Drawer Drops and Diaper Drives
My mother gave me a gift this year. It was a bound and translated copy of her own mother’s letters to her, written and mailed from a refugee settlement in Salzburg in the late 1940′s. These letters were accounts of family happenings back in Europe and messages of love to a daughter who had pursued hope across the Atlantic, in Canada. Impossible to ignore, there were also requests for material goods to be sent back if her daughter’s new world prosperity would at all allow; requests that were indicators of the difficult living conditions in Europe’s rubble.