niamh
Senior Registered
Hi, everyone.
I promised Karoliina I'd write about my recently recovered memories. Combined with what I already knew, I have a little past life condensed autobiography. It took me a while to get up the nerve to share it, but here it is:
My name was Magdalena. When I was little, everyone called me Magda, but when I grew up, I got my friends to call me Lena because it sounded more modern and American to me.
I was born around 1930 in an Eastern European city, I'm almost certain it was Budapest. My father was a banker, very well off, a kind man who doted on me. My mother was a proud beauty, strict and traditional. I was a late in life child for my parents. My only sibling was a brother about 8-10 years older than me. I idolized him.
I can remember our house, listening to musicians there, a trip to Warsaw with my father. When I was about 5-6 years old, we had to run away from our home in the middle of the night. My father had made some enemies. Either the military or a paramilitary group were coming to get us. We were Catholic, so I suspect my father's "offense" was political in nature. At the time, I wasn't told exactly what was going on, so that hampers my ability to understand it now.
We were very fortunate, as refugees go. My father was able to keep most of his money. When we ran away, we went to America, to New York. My father bought an apartment in Manhattan. It was large and well furnished. He continued working, he had a job in a bank in New York. He died about 2-3 years after we came to America. I was devastated.
After my father's death, I remember very little about my childhood. My brother died sometime during these years, perhaps in the war (?). The next clear memories I have are of being a young adult woman. I married a fellow named George, who was a friend of my brother's and had been a Naval officer in the war. We had one child, a beautiful daughter named Madeline. When she was still in diapers, I took her and left my husband. Madeline and I moved back in with my mother.
My life changed very significantly at that time. I started using the name Lena then. I dumped Madeline off on my mother, who was happy to take care of her. I spent almost every waking hour OUT somewhere. My memories are a blur of shops, theaters, restaurants, nightclubs, and parties. I drank a great deal and took a lot of Benzedrine. I had a whole string of lovers. My mother considered my behavior shocking and shameful, but I didn't really care, as long as I could keep on having fun.
I met my friend Eva not long after I left my husband. She became the most influential person in my life. She was a foreigner, like me. She was a bit older than me, but still young, beautiful, rich, and full of life. I have many memories of us together, and we are almost always laughing. Unlike me, Eva had a good deal of common sense and compassion. When I was being reckless, she was the person who stopped me from going too far and hurting myself or others . . . most of the time. As I said, she was a lot like me, which meant that she could be self centered and wild, too. We were quite a pair!
This stage of my life went on for about 10 years.
I didn't spend all my time in New York. My mother had a vacation home in Florida and she used to make me go there with her and Madeline. I hated it at first. There was nothing to do there -- no fashionable people and only two bars. One year, I went slumming for recreation. There was a sort of harbor like place nearby (this is where I remember the shipyard scenes from). Near that, some men were building a bridge. They lived in that area in a group of little shacks. I took one of these men as a lover. One of his roommates had a local girlfriend, and she became my lover, too.
After that, I kind of settled down. I don't know if I felt like I had reached the pinnacle of scandalous behavior, or if I was just getting old. I was getting on toward 30 at that time (which would have seemed ancient to me back then) and may have been feeling my age. Anyway, I still went to many, many parties and drank a lot, but I started to spend more time just relaxing. The bridge construction folks had left, and I went down to Florida more often, usually taking Eva with me. I found that I enjoyed the quiet from time to time. Eva got married during this time, by the way. Her husband's name was Charles (I think).
A year or so after this, Eva moved away temporarily. She went somewhere (I think California?) for several months. While she was gone, I met Richard. He was my One True Love. He was so special to me, I won't even bother trying to describe my feelings because I can't. Anyway, we got engaged only a few months after we met. When Eva got back, she and I got busy planning a big wedding. My mother didn't want me to marry Richard because he was a Jew, but I didn't care. I loved him and he was a good influence on me. I stopped my wild ways and even began spending time with Madeline, voluntarily.
The wedding was still a few months off when Eva and her husband invited Richard and me to go out on their boat. (I still can't tell if it was a large sailboat or a small yacht, but you get the idea.) Eva, her husband, and I were on the boat, waiting for Richard, when I managed to stumble, get hit over the head, and fall overboard. Eva's husband fished me out of the water. I was taken to the hospital. My head injury was very serious. I remember lying in the bed with Richard on one side and Eva on the other. He looked worried and I didn't understand why. Eva went to get a cup of coffee and I felt myself rising up out of my body. I knew then I was dying and that Richard had thought that I would. I didn't want to go before Eva got back, and tried to keep holding on to Richard's hand, but eventually I had to give up. This was in about 1962.
