Saturday, March 31, 2018


Children Must Not Know or Remember
By © Anton Vendamencsh, 2017

Chapter 13/ In The Wake Of Overt Violence 6

Who but an idiot would claim that war is interesting and comes as a blessing?

But what if the idiot’s claim is not without foundation? What if only terror, death, and chaos are the only way that a civilization of conceit can extricate itself from a world of its creation? Of course, I have in mind a ‘civilization’ of the city that is no longer able to distinguish the difference between the realities of Nature and the artifice of the City. What if all the UFO sightings and meetings with Extra Terrestials are hallucinations of a mind caught up in a city? What if the city inhabitants have for too long carried their heads inside a box without holes in it for either sight or breathing? Is this not what the ‘intelligence’ of American college students illustrates?

Political anthropologist Pierre Clastres (see blog EC652) appears to be in support of such a claim on behalf of pain of war. Arguing that among so-called ‘primitives’ and people who lived before the written word, the ‘law’ of social behavior is inscribed by initiation rites for youth, Clastres puts in a good word for ‘tough love’. Initiation rites, sure to include pain to enhance memory, are—so argues Clastres—for the purpose of inscribing social law not only on the body of the individual, but also the body social. Writes Clastres (”Of Torture in Primitive Societies”, p 186): ”The law they come to know in pain is the law of primitive society, which says to everyone: You are worth no more than anyone else; you are worth no less than anyone else. The law, inscribed on bodies, expresses primitive society’s refusal to run the risk of division, the risk of power separate from society itself, a power that would escape its control. Primitive law, cruelly taught, is a prohibition of inequality that each person will remember....” (Italics by Clastres.)

My experience of the years 1939-1942 (when I was 6 to 9 years old) was not set up by a medicine man of the Brazilian Indians, but by extreme events emerging out of our own mentally sick civilization. The lesson the horrific events taught me (without necessarily my being conscious of it at the time) was: ”You are worth no more than anyone else; you are worth no less than anyone else.” The first time that I became conscious of the effect of the law was in 1958 at the age of 25, when my English profesor at Boston University, and I ran into each other at Kenmore Square in Boston. Said the profesor: ”You are a bright young man. Why are you dropping out? Why not finish college?” I remember my answer as clear as if I were to make it today: ”If I graduate, I will be locked into a career. I believe that I can educate myself by myself.” In effect, I was rejecting the imprint a sick society wished to make on me.

I was so convinced because war had already dropped me out of my family*; out of Latvijan society (a once upon a time communityreduced to insignificant numbers by its own government and thrown to ministerial dogs ministring to secularism); out of European society (to Americans postWW2 Europe meant flogging Hitler, praising Churchill, and supporting Zionist Israel); and at that point (in the middle of Kenmore Square, still only 25 years old) not fully understanding the reasons, but finding America of rather puffy substance, ready to leave that society. Still, circumstances* compelled me to remain in it. When some thirty years later (1990) my wife decided to divorce me, I discovered myself to be like a balloon without a string in a rootless America.**

*We arrived in America exausted, both, of inner spiritual and outer material resources. As for the latter, Emilia’s stepson, mentioned above, had managed to abscond with everyone’s inheritance, was deep-sea diving with Jacques Cousteau, and having under water caves named after himself.

**Because mother could not support her three children on her own, I was placed by our good intentioned sponsors as a kind of junior assistant in an orphanage. Though it was not so intended, it made me feel very much like an orphan, even stubornly so. Not surprisingly, my favorīte book in 1958 was Colin Wilson’s ”The Outsider”.

In any case, by 1959, ten years after arriving in America, it was clear to me that America was not the answer for my tomorrow.*

*Nevertheless, the decision to drop out of America [it was not only a matter of rejecting its educational institutions and Elvis Presley (click 10:30) oriented culture], exacted a toll. I was pursued thereafter by a recurring nightmare. The dream found me looking for a job and walking through long corridors to the unemployment office. At first, I was merely annoyed by the dream, then later realized that what it was telling me was that I was not of the world where ‘a job’ is the norm. I then realized that there is a world, where ‘a job’ is not the norm. Such a world existed in the world where I had begun my working day life as a cowherd at the age of nine. My aunt was not exploiting child labor or me, but was raising me into a world that had always been such.

