I am not sure which is more frustrating – old photographs which are not identified at all, or written on in any way, or old photographs which are not identified but have cryptic captions written on them. Especially when those captions are written in almost undecipherable handwriting! Even more especially
Today I remembered yet another box full of documents and papers which I had put away for sorting. Most of it is loose pieces of paper on which my grandmother, Olga Woronoff, had written notes and stories. Some of them are in English, a fair bit in Russian. The vast
As I have mentioned before, my father learnt Latvian, English, German and French at high school and also knew a smattering of Russian. As a Baltic-German who did his schooling in Latvia, it is not a great leap to presume he spoke German at home and Latvian within the wider
“In the dreadful condition the world finds itself in today, we in America are fortunate enough to be able to lead a normal life, to bring up our children in the principles and traditions handed down to us through many generations, and to watch them enjoy all the many advantages
December 1944 was the last time my father would see his father, and it was also approximately four months before my father would be captured by the Americans. It is difficult to say whether he spent Christmas with his father, his diary notes just mention that from 20 – 26
During and after World War II, both of my father’s sisters were nurses. My Aunt Sigrid, the eldest, six years older than my father, began training as a nurse at the age of 18, in 1931, – the minimum age at the time. At the time my father’s family were