tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68736273770639010082024-02-06T18:03:43.490-08:00Marina Gottlieb SarlesThe Last Daughter of Prussia—a sweeping saga of love and war. "Well rendered, keenly felt, quite vivid ... an affecting tale of WWII." - Publisher's Weekly. This historical novel takes you into the rarely told story Great Trek out of East Prussia was inspired by the diaries of my grandparents. My blog gives you a behind-the-scenes look at what really happened in this beautiful vanished land.Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-3819731507875676012017-08-09T14:20:00.000-07:002017-08-10T15:56:45.147-07:00A Sweeping Saga of Love & War<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Last Daughter of Prussia</h2>
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<span style="color: blue;">"Well-rendered, keenly felt, and quite vivid.</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">Sarles adapted her novel from the real-life experience</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">of her grandparents,</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">and readers will appreciate the</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">characters' quiet heroism</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">and be intrigued by this affecting tale of WWII."</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;">—Publishers Weekly</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vVU9kryvwxs/TZ_ifHP6zWI/AAAAAAAAAbo/px5T0ZsaDZovOxdQ0WYpY8k91cbed_T1gCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Flucht.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="298" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vVU9kryvwxs/TZ_ifHP6zWI/AAAAAAAAAbo/px5T0ZsaDZovOxdQ0WYpY8k91cbed_T1gCPcBGAYYCw/s400/Flucht.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This picture was taken in the bitter winter of 1945 when thousands of refugees </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>defied Hitler's evacuation orders and fled across the only escape route open.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Many did not make it to safety in the west.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">A vivid, riveting book that captures the intense human dramas</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">of love and family, </span><span style="color: blue;">persecution and rape</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">amidst a chilling WWII winter </span><span style="color: blue;">where</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">the last hope of escape becomes a narrow lagoon</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">of rapidly melting ice...</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">One of the most moving animal stories ever written—</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">the writing is as sure-footed as the peerless race of East Prussian</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">Trakehner horses </span><span style="color: blue;">who trekked through snow and</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">falling bombs to save their owners' lives,</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">and their rare breed from extinction.</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">—Patricia Clough, Author</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: blue;"><b>The Flight Across the Ice</b></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">About the Novel:</span></b></div>
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Germany, in the winter of 1945. Hitler's Reich is crumbling. The Russian army is advancing, hell-bent on revenge for the atrocities committed by the Nazis in Stalingrad and other cities. The quiet province of East Prussia sits in the middle of it all. The Prussians have no choice now but to flee against Nazi orders—an act punishable by death—or risk being butchered, the women raped to death by invading soldiers.</div>
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This is the story of two families caught in the eye of this catastrophic hurricane, one of East Prussian nobility, the other Romani Gypsies, and the unlikely love between Manya von Falken, a beautiful, courageous heroine and Joshi Karas, a Gypsy, brilliant and passionate, who has crossed incredible barriers to study medicine until he is sent to a concentration camp.</div>
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While Manya and her family take part in the "Great Trek" west with two of their famed Trakehner horses who must lead them across a large, dangerous frozen lagoon, along with thousands of refugees, Joshi must find a way to survive and reunite with his soul mate.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt"; mso-bidi-language: EN-US;">The story is based on true events passed down to me by my grandparents who were survivors on the Great Trek out of East Prussia—a tragic,
historical moment, rarely discussed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt"; font-size: large;"><b>A Welcome to My Blog Readers:</b></span></h3>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt"; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4V040fRr2LQ/Tl5xmqPSfQI/AAAAAAAAA8c/Ehnxlm3EFecvFi1wOHPwP71jdK4A_GdKwCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/DSCF9483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="589" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4V040fRr2LQ/Tl5xmqPSfQI/AAAAAAAAA8c/Ehnxlm3EFecvFi1wOHPwP71jdK4A_GdKwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/DSCF9483.JPG" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Author Marina Gottlieb Sarles</i><br />
<i>with a portrait of her great great grandmother</i><br />