After leaving (1958) Boston University (yes, I did take a course presented by Professor Howard Zinn), I went to work as an Emergency Ward clerk at the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary, then took a job as an order clerk at Hayden Stone brokerage firm, and then as a typesetter who wrote a weekly column at the Boston Ledger, a weekly Boston area newspaper. Because none of my jobs were demanding, I had time to give myself to reading, making acquaintance with the Boston area art world, and trying my hand at sculpture (though personally I remain fascinated with objects out of sight—a zig-zag object placed in a box or a log under water are good eamples—my favorīte sculptors are early Brancusi and Henry Moore in gypsum at the Ontario Museum, Toronto). In my mind I was living an waiting  life. This continued until my wife and I decided to move to the Washington, DC area.

It was then that I realized that in the context of a society born of Enlightenment, esconced on the shores of Chesapeake Bay pursuing world conquest on behalf of materialism, I had come to a dead end. I had little interest in Washington other than its Smithonian museums. Moreover, I was no longer young, had no job security, could not look forward to a pension that would take me other than to a cardboard box in the desert, and, in the end (today), be left to subsist in a God forsaken corner of the Latvijan countryside, where I justify my dharma as an occasional helpmate to those in need of medication, groceries, and like minutiae.

As the decade of the 1980s drew to a close in America, Providence came to my aid—again. Though atheists may call it a delusion, for those who have no career but are left to trust fate, it seemed like an event brough about by someone looking through the window from the outside in. The window and curtains had remained open just enough to let through a breeze fanned by events far removed from immediate ken.

The democratic cum demonic fascist State of the United States* had long ceased to be a self-sustaining domestic economy and has become an economy that makes its living through an externally expanding economy. The expansion goes by various names, such as ‘manifest destiny’, ‘exporting democracy’, ‘free trade’, ‘globalism’, and not least ‘exceptionalism’. A combination of plentiful resources (for a limited time) and Soviet failures (the last not least because of a failure to differentiate between countryside and cityside), had succeeded in undermining the Soviet Union, the government of which—in order to avoid another civil war, bloodshed, and uncertain chances of eventual recovery—disintegrated. The country of my origin, Latvija, was then proclaimed by its fascist sponsors to be emerging as a sovereign country again.

*The definitiion of ’Fascist State’ is incomplete in that it limits itself to a small State, such as Germany of Hitler’s time and definēs a nation as an aggressive entity toward its neighbors. However, a fascist State cannot be limited by size because in all cases it operates in the same manner: it fails to live within the means available on its own territory, wherefore it either seizes or lives off other territories. Nevertheless, America’s expansionist policies closely approximate Hitler’s drang nach Osten for more ‘Lebensraum’/ living space, which is to say, America has made the concept of ‘free market’ and ‘free trade’ synonyms of Lebensraum. The casualties among the civilizan populations of Libya, Iraq, Syria are no lesser atrocieties than those committed by the Germans against the East Europen and Russian civil populations during the Hitler era. Needless to say, this definition of ‘fascism’ includes the former Soviet Union, present day Russia and China, which is why I conceive the present state of the world as an undeclared federation of fratricidal fascist states.

In December of 1991, at the age of 58, still confused about the meaning of the word ‘fascist’, I returned to Riga and visited the Ergli countryside (1) (2), where in late summer of 1944 some 60,000 men died fighting over a neighborhood where I had once herded sheep and cows. Everyone was euphoric over the fall of the Soviet Empire. But no one asked the critical question: Why did the Soviet system fail? Did not the Latvians themselves support it—at its beginnings? The question was not allowed, because the answer had been formulated in the fascist West many years ago. It was only after several years of observing the presumed recovery that I realized that the ‘recovery’ was not happening, because former Soviet officials—having been encouraged by the West to become turn-coats—had seized the reigns of control of the nation (community) and were transferring the common good into private hands of former Soviet officials. One way the latter is accomplished is by saddling the population with a victim mentality: just like Israelis (backed by the US.) blame the Palestinians for their voes, so the Latvijan government (backed by NATO) has turned the Russians into the Palestinians of the victimized Latvijans. The victim mentality is most popular among the middle class.

In 1995, at the age of 62, I retired, and applied for my Social Securiy pension. When it was granted, I relocated myself to Latvija. From the perspective of political science, it was one of the better decision I ever made: it enabled me to confirm (in my own mind) the difference between the way human beings think when residents of the countryside and when residents of the city. While the first could not live without God, the second could not believe in God, wherefore it repeatedly met with itself at a Dead End, where it prepares for Armageddons of a great many varieties.