I promised Karoliina I'd write about my recently recovered memories. Combined with what I already knew, I have a little past life condensed autobiography. It took me a while to get up the nerve to share it, but here it is:
My name was Magdalena. When I was little, everyone called me Magda, but when I grew up, I got my friends to call me Lena because it sounded more modern and American to me.
I was born around 1930 in an Eastern European city, I'm almost certain it was Budapest. My father was a banker, very well off, a kind man who doted on me. My mother was a proud beauty, strict and traditional. I was a late in life child for my parents. My only sibling was a brother about 8-10 years older than me. I idolized him.
I can remember our house, listening to musicians there, a trip to Warsaw with my father. When I was about 5-6 years old, we had to run away from our home in the middle of the night. My father had made some enemies. Either the military or a paramilitary group were coming to get us. We were Catholic, so I suspect my father's "offense" was political in nature. At the time, I wasn't told exactly what was going on, so that hampers my ability to understand it now.
We were very fortunate, as refugees go. My father was able to keep most of his money. When we ran away, we went to America, to New York. My father bought an apartment in Manhattan. It was large and well furnished. He continued working, he had a job in a bank in New York. He died about 2-3 years after we came to America. I was devastated.
After my father's death, I remember very little about my childhood. My brother died sometime during these years, perhaps in the war (?). The next clear memories I have are of being a young adult woman. I married a fellow named George, who was a friend of my brother's and had been a Naval officer in the war. We had one child, a beautiful daughter named Madeline. When she was still in diapers, I took her and left my husband. Madeline and I moved back in with my mother.
My life changed very significantly at that time. I started using the name Lena then. I dumped Madeline off on my mother, who was happy to take care of her. I spent almost every waking hour OUT somewhere. My memories are a blur of shops, theaters, restaurants, nightclubs, and parties. I drank a great deal and took a lot of Benzedrine. I had a whole string of lovers. My mother considered my behavior shocking and shameful, but I didn't really care, as long as I could keep on having fun.
I met my friend Eva not long after I left my husband. She became the most influential person in my life. She was a foreigner, like me. She was a bit older than me, but still young, beautiful, rich, and full of life. I have many memories of us together, and we are almost always laughing. Unlike me, Eva had a good deal of common sense and compassion. When I was being reckless, she was the person who stopped me from going too far and hurting myself or others . . . most of the time. As I said, she was a lot like me, which meant that she could be self centered and wild, too. We were quite a pair!
This stage of my life went on for about 10 years.
I didn't spend all my time in New York. My mother had a vacation home in Florida and she used to make me go there with her and Madeline. I hated it at first. There was nothing to do there -- no fashionable people and only two bars. One year, I went slumming for recreation. There was a sort of harbor like place nearby (this is where I remember the shipyard scenes from). Near that, some men were building a bridge. They lived in that area in a group of little shacks. I took one of these men as a lover. One of his roommates had a local girlfriend, and she became my lover, too.
After that, I kind of settled down. I don't know if I felt like I had reached the pinnacle of scandalous behavior, or if I was just getting old. I was getting on toward 30 at that time (which would have seemed ancient to me back then) and may have been feeling my age. Anyway, I still went to many, many parties and drank a lot, but I started to spend more time just relaxing. The bridge construction folks had left, and I went down to Florida more often, usually taking Eva with me. I found that I enjoyed the quiet from time to time. Eva got married during this time, by the way. Her husband's name was Charles (I think).
A year or so after this, Eva moved away temporarily. She went somewhere (I think California?) for several months. While she was gone, I met Richard. He was my One True Love. He was so special to me, I won't even bother trying to describe my feelings because I can't. Anyway, we got engaged only a few months after we met. When Eva got back, she and I got busy planning a big wedding. My mother didn't want me to marry Richard because he was a Jew, but I didn't care. I loved him and he was a good influence on me. I stopped my wild ways and even began spending time with Madeline, voluntarily.
The wedding was still a few months off when Eva and her husband invited Richard and me to go out on their boat. (I still can't tell if it was a large sailboat or a small yacht, but you get the idea.) Eva, her husband, and I were on the boat, waiting for Richard, when I managed to stumble, get hit over the head, and fall overboard. Eva's husband fished me out of the water. I was taken to the hospital. My head injury was very serious. I remember lying in the bed with Richard on one side and Eva on the other. He looked worried and I didn't understand why. Eva went to get a cup of coffee and I felt myself rising up out of my body. I knew then I was dying and that Richard had thought that I would. I didn't want to go before Eva got back, and tried to keep holding on to Richard's hand, but eventually I had to give up. This was in about 1962.
Just to let you know she's probably not reading your question.