photo courtesy Christine Matthäi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">Thank you so much for visiting this blog which was created while I was writing my </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">novel—<i>The Last Daughter of Prussia.</i> The posts cover what inspired me to write the book. I share a lot of history about what actually happened in East Prussia during 1945 when the Russians were invading. I felt called to give a voice to the some three million women who were raped by the invading army and who felt they never had a right to talk about the violence because they were German.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">Further, I wanted the Roma Gypsies, so unique in their ethnicity, to be remembered as millions of them were murdered by Hitler in yet another Holocaust—a Forgotten One. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">Finally, I wanted to honor the famous Trakehner horses whose determination on the "Great Trek" was the purest expression of courage, love and selflessness. Without their help hundreds of thousands of civilians would not have escaped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">I believe our world is crying out for healing and although we must NEVER forget what happened in the Jewish Holocaust, we must also recognize that peace will not be possible until ALL </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">suffering is brought to light, and ALL the broken souls—be they human or animal—are able to tell their side of the story while being held in the heart of compassion. </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">I hold this same space in my heart for the millions of people in our world who have been forced to flee their beloved </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">homeland to escape death, torture and persecution. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">Although <i>The Last Daughter</i> was written as a novel, the story is based on actual events. Much of the information was passed down to me by my grandparents, Walter and Edith von Sanden—survivors of the "Great Trek." Other parts of the story were handed to me by ghosts I encountered hovering by my bedside at night while I slept, imploring me to bring threads </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">of their lives to the tapestry of the tale. All of it has been extensively researched and though the characters are fictional, my intention was to stay grounded in factual details.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">There are lots of photos in this blog. They are all real. Many were taken by my grandfather. Some I found on the internet and have taken the liberty of using them. Thank you to whoever took them. You'll also see photos by my talented friend and photographer, Christine Matthäi.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">There are various posts about my family lineage—East Prussian and Lenape Indian, as well as reflections on my inner landscapes as a writer. There are posts about the Roma Gypsies, the Trakehners and the amazing horse farm—The City of Horses—where they were bred. Some posts address the characters that inspired the book and the </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">publishing process. </span><span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">Others will take you to my life in The Bahamas—the islands where I was blessed to grow up as my parents immigrated there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">Take your time, dear reader, to peruse whatever calls you. My hope is that you gain insight into the vanished world of East Prussia and the heart of its people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">The book can be found on <b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Prussia-Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/dp/0983918821/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1502312846&sr=8-1&keywords=the+last+daughter+of+prussia" target="_blank">Amazon</a></b>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">Thank you. Enjoy. And please, please I would love to hear from you—feel free to write to me and let me know your thoughts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";">In peace and with blessings,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "timesnewromanpsmt";"> Marina</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Marina visiting a Trakehner in Poland<br />near what was her grandparents' estate in East Prussia.</i></td></tr>
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Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-20493831787040153182014-03-23T06:51:00.000-07:002014-03-23T06:51:51.373-07:00The Holding of Hearts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Photo courtesy Christine Matthäi)</td></tr>
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<br />
Hi Everyone,<br />
<br />
I just spent a beautiful day in the sun, watching kids play on the beach. The magnificent colors of the Bahamian waters enlivened my eyes, and as I watched the sunset, enthralled by the wild array of colors I settled into a deep sense of peace. Nature here is like an ever-changing painting, yet its gift is constant.<br />
<br />
At times like these I feel I never want to leave but The Last Daughter of Prussia is taking me out on the road again. My next speaking engagement is at the<a href="http://www.myrml.org/"> Rogers Memorial Library</a> in South Hampton, NY. I have been invited as a special guest speaker because<a href="http://www.ushmm.org/remember/days-of-remembrance"> National Holocaust Remembrance Day</a> falls in April and my book discusses another side of WW2 along with a tragic piece of German history that has remained largely untold. If any of you can attend, Id love to meet you. My talk will be on Wed. April 9 from 12:00 to 1:00 pm. (Phone # 631 283 0774 Ext 523.)<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The topic of the holocaust is a painful one for Jews but also for
non-Jews—especially those of German heritage, like me. Somewhere deep inside I
feel that a hidden, shameful mark has been stamped on my soul for being German,
for knowing that my country of origin is where such heinous crimes against
humanity were conjured up and committed. Although these atrocities happened
before I was born, I carry the fear, guilt and shame of them in my heart, my
bones, my very DNA. Even if people say, “That was another time, you weren’t
involved, you aren’t responsible,” I sit in my personal dungeon and say, “It
was evil. The Germans knew it was evil but they did it anyway.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It is from this raw and vulnerable place that I will be talking talk about my
book, The Last Daughter of Prussia. It is from this painful place
that I want to tell my audience about another shocking side of the war—a side that is
also my inheritance. In telling it I cannot make right anything the Germans
did. What was broken, ravaged, and dead remains broken ravaged and dead.