Saturday, March 24, 2018

Children Must Not Know or Remember
By © Anton Vendamencsh, 2017

Chapter 12/ In The Wake Of Overt Violence 5

The existential threat to my family becomes real with the 1939 Mutual Assistance Treaty between Latvija and the Soviet Union. The Treaty, forced on Latvia by the Soviet Union*, was immediately followed by occupation. The Latvian government showed no opposition. By 1940 we are disposessed of our home. By 1941, eight members of my extended family are arrested and deported to the gulags, five of them (my father, Emilia, my maternal grandfather, an uncle, and cousin) die by 1942. While some of the deaths are due to Soviet policies, a contributing factor is the War, which forces the Soviet government into a survival mode that results in measures that costs many lives.**

*This is what our government ordered or fake ‘history’ tells us. But one ought seriously doubt that it reflects what really is at work here. More than likely, the Bolsheviks are influenced by the self-assertive Moravian Church.which is  forced to abandon its Populist Christian theology in favor of Elitist and Catholic theology.The Moravians metamorphosed into Bolsheviks and returned under the leadership of Peter Shtuchka in 1919. Again they were driven off by the combined forces of volunteer German barons and right wing Latvians. The defeat pf the Latvian Populists or Peasant Communists follows the fate of the Finnish Communists. What throws off conventional historians is the fact that the radical metamorphosis of the Moravians causes the aborted Moravian movement to reemerge as Atheist Bolsheviks, which is why they have no recollecton of their origins—in spite of the fact that being Atheist remains a form of religios.

**So, yes, absent WW2 many would likely have survived.

But getting killed may have been the easy part. It takes many decades before the survivors, the victims, and the heirs and remnants of the Herrnhuter tradition receive the coup d’grace. In so far as Herrnhuters held to the Biblical belief that the eldest son of a family is the heir of the male lineage, it falls on me to be the one who must gather up the  blood of my forebears. I also must bear the cowardice of the Christian image bearers*, who forget that wealth corrupts. These blogs are part of the process of revealing what this ‘Christian history’ hides.

*A short while ago, on February 24, 2018, I attend an event at the Valmiera (LV) public library, ostensibly organized by a local Herrnhuter Church. I am interested, because the event purports to present a history of the Herrnhuter movement in the area. A number of high level academics have promised to attend. Unfortunately, upon arrival, I disciver that three of the presenters are absent due to pulmonary infections. The only historian present is a Lutheran minister who has presumed to minister history to those present. Typically the lecture consists of blah blah blah facts to about a hundred gathered sheep. The attendies are given no opportunity to ask questions, even though none—apparently cowed into silence by the reputations of the presenters—raise hands. Typically, the history profesor cum minister fails to connect any of the facts to the religious war waged against the Herrnhuters by the Lutheran Church (for example, why is the Lutheran Church of Valmiera still standing, while all traces of the Herrnhuters have been eradicated? Why did the Latvian Lutheran Church sell—following the collapse of the Soviet Union--the last Herrnhuter property in Riga? To mince no words and not to accept any of the excuses: surely to eradicaate all traces of them.). When during a break, I suggest to the profesor that Herrnhuter theology is unlikely the same as that of the Catholic theology (which is followed also by the Lutherans), he acknowledges this, but abruptly removes himself from my presence. This proves to me that the absolutist arm of Missouri Fundamntalist Synod has sufficient secular influence to silence dissent as far as Valmiera, Latvija. The message that I receive is as clear as it was in the 18th century: no  challenges are desired, leave the box that decorates the head of the establishment undisturbed.

My family is provided shelter by a heretofore overlooked branch of the family—that of my paternal grandmother, specifically her youngest sister, aunt Emma. Aunt Emma, who up to that time I had never met before, owns a farm that is located at the very center of the Moravian crescent that once stretched across the map as a rising moon from Valmiera east to Smiltene, then south to Vecpiebalga, Ērgļi, Madliena, then westward to Ogre. I am not sure how my father, who up to then had been compromising himself in favor of his nemesis Emilia by denying his mother, rediscovered his past. I suspect it was his youngest sister, aunt Martha (daughter-in-law of the first president of Latvija), who had kept her family ties intact by visiting with them frequently. Most likely, it is she who makes the arrangements for her brother, wife and children.

