LOST AND FOUND, A Family Memoir. SARA APPLEBAUM

was shown an attribute block pattern. They’re like little flat wooden pieces in different geometric shapes and colors in a large pattern. They dumped it over and required me to recreate the pattern.

      It was strange to me, and not at all the kind of test I had expected. I had never had or played with a puzzle. Luckily I was a pretty quick study. It turned out it was a non-verbal I.Q. test…and I guess I passed. They placed me in fifth grade to finish out the year.

      Tingley Elementary School, Louisville, Kentucky. I’m in the 1st standing row, the girl with the dress on

      I could easily read English words…pronounced like French of course…and I had no idea what they meant. I tried to follow all that went on in class, the pledge of allegiance and the Christian Bible reading every morning. After just a few weeks, school came to an end and it was summer.

      My parents were very anxious that I learn English; therefore they decided to send me to camp. It was a Jewish Camp sponsored by the YMHA, Young Men’s Hebrew Association, and on the border with Tennessee. I was sent there for a six-week session.

      There wasn’t a soul there who spoke French or even Yiddish. If I wasn’t going to be totally isolated, I had to learn English…and fast! I did! Upon returning to Louisville, I had the rudiments pretty well down. Within about six months, I was getting straight A’s. There is nothing like desperation to motivate you. Camp was the first time I remember being away from my family.

      At camp I learned a few more American songs. The second one was “Blue Moon”. There was a camp counselor who taught us to sing some songs in four-part harmony. I remember particularly “Down by The Old Mill Stream

      After the initial shock of the very alien environment of this camp, I grew to love it. I’d describe it as “charming primitive”. The cabins were wooden, with clunky wooden shutters in case of rain or storms. Light was provided to each camper by a flashlight. The only buildings that had electricity, as I recall, were the Administration building, the cafeteria and the latrine! I remember it was inhabited by “daddy long legs” and smelled perpetually of a cleaning solution with a lot of ammonia!

      We drank a lot of Kool Aid, which we referred to as “bug Juice”. Making friends seemed easy, but there were a couple of unpleasant experiences. One was walking down a muddy path after some rain and slipping onto my behind…right beside a snake. My screams could have awakened the dead.

      It turned out that this particular snake was harmless, but the area had two types of highly poisonous snakes, Copperheads and Water Moccasins. I was to have several encounters with them over the three years I spent at the camp…but luckily they minded their own business and I minded mine.

      The second unpleasant experience was a trick played on me by several girls. They showed me a tree growing along a path where we were hiking and told me the green fruit was a kind of apple, and urged me to try one. In actuality they were persimmons, unripe ones. Have you ever tried a green persimmon? It tastes like alum…a very strong astringent. It felt like my mouth would never un-pucker!

      I went back to that camp every summer for three years, until we moved to Los Angeles in 1955.

      At YMHA camp, I’m on the right

      When we first got to Louisville, Kentucky, dad got work in a metal shop owned by a German man with whom he could communicate. He was a skilled craftsman and was paid the grand salary of one dollar an hour.

      Within a year, dad’s English was good enough to get a union job and things were better. Then, the union went on strike… a long strike. We didn’t have the means to hold out, so dad thought about what he could do. He hears that there might be work in California. He found a job there and sent for us. He rented a small house in Boyle Heights, close to his work.

      Boyle Heights had once been a mostly Jewish neighborhood, but that was a long time before we moved there. In the fall of 1955, when we arrived, it was a mix of people of every kind and color and ethnicity, but mostly Mexican.

      Our little bungalow had a large front yard with an immense avocado tree. I had never before seen an avocado, neither had mom.

      Even so, she developed a recipe to use those avocados. It had chopped hard boiled eggs, mashed avocado, a little salt, pepper and fresh chives…a kind of avocado egg salad without mayo. That was long before we had heard of guacamole. I still make avocado that way…except I substitute egg beaters for the hard boiled eggs…have to watch the cholesterol now!

      Dad was the rock on which our family stood. His courage, steadfastness and good judgement saved us many times and the family was able to go on, adjustment after adjustment, move after move. We lost him way too young at 73.

      Dad’s union card

      Here, dad is in his sixties, living in America. The tattoo, 2 crossed flags, is from a boxing club he belonged to as a young man

      It was in Los Angeles that I grew up. First I went to school at Hollenbeck Jr. High School in Boyle Heights. Then I was at Roosevelt High School for a very brief time. I transferred to Los Angeles High School when we bought one of those beautiful old Spanish duplexes on Tremaine Street in West L.A.

      I met Harvey the summer between High School and College when I had a temporary job at Fox West Coast Theaters and he worked at Twentieth Century Fox. We talked on the phone now and then when I booked “kiddie shows”. Harvey wondered who was this girl who kept booking “Prince Valiant”.

      We finally met one day when we went to lunch at the local drugstore. It was love at first sight, all around. Harvey proposed on our second “official date”…and now it’s 51 years later!

      I started college at 17 and loved my years at UCLA. Every bit of it was wondrous to me…including Harvey!

      This is Harvey at 24, when I met him

      We married just days before I turned 18, during Winter Break of my first year at UCLA. I remember I had to do some studying on my honeymoon in Big Bear, California.

      Bride and groom under the Chuppah (traditional wedding canopy)

      That’s me, the bride, December 19, 1959

      I returned to UCLA a married woman for my second semester. The result was that my scholarship was pulled, in spite of a 3.85 grade point average…because they said I now had a husband to support me!

      My original professional goal had been the Foreign Service…which was none too welcoming to women in those days. I went to a recruitment meeting and was told to apply for a secretarial job in one of our embassies if I liked that life.

      Only when I found out that I’d have to wait ten years to apply to the Foreign Service because I was a naturalized citizen…was I finally discouraged from a career as a diplomat.

      At eighteen, waiting a decade is like waiting a lifetime.

       My son, Steve, was born