However, this story, which concerns a group of <a href="http://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/a-time-of-retribution-paying-with-life-and-limb-for-the-crimes-of-nazi-germany-a-759737.html">East Prussian Germans</a>, is also a
part of the greater grief and suffering of humanity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In telling it I want to hold
all people who suffer in the heart of compassion. I want to bring awareness to all
tribes who have been abandoned to cruelty and death. I don’t know exactly what
repair would look like in this shattering legacy of WW2 Germany, this time in
which humans did the unimaginable to each other, but I have a deep hope that in
confronting the pain, in naming it, we may, as human beings, have a chance to
come together in a circle and hear each other, and from that place move toward reconciliation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My prayer is that in giving our broken hearts space for the expression of sorrow, we bring light to the darkness and love to fear and hatred. In the simple compassionate act of staying present with each other and our stories, healing can move into past,
present and future generations.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eqFQYMLpSJo/UyxFtoWsgZI/AAAAAAAAByg/hnn5dQBBwQ0/s1600/East.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eqFQYMLpSJo/UyxFtoWsgZI/AAAAAAAAByg/hnn5dQBBwQ0/s1600/East.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Photo Courtesy Christine Matthäi)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Until next time</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">—Marina Gottlieb Sarles</span></div>
Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-50723915691371912352014-01-21T17:24:00.000-08:002017-08-07T18:17:19.763-07:00One Last TimeHi Everyone,<br />
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As we recover from the holidays and settle back into our daily lives, I think about the many, who, over Christmas and New Year, traveled to different places via cars and planes, boats and trains only to travel home again when the festivities came to an end. I wondered what it must be like NOT to have a home, NOT to be able to return to a corner of the world that means so much to us—a house, an apartment or a cottage we love and cherish, a garden or a wood we frolicked in as children, a sapphire blue ocean or emerald green lake that filled our summers with fun, fishing and an array of curious sights.<br />
<br />
As I contemplated these things, I picked up a book my grandfather had written. In German it is called <a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_von_Sanden-Guja">"Die Zugvögel"</a> which loosely translated means "Migrating Birds." The theme encapsulates<a href="http://majorityrights.com/weblog/comments/the_trek_out_of_east_prussia_1945/"> The Great Trek out of East Prussia </a>at the end of WW2. In it he describes what he felt like to be walking westward—along with thousands of homeless refugees—away from everything he loved while simultaneously noticing the migrating birds flying back to his beloved homeland.<br />
<br />
I've taken the liberty to translate a few paragraphs as well as one of my grandmother's poems. I've also included a series of photographs that give expression to the things he felt homesick for. I'm grateful; for the legacy of photographs he left behind. I hope that the excerpts will give you, the reader, some insight into what that time must have been like for those whose land vanished, for those who could never return home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qDzhQPhprRw/Tx2u_nRMATI/AAAAAAAABFQ/arIwZbXl2PU/s1600/Grossmutti+sits+in+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qDzhQPhprRw/Tx2u_nRMATI/AAAAAAAABFQ/arIwZbXl2PU/s1600/Grossmutti+sits+in+tree.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Grossmutti"<br />
Edith von Sanden leaning on one of<br />
her favorite trees in the garden in<br />
East Prussia before the war.<br />
Once she fled, her hands never stroked the<br />
bark again.<br />
(C Property Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue;">Excerpt from Die Zugvögel written by grandfather...<br /><br />How thankful we would be to God if after all this suffering and grief we could go home to die in peace. If we could just see everything one last time: the river, the lake, the old trees, all the sacred and beloved spots that are woven into the tapestry of our childhood memories. We are a part of these things.</span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zrhfqkOG36U/Tx2uw1uFlmI/AAAAAAAABFI/ewtUJXSEHYU/s1600/Grossvati+Fishing%253ARiver+net.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zrhfqkOG36U/Tx2uw1uFlmI/AAAAAAAABFI/ewtUJXSEHYU/s1600/Grossvati+Fishing%253ARiver+net.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE RIVER<br />
"Grossvati"<br />
My grandfather Walter von Sanden-Guja<br />
fishing by the River Angerapp<br />
in East Prussia before the war.<br />
(C Property Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GX9hKTFWQQ4/TWvmHMOl49I/AAAAAAAAAMw/PmRGYvSuVEk/s1600/Image+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GX9hKTFWQQ4/TWvmHMOl49I/AAAAAAAAAMw/PmRGYvSuVEk/s1600/Image+8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE LAKE<br />
The lake in Guja<br />
(C Property Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kNgd-ylelnU/UtlYklyoW-I/AAAAAAAABx0/mg3uF5jo-zE/s1600/C+%2335:P+29+Another++black+poplar+1905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kNgd-ylelnU/UtlYklyoW-I/AAAAAAAABx0/mg3uF5jo-zE/s1600/C+%2335:P+29+Another++black+poplar+1905.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE OLD TREES<br />
(C Property Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JOkK109jWMo/TWvmSEWYW_I/AAAAAAAAAMw/cuRXO3KmDoo/s1600/Image+29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JOkK109jWMo/TWvmSEWYW_I/AAAAAAAAAMw/cuRXO3KmDoo/s1600/Image+29.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> SACRED SPOTS —RIVER TEMPLE<br />
The tiny temple my great-grandmother had built<br />
by the River<br />