In any case, there I was, a few days before my eigths birthday, in the garden of a farm in an area of Latvija that I had never visited before. It was a sunny  day. A white enameled tin pan filled with water was set on a wooden block for us to wash off the dust accumulated during the three hour 120 kilometers drive. In those days driving took a long time as the roads in Latvija were made for horse drawn wagons, not cars.

A long wooden table in the garden was set for lunch. Birch juice (the traditional Latvijan summer drink that replaces lemonade), home made bread, bacon flavored cottage cheese, butter, boiled eggs, ham, and a jar of honey awaited us at our new home. After a brief repast and everyone meeting everyone all aound, we were shown what was to be our room for the next four years: upstairs on the north end of the farmhouse, second floor, gable to gable, two windows looking north, a round, massive floor to ceiling stove next to the door that would heat the room in winter, two childrens’ beds against the wall on the left, a double bed for mother and father on the right. We set our suitcases in the middle of the room, and untied the sack with our Siamese cat Yurka. Pure chaos ensued as the cat  jumped out of the sack with a howl, circled the walls until exhausted and protesting its fate with continuous fierce miouws crawled under a bed, wherefrom it continued to protest against those who in Siam had bred his jungle ancestors down to a cat. Surely, Yurka also miouwed for us.

My future was decided in the next few days. Because I was new to the farming way of life, I was to spend the summer learning the cowherder’s trade by accompanying Gunars, aunt Emma’s stepson, who until then had been the herder. Gunars was five years older than I, which was old enough to start taking on more adult responsibilities.

Because the plan had been to raise me as a wealthy man’s son in the city, the idea had been to school me at home with the help of nannies and tutors. For this reason, I had not attended public school, and was not anxious to be sent to one now. It made me ill to think of being left on my own among strangers. It was then decided to keep me home yet another winter. Because home tutoring had been done with the aim to prepare me for Oxford (I am not sure whose idea this was, but it went with the pretentions), my handwriting skills were not up to the standarts of Latvian elementary school. Thus, I spent the fall months sitting in the small library* of the farm drawing endless series of letters (a, b, c...) in a notebook printed for that purpose. It was the first time, I truly felt the presence of my father, who sat next to me and made sure that I did not slack off. Perhaps this was the first time that we really got to know each other a little.

*Due to the Latvian Herrnhuter effort to educate themselves and other Latvian peasants, Latvijan farm houses, built from the 18th century on, included a small room that served, at first, as a room for prayer and reading the Bible, but in later years the room became a small library. As a consequence of such farm libraries, the Latvian people became, at one point, among the most literate people in Europe. My aunt Emma’s small library contained along with the Bible many classics (Cervantes, Dante, Dostoyevski, Goethe, Homer, Turgenev, Jules Verne, Baumanis, Grīns, Pumpurs, Rainis, Skalbe, etc.), all which books I read without any sense of discrimisnation by the age of ten while herding cows and sheep. Indeed, some of the literature, I did not get to reread until twenty or so years later,while some I refresh through the internet library now at my fingertips.

Father stayed with us until the end of the year (1940). I remember him lifting bales of hay, which when placed on small birch trees that had been laid on the ground made a kind of sled, which when tied to ropes, I, sitting on horse back, then drew across the field and up a ramp to the attick above the cow barn. In winter, all men went to the forest, where we cut spruce trees, the logs of which the horse (Max) then pulled by slay home. When the logs were cut into blocks, these were split into fire wood, some fagots of which I split into thin strips, which—given there was no electricity and little petrol—were used at night as torches to light one’s way around the house or read books.

For the next half a year life seemed normal. Then in January of 1941, in order to participate in the upcoming elections, father had to return to Riga. A newly issued Soviet law demanded that the head of every family cast a vote. This was a way for the new government to claim it had become occupier as a result of a democratic vote.*

*The ‘democratic vote’ exacted by the Soviet government served the same purpose as ‘christening’ had once served the Globalist-Catholic eclesia. The aim of the Globalists, no less than the Soviets, was to distance the people from democracy as it was practiced in an environment of nature. Indeed, Nature was at that time the environment for the majority of the Latvian people. The Soviets wished to replaced Nature by an idealized democracy defined by a (Soviet or Catholic-Capitalist) Central Committee in the city. To paraphrase (rather extensively) the French political anthropologist Pierre Clastres (”Society Against the State”, Zone Books, 1987; p 188): Although the origin of the People is to be sought in a society without written laws, they were forced by (written) law to submit to a series of distant,separate, and despotic orders—the last two of which were a) a ‘democratic’ Soviet Union and b) an ideologically and militarily berzerk United States of America and European Union.

