My Life and Times · Chapter 4 of 10

Bērzaine high school

In the fall, we were to attend Cēsis’ Bērzaine high school. That was a 3-story brick building with several wings, which prior to WWI was attended the kids of the local baron and German patrician classes. Now that we were “lords in our own land” the school was filled with the sounds of the Latvian language and the students were kids of local farmers and those of the former “second class” people of the town (i.e., Latvians). The Germans now sent their kids to private schools in Rīga. The school was about 2 km outside of town. We walked to school regardless of rain, snow, heat or cold. The road passed by Vinterkalns where we had lived before. When the weather was too cold for school, the bell at the Cēsis church would peal. I remember one Saturday morning (school went till 12 on Saturdays) when the church bell pealed and I was so happy to turn over and go back to sleep. That day, we were supposed to have a test in geometry which was not my strong suit. Its strange how such small events remain in one’s memory until old age.

So in the fall of 1925, we had assembled at Bērzaine high school. We were supposed to pair up with another student as deskmates (each desk was designed to seat two students). A girl that I did not know came up to me and said that she would like to share the desk with me. Since I had no one else in mind at the time, I agreed to become seatmates with her. Later it turned out that this choice was disadvantageous to me, because the girls usually walked home as a pair with their seatmates (the sidewalks were too narrow to allow a larger group). My seatmate lived in the opposite direction, and I did not want to walk alone so I had to pass notes during the last class to see if anyone would walk home with me. This went on for the whole winter during the first year. In the second year, I first ascertained if my prospective seatmate lived in Cēsis. This way, I spent the last 3 years sitting with Anna Krauklis. In later years after the war, she emigrated to Australia (just like we did to America). We maintained correspondence during all our years in the USA. She died of heart disease a few years ago. She had two sons – one was an artist, the other profession-less and had totally disappeared when she died. She wrote me a letter in bad Latvian while we were in the Decatur farm, full of sorrow for her son.

In high school, there was a lot of concentration on the Latvian language. We had 4 hours per week of grammar, 3 hours of literature. We analyzed Latvian writers. Janis Rainis (real name Jānis Pliekšāns) was an author and also a philosopher. Papa (Arvīds) still gets irritated remembering a Latvian language teacher spending the entire winter semester on the works of Rainis. One of these works was “Joseph and His Brothers.” Also held in esteem was Rūdolfs Blaumanis, who in his plays and stories very perceptively portrayed various aspects of human nature. To this day, his plays are still being presented by Latvian theater groups. There was also Aspāzija (married to Rainis), Anna Brigadere, Jānis Poruks and many others. In mathematics, we had algebra and trigonometry and in history, both world and Latvian. German was an obligatory foreign language and one could choose either French or English. I chose French because it seemed to be an old language of culture. Eventually in school I was able to speak pretty fluently in French with Anna Krauklis. We were especially fond of demonstrating this ability when in the company of boys. Now I have totally forgotten the language. A language must be spoken and kept alive otherwise it evaporates. Unfortunately, my French language choice ultimately turned out to be disadvantageous because when we migrated to America I did not know a word of English. But in 1925, such a need was totally inconceivable. America seemed as far away as the moon and just as unimaginable as a place we would eventually live. Our day of school started with a morning prayer. All students went to the assembly hall in pairs, girls from the third floor and boys from the first and second floors. This hall was also used for parent-teacher assemblies, school dances, Christmas events, etc. On the first level were the teachers’ rooms.

Several times a week the prayer was led by the Cēsis minister Pēteris Apkalns. He had been a soldier in the war of independence and had good speaking ability with a powerful voice. He was also a man with other appetites. He used to stand in the hallways shove his hand into the “back portion” of girls and pinch them as they went by. This behavior usually only elicited giggles and jokes. He was also known to write notes to girls inviting them to his house (when his wife was not home) – another occasion for merry jokes and conversation. In those days, the concept of “sexual harassment” was unknown and also seemed unnecessary. Apkalns had large brown eyes and a mighty voice that shook the walls of the church when hymns were sung. He was especially esteemed by the older ladies of the church.

While in high school, I had a strange spiritual experience. I write about this because I am not the only person who experienced something similar, and have actually met such a person. The circumstances were as follows: It was our lunch recess of 15 minutes, during which students could eat their sandwiches. We were in a large room with a large column in the middle, around which girls walked while conversing in low voices. In the room was a monotonous, quiet humming sound. At the door stood a “classy lady,” a Frenchwoman by birth, who was our French instructor and was supervising the recess. One time, she surprised all the girls by telling them that she wished she could change her teacher’s profession if only she was gifted – to one of dressmaking and fashion design. What she had in mind was something like the “fashion queens” of today. She asserted that such people made lots of money and had high social status. We were accustomed to the poverty-stricken seamstresses in Cēsis, so this was something new and surprising. While all the girls listened I found myself momentarily alone. I became aware of the low humming sound continually in the room, and started to hypnotize myself as “I,I,I and to imagine myself as “I”. All of a sudden, it seemed to me that there was walking beside me my “I.” I began to be afraid that I would not be able to get this other “I” back again. The teacher began calling me “Elvīra, what’s wrong, don’t you feel well?” I shook my head and slowly began to feel normal again. So, I don’t think it is any wonder that dying people see their “other” floating away toward the ceiling. Not long ago, I talked with a young woman who had been in a serious car accident. She also saw herself standing by the hospital bed. At that time, she was semi-conscious and later recovered, but she remembers and swears that it was true.

We had to wear a uniform in the high school –a brown skirt and a brown blouse with a white collar and white cuffs. We had to take care that the collar was clean. So, we all looked similar except that some showed higher quality of cloth and better sewing expertise. That could be easily seen. No jewelry except wrist watches was allowed. Dark socks were required. At the graduation ceremony, where diplomas were handed out, I wore light beige socks to show my independence. When it was my turn to go up and receive my diploma, I was so embarrassed that I wanted to crawl into a hole.

During our high school time, we spent summers just like we had in grade school, that is, going swimming in the Gauja. However, there were times when I had to wait on customers when Māte went to the market to buy stock for the grocery store. Farmers brought their goods to the market, including eggs, butter, cream, milk, poultry, such as chickens, geese, ducks, sometimes also meat cuts. Those were usually sold in special stores. The owners would go out into the country, buy the animals and take them to special meat packing houses (which had inspectors and hygiene regulations) for butchering and preparation for sale.

Māte herself baked three kinds of bread for sale: roughly-ground rye bread (rupmaize), sweet and sour bread (saldskābmaize) and white bread (baltmaize). The bakery was next to the grocery shop. There was a corridor in between, which Līga photographed during one of her recent visits to Latvia. At the door is standing some woman. In the room was a large bread oven. Māte mixed the dough, placed it on the cooking sheet, which she shoved into the oven. The fire was so hot in the oven that the bricks were glowing red-hot. Occasionally, the hygiene inspector, a local doctor, would show up. Māte did not make a big deal out of hygiene and since the room was so hot, she wore a very loose blouse. Wherever the inspector went, Māte went ahead and stood in front of him, blocking his way. Finally, he waved his hand and left. Later she laughed with her friends about these inspector visits.