from her homeland at such a very young vulnerable pre-teen age just as WWII broke out and luckily her Mum decided to leave just in case knowing full well what the Russians would want and that was Latvija in their clutches so fled across the Baltic Sea to survive the bombings as many were sunk and perished with the view to return when it all blew over.  They made it through and criss crossed Europe with many of the other displaced people over the war years to stop along the way in certain villages to finally ending up after the war ended in one of the many German displaced person's camps.

Not many countries took all of these displaced people.  Germany was out of the question.  England well they had more that they could cope with as did many of the European countries.  Canada want only couples with very young children.  Americal only wanted couples and so forth.  Grandmum was too old and single with a teenage daughter.  They never did fit any criteria.  There were 2 countries that were more flexible and that was Argentina and Australia.  Mum's entire teens years were spent on the run and a whole other story that I will get to, but they chose Australia with the sole reason being that they spoke a 'little' English and Australia was an English speaking country.  Otherwise, I could have been Argentinian!  Mum's tenacity to survive knew no bounds and that story I will share as we go along.

As for Grandmum, well she vaselated from being wonderful to being a shrew.  This was partly due to the fact that upon our arrival she would be seeing her womanising and carousing ex husband that she was separated from just prior to WWII breaking out for the first time since she and Mum fled Latvija, at Riga Airport along with whomever else would be there to greet us.  She made sure Mum and I felt her pain.  Now on reflection and having had my very own horrid ex 'who done me wrong' story, I now reflecting back do get how she must have felt back then at this prospect.  Funny thing is they were never officially divorced and he had remarried to another woman who so happened to have a daughter that we were all about to meet.  I just wished I had understood more now back then.  We supported her, but not as I suspect we should have.  Mum was wanting to see her Dad and me my Granddad.  It must have hurt her more than I ever realised.  It must have been one tough moment for her and time to handle and deal with and get through.  But that she did.  Don't worry she gave him a hard time and he got his albeit some 30 odd years on.  A woman scorned never forgets.

Grandmum died in 1999 just one month short of her 95th birthday.  She had been through so much including the Russian Revolution, WWI, WWII, been separated, been displaced with one child (my Mum), restart her life in another country Australia in WA on the other side of the world in her later 40s to learn her fifth language and to find love once more and resettle in Melbourne and experienced many momentus historical moments from that century she lived in.  She was one tough cookie.

Now, we were on our way to Riga on the Aeroflot flying bus.  I remember feeling excited and eager to get there with my stomach doing summersaults.  The crappy plane didn't help either.  I can only guess how all the others felt.  All of us were in the same boat and in this particular case plane.

We were on our way and I was on my way to knowing who I was and am.

Next episode/installment will be all of us landing at Riga Airport and what I encounter with Mum and Grandmum.

All will unfold slowly.