Once in Riga, father was arested, interrogated, and accused of being unfriendly to the Soviet Union. He must have had some inklings of what awaited him. One of the letters he sent mother addressed her as Solvega, the ever patient woman who waited for the return of her ever wandering Peer Gynt . Ever curious and ready to stick my nose in matters held secret and forbidden, I read the letter. Father pleaded that mother take care of the children and forgive him his meanderings. He also wrote that he would write a book when he returned.

In June of 1941, just a few days before the Germans attacked the Soviet Union, the Soviets put father and many thousands of others of the Latvijan intellegentsia and elite aboard cattle cars and transported them out of Latvija. When we were notified of this by remaining relatives in Riga, I took the news as a death sentence not only for father, but also myself. It was the first and last time that I remember myself and mother embracing each other with emotion. Because mother had early on surrendered me to the care of nannies, as privileged wealthy parents were wont to do, it was a happening that never happened again. What passed between us, at that moment, was the result of momentary melt-down of barriers raised by ‘upbringing’. Because that upbringing continued thereafter by the estrangement that such upbringing result in, I expressed my sense of abandonment by retreating into hysterical prayers and schizophrenia*. Mother occupied herself with my young brother, the first of her brood to receive her full emotional attention.

*Autism in my case is self-diagnosed more than seventy years after the fact. The diagnosis is based on remembrances of events described in these blogs. My brother, or more likely my half-brother, who has a PhD in psychology, however, never noticed anything that he would so diagnose or describe. Aside from the fact that autism today may have increased due to vaccinations poisoned by additives, my theory is that the real increase in autism is due to an ever accelerating exit from Nature-based realism (where succor is provided by God), into a virtual and city based unnatural environment where pain is cured-released by resort to violence, either real or fantasized in derams or in movies. The consequent paranoia, while a disorder. is, nevertheless, solely the result of virtual reality attempting to usurp the reality of Nature. Though psychologists attempt to persuade us that this is a personal factor, in fact this is a cultural factor of our time. This dichotomy may appear in such dreams as the following:while I am fishing in a small stream, the dream introducēs next to the steram a highway where armored personnel carriers rumble. In my childhood, both Hitler and Stalin were asserting a city based virtual reality over nature-based reality, thereby tipping humankind into a world of violent fantasies, re: tanks, howitzers, stukas, jets, automatic rifles, atomic bombs, etc.

After discovering that my mother cared little over my sense of loss (she surely lost much herself), there occured times when my behavior toward her became wilfull and, sometimes, cruel. On occasion, I would take advantage of a conflict and deliberately drive mother to lose control of herself and into hysteria. She then fell to the floor as if struck by an epileptic fit. I would then rush to her side and offer her a glass of sugared water. I had heard that sugar calmed the nerves.

I was recently reminded of this, when a friend told me that an acquaintance of hers, who works as a prostitute and who ten years ago had given birth to a son, had called her and with some alarm told that her son had attacked her. After taking a few days to think the matter over, my response was that the only way the matter can be resolved is if the mother takes her activities a step beyond the usual and introduces her son to both sex and God. Such advice is based on my experience of unrequited mother love. Though I had become detached from mother, this does not mean that she did not matter any more. Perhaps because of it, she continues to appear in ny dreams as a sexual subject—even after her death twenty years ago.


Saturday, March 17, 2018


Children Must Not Know or Remember
By © Anton Vendamencsh, 2017

Chapter 11/ In The Wake Of Overt Violence 4

After grandfather and Emilia married (1922), the next major event in family affairs occured in 1926, when Emilia adopted her sister’s son as her own.

There are a number of reasons why Emilia did this: a) Emilia and grandfather have no issue*; b) Emilia evidently determines to break her verbal agreement with grandfather to share in their business venture 50-50; c) as Publisher of the newspaper Emilia decides to exercise the power (legal) of the written word over the verbal, and claim the newspaper as her own; d) a dramatic and irreversible ‘coming-out’ results from the plastic surgery that remakes not only Emilia’s face, but personality**. From 1926 until 1932 the pendulum appears to swing back in favor of grandfather, who in 1932 retires and installs my father as editor-in-chief. Emilia makes no overt countermove until after the death of grandfather in 1939. She then dismisses my father as editor-in-chief. However, she is forced to reinstate him, when it becomes apparent that there is no one who can do the job as well as he and keep the newspaper profitable***.

