POMORSKA STREET. SARA APPLEBAUM

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       Actually I did it for you, but they don’t need to know that. The shares are in your name. If people get nosy, tell them you decided to cash the shares in and have some fun, travel a little.

      

       Your sister got the big wedding and the honeymoon travel. I helped finance that, not that it’s anyone’s business. She has that lawyer husband to provide for her too.

      

       Why shouldn’t you get something from me too, just because you’re not married? Anyway, it’s not their business.

      

       Get your passport in order. You’ll have to go through the packet of papers in the box and to contact Zbigniew Walenski in Warsaw.

      

       He’s a genealogist and investigator. His contact information is in the box and he’ll fill you in on what I’ve been up to.

      

       Grandma

      The last item I look at is a picture. It’s of a little girl with a big white ribbon in her hair. She’s maybe four or five years old and standing with a young soldier in uniform. On the back of the picture is written a date, May 28, 1946 and there’s a name, Phillipe. My first thought is that the little girl looks a lot like me at that age, except for the hair.

      I wonder if grandma Sal had a child before my mother, but the numbers don’t add up. The date on the back of the picture is 1946, and the child in it looks around four or five years old. Grandma was born in 1930.

      If the little girl in the picture were hers, grandma would have given birth when she was around eleven! That’s highly unlikely. That’s assuming the birth date that she claims is accurate, of course.

      “Grandma” I ponder, “why is this picture so important to you? Is it the man, Phillipe? Was he an old lover, perhaps?”

      I place the envelope back in my purse, finish my business and rejoin the family. My mother and Lucille are talking to the doctor who reports on grandma’s tests.

      “She will be monitored and a decision will be made about her ability to withstand bypass surgery at her age and in her condition. Most probably they will use a stent to deal with the blockage instead of bypass surgery.

      The cardiac team will be reviewing the film of the angiogram at the end of the day and decide how to proceed. Meanwhile she’s been sedated and will probably sleep through the night.”

      He recommends that we all go home and return in the morning.

      We stand around figuring out what to do next. The family picnic is already underway at Roxbury Park, which is in Beverly Hills. None of us are inclined to go…not in the mood. Nobody has to twist my arm to pass on the picnic. Mother will send our apologies and explain.

      We go down to the hospital cafeteria, as none of us is quite ready to just leave. A bite of food would be good about now, even hospital food!

      I break away and head home at the first respectable moment. My head is full of questions and anxiety. This I didn’t expect today.

      Generally, I’m not one that does things on a whim. I weigh and measure and plan. Even so, I feel drawn to the thought of tossing it all and going off on this…whatever it is…this adventure.

      It’s just like Grandma Sal to drag me into it. Nevertheless, part of me is starting to look forward to it. A bit of change and excitement might be just the thing!

      After a sleepless night I call in to the office and tell them I need a few days off . I explain that my grandmother is gravely ill and that I need to take care of some things.

      ****

      When I get to the hospital the next morning, the doctors have already taken her in for the placement of the stent. It will be a while. I tell Lucille that I have to take care of several things and will be back by noon.

      The bank is nearby, so I decide to take a look. The person in charge of the Safety Deposit Section is a Miss Adler. She accepts the signature card after checking my picture I.D. then goes to the copying machine and makes a copy of my driver’s license.

      It seems odd, but then I’ve never had a safety deposit box, so maybe it’s routine. She staples the copy to the card, places it in the in-box on her desk, then seems to think better of it and puts it in the desk drawer instead.

      I’m glad she didn’t just leave it for anyone to see. In these times, identity theft is a definite concern. I notice a book lying on her desk. I can’t make out the title from where I’m standing, but notice a prominent swastika on it and wonder what she’s reading.

      She locks her desk and then escorts me into the vault where she uses her key and mine to open and withdraw the box. It’s one of the over-sized boxes. We walk over to a cubicle with a desk, where I can have privacy. She shows me the intercom so I can call her to return for me when I am done.

      Inside the safe deposit box are several large manila envelopes and a cardboard box. I open the box carefully. The first thing I see is a bundle of stock certificates, Apple shares, 500 of them, in my name. I see that they were purchased quite a few years ago, about the time of my sister’s wedding. I do a quick mental calculation and am amazed at what they are now worth. At $353 a share, it adds up to $176,500! I happen to know the price per share, seen it quoted a lot as it’s gone up and up.

      Under the bundle of stocks there is cash, a lot of cash. A note on top of the money says, “Clara, this is for the investigation and the rest is for you. Enjoy!” I take a small stack and toy with it. I count out 20 fifty-dollar bills and slip the $1,000 into my bag. I lay the rest of the cash aside and look through the manila envelopes.

      There appear to be a lot of genealogical charts there and letters, to and from Poland, regarding research and investigations. There are also receipts for payment of a few hundred dollars here and a few hundred there, as well as a recent one for $2,000.

      The latest mail from Mr. Walenski is dated only six weeks ago and suggests it’s time that my grandmother come in person. There appears to have been a breakthrough and some decisions will need to be made.

      He suggests a date, less than two weeks away, when he can set aside some time for her and a hotel where she could stay while in Warsaw. He has requested a hold on a room at the Royal Meridien Bristol in Old Town Warsaw. I notice that it needs to be confirmed within a few days.

      He proposes that they travel to a couple of towns to meet with the archivists of the local historical societies. One town is Lublin and the other town is Belz.

      I’m startled by the name of the city. Besides Warsaw and Krakow, it’s probably the only other Polish town I know of. I don’t know much about it, just that song, the lullaby, by the Barry sisters - the record that my grandmother cried over the day we were at Tower Records.

      A look at my watch reminds me that I should head back to the hospital. I put the stocks and balance of the money back into the safety deposit box. I glance at the genealogy charts and

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