*Did they or did they not have sexual contact? While the question today may seem ridiculous, the fact that they had no children of their own, may confirm the rumor that Emilia had contracted syphilis from her first husband. Also, in those days sex had not yet become the obsession of cityfolk it has become today, but many practiced the commandments (self-discipline and self-denial) that were observed by the people of the countryside. The put down of self-gratification by globalization-preaching churches had its reasons and the seeding of the idea that if one did not practice heterosexual sex one would lose one’s mind was not altogether a rabbit out of thin air.

**The ‘business woman’ who comes out from behind the ‘nice girl’ image is often a woman abused in early life.  Dire conditions of poverty in the city often force a young woman to take to whoring as means of survival. This brings her in touch with the worst life has to offer, which harden her emotional life, sometimes to the point of insensitivity.

***Father’s success as editot-in-chief is due not only to his understanding of what the Latvijan public wants from a newspaper, but also due to his from bottom-up familiarity with the publishing process (which his father made him learn upon his return from the Ukraine) and experience as a military officer in General Denikin’s White army.

Upon his retirement, grandfather purchased an estate in Kandava, western Latvija, which property he wishes to develop as an experimental farm. His interest in agriculture is a throwback to his childhood in Taurene (see EC648), when following the death of his father, his mother is recorded to have stood in a wagon of cow manure and distributed its good to the field, right and left.

Curiously (or perhaps not), grandfather’s first wife, my grandmother, relocates to nearby town of Tukums, which is a mere 24 km or 15 mi away from her ex-husband’s estate. There were rumors that grandfather wished to remarry her, but that she refused to take him back. Why? Perhaps grandmother was all too aware of the material losses that such a move would entail.

From 1936 on there commence a series of events, all of which, in one way or another, diminished the influence of Herrnhuters (such as remained) in general and grandfather in particular. When in 1935 (his 75th birthday) and thereafter grandfather is asked why he refuses to leave the nation a legacy such as money for scholarships, a hospital, or some other institution, he makes no response. Nobody guesses that the reason is that he is not the oligarch the public has been led to believe. No one has the audacity to guess: that for reasons of their own, grandfather and Emilia, have perpetrated a myth that both are millionaires. Having committed themselves to a myth, neither can—for the scandal that would cause—back out of it.

In 1937 there occurs an event outside the family purview, nevertheless one to which the origins of the family are closely tied.

I  At the age of 38, the last of Herrnhuters who wishes to continue the Moravian Church as a church independent of the Lutheran Church, Karlis Ozolinsh, dies unexpectedly. His death is accepted without comment, even though it is sudden and unexpected, and may be murder instigated as a result of an effort to once and for all discontinue the Moravian Church in Latvija. On second thought, given what has become a tradition of  fictionalization of Latvijan history, the death of Ozolinsh helps rewrite and silence the events of Latvijan history into something like permanent fiction. The death is among the last of nails into the coffin of the founders of the Latvijan nation. The next to last nail occurs in 1948 with the official liquidation of the church in Latvija by the post war Soviet Latvijan regime. The last nail is driven with the arrival of the so-called ‘renewed’ State of Latvija after the 1991. Thereafter the Lutheran Church of Latvija, failing leadership, writes the last ignominious chapter in its efforts to liquidate competition. Arguing that it needs resources in order to continue, it sells the last of the Herrnhuter properties in Riga. It is interesting that the property is located but a stones thrown from the former offices of the Latest News (JZ). The sale finalizes the secularization of the Christian Church in Latvija, and liquidates all memories of the Christian foundations of the Nation.

Because the Soviets and the Reich have already made their deal partitioning Europe and the elites of Latvija know it, no one has time to do an in-depth investigation of the death of Ozolish. When the last Herrnhuter property in Riga is sold in post-Soviet times, Christianity itself is too short of influence, not to say dead, to evoke publicē interest

II  In 1937, aged 77, grandfather approached his son-in-law, my Godfather, a judge of the Latvijan Supreme Court, for an opinion of the consequences if he were to divorce Emilia. The reason for asking for a divorce, he tells his daughter is: ”She (Emilia) has become insufferable”*. The legal advice he receives is harsh news: a divorce is likely to result in significant material losses for himself and his heirs. As a result, grandfather decides to suffer his estranged wife and fate. A 1937 photo ( here ) of some of the family projects the happy image; front row, children, from left: unknown, myself, my cousin, my sister, unknown; adults in first row, from left, my father, Emilia, grandfather. Emilia’s mother, my aunt; second row, from left, behind my father, my godfather, the judge referred to above, Emilia’s sister, my uncle, my aunt, identity uncertain.

*It is about this time that Emilia begins to be referred to as ”Latvija’s first lady”. This is because she accompanies (and finances?) prezident  K. Ulmanis at dinners and other events. Grandfather, suffering from depression, becomes increasingly obese, and suffers from clogged arteries. In 1939 one of his legs turns gangrenous and is amputated. Grandfather does not recover, and dies in June, without seeing his alternate home in Jurmala finished. Today a You Tube advertisement tries to sell the house. The seller, an heir of Emilia, does not hesitate to rewrite history and leave grandfather out of it.

III  During Emilia’s birthday party in 1939 (September 10), which is attended by high society friends and acquaintances, there appears a gypsy fortune teller. No one appears to know whence she comes or who she is. After the gypsy lays her cards, she tells Emilia that the cards tell that she will die of starvation.

Some sources claim the fortune teller to have been a well known Latvijan fortune teller of the time (Finks). But there is no proof of this. Neither is there proof of my version of the story. However, it must not be forgotten that by 1939 most upper class Latvians knew that independence was over and hard times lay ahead. Hitler had invaded Poland nine day before Emilia’s birthday. Rumors of an imminent invasion by Russians were in the air—the Baltic Germans were leaving Latvija en masse. Emilia had reached deep into Hitler’s government hierarchy, and her brother-in-law, an Austrian actor, had even approached Himler in an attempt to gain her refuge in Germany. Her plea was rejected. Equally rejected was my father, when he approached Emilia and asked her for funds to leave Latvija, but she refused him. This story is told by one of the editors (R. Ozols) of the newspaper. Following the death of grandfather in June, his two surviving daughters—never ones to accept Emilia as part of the family—prepared to sue Emilia for getting more than 50% of the family’s wealth. Such a 50-50 split had been proposed in the Last Testament. Given the fact that their mother, my paternal grandmother, had suddenly taken ill and could soon die, it is possible that her daughters—uninvited to Emilia’s birthday party—hired a gypsy fortune teller to spoil Emilia’s birthday with an upsetting prognostication.

It is a possibility that grandmother’s illness was not accidental, but was due to murder by poison. The reasons for killing grandmother were many.

In the event that grandmother’s daughters got to sue Emilia (and with the husband of one of them a judge on the Supreme Court, why would they not?), grandmother would make a convincing court witness, as to Emilia’s role in the break up of her family and Emilia’s true social status at the beginning of the 20th century. There were rumors that Emilia had contracted syphilis from her actor husband. Syphillis was rumoted to be the reason why she could not bear children. With inter-family relations at the breaking point—Emilia may have refused father’s request of funds to leave, in an effort to persuade him to persuade his sisters to drop the law suit against her. Failing that, grandmother became Emilia’s next logical target. Not only had the Soviets occupied the country de facto already, the family was at the brink of a no holds barred violent existential crisis of its own. The first victim of the crisis was to be grandmother*, with Red Riding Hood playing the role of wolf. While there is no photographic proof of this, untold history (and there is more than enough of it) is always more real than fiction**.

*Though they were divorced, grandfather continued to support his first wife and children throughout his life with generous, but secretive, support. The secret was maintained many years in a disciplined fashion. The move of grandmother to be near her former husband is a reality. So is th fact, that I never got to know my grandmother, because my father kept his children from her in order not to jeopardize his job as editor of the newspaper. Money was delivered to grandmother by secret couriers; as one editor of The Latest News, Roland Ozols, reports in his book ”The Last of the Mohicans” (Avots, 1992).

**A Post-Soviet Latvijan writer (L. Muktupavele), did her best to concoct a biographical fantasy-channeling, which she called ”Emilija”. Modestly successful among an audience that had no idea what Latvija had been like before the Soviet occupation (or that the Soviet occupation was, in fact, but a belated takeover of Latvija by Latvijans themselves), the author’s illiteracy with regard to the past, whether macro or micro (Muktupavele failed to interview any members of the surviving family of the day), remains an illustration of the contempt for history by the post-Soviet Latvijan generation.