(C Property of Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF-MMx9RrWGEDDCcwM2mYtUhIoavta-6agxUaq_ziKZ5NumoWhNqNl0vc14YBxUKLIJ0uUUJ0LodI9unpMZ9vYj75vSeYZNkRnOhaAbg6Zy9ejykLkBmXyke4O1qzCKGisdL7h8dkcKdQ/s1600/Image+68.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF-MMx9RrWGEDDCcwM2mYtUhIoavta-6agxUaq_ziKZ5NumoWhNqNl0vc14YBxUKLIJ0uUUJ0LodI9unpMZ9vYj75vSeYZNkRnOhaAbg6Zy9ejykLkBmXyke4O1qzCKGisdL7h8dkcKdQ/s1600/Image+68.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CHILDHOOD MEMORIES<br />
The drawing room in the manor house<br />
(C Property Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OFXdmV-MUMs/TZE65Up-p9I/AAAAAAAAAW4/06t2JEMJHo0/s1600/Image+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OFXdmV-MUMs/TZE65Up-p9I/AAAAAAAAAW4/06t2JEMJHo0/s1600/Image+1.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BELOVED FRIENDS<br />
The pond that was home<br />
to the old green frog—a beloved friend<br />
of my grandfathers.<br />
(C Property of the Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: blue;">Excerpt cont…</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue;">We long to turn to dust in the same way these things and these living beings will—in the same way our ancestors did. I know that a home is earthly and transitory, yet God placed such a fervent love in our hearts for its existence. For that reason, it seems it would be a beautiful thing if our hands that loved to work the earth could rest there; if our hearts that sang in tune with nature could fall asleep in the same place where so many of our loved ones' hearts stopped beating.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue;">Walter von Sanden</span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6x0HRcJki_M/Ut1gpgqEdPI/AAAAAAAAByA/Bwk-8YybPFQ/s1600/Crosses+on+graves:Wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6x0HRcJki_M/Ut1gpgqEdPI/AAAAAAAAByA/Bwk-8YybPFQ/s1600/Crosses+on+graves:Wall.jpg" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ANCESTRAL RESTING PLACES</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
And here is the poem by my grandmother — I hope my translation does it justice.<br />
It doesn't have a title but I would call it:<br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue;">One Last Time</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue;">If those of us ravaged by grief</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Could walk home just one last time,</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Our tired eyes would come alive</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Our heavy hearts would fly.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">If we could hear the birds on the wing</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">And breathe in the fresh, forest air</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Then surely the rest of our lives would be</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">One endless, grateful prayer.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue;">Edith von Sanden</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>I wish I could have spoken to my grandparents about their journey, their loss, their grief, their beautiful East Prussia but I was only a child at the time. Now, having extensively researched The Great Trek and East Prussia, their words have a very deep meaning, one that binds me not only to them but to the land of my ancestors, the very earth. Often, I wonder how their genes and interests have influenced me—my love of nature, horses, writing, the spiritual world.<br />
<br />
I wish I could tell them that I have been back to visit their home twice in the last years. It looks so different from the vibrant manor house and estate it once was but I still feel the soul of it deep in my bones. In some ways, I know I am a part of it too. While there, I heard the spirits of the land rustling through the birch leaves. I listened to their soft voices whispering between the bullrushes before they were carried across the lake on the beating wings of a pair of swans. I understand what my grandfather meant when he said he would have wanted <a href="http://www.ostpreussen.net/ostpreussen/orte.php?bericht=155">Guja</a> to be his final resting place. And yet, for all his longing, I trust his soul has found peace.<br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
Until next time,<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
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Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-35738073201083358042014-01-04T14:09:00.000-08:002014-01-04T14:09:47.888-08:00Dichotomy of a Bird SongHi Everyone,<br />
<br />
2014 has arrived! I want to wish you, my readers, the very best. Thank you for your support. I hope that you stay healthy and happy and that you prosper and grow in all aspects of your lives while following your bliss. In my heart, I pray for planetary peace.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fjsOEX8sR3A/TXWi0K561WI/AAAAAAAAAOk/O5JSYE4AVA8/s1600/sea.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fjsOEX8sR3A/TXWi0K561WI/AAAAAAAAAOk/O5JSYE4AVA8/s320/sea.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A peaceful dawn<br />
(Photo courtesy Christine Matthäi</td></tr>
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This year was a milestone for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Prussia-Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/dp/0983918821/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1388871638&sr=1-1&keywords=the+last+daughter+of+prussia+by+marina+sarles">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a>. After years of research and writing, the book was published. My gratitude to <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/user/73">Wild River Books </a>for helping me birth the novel into the world and to Joy Stocke and Kim Nagy for their creative ideas, brilliant editing, constant support and follow through in the PR arena. It was a busy travel year for me with many book signings in the north eastern USA as well as California. The novel was celebrated in Los Angeles via an amazing party organized by my generous friends, Leonid Minkowski and Linda Marlin. Their kindness has brought the story to the attention of people in the film industry. Fingers crossed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1Fv4mQGus74/Usby4gHe0gI/AAAAAAAABwQ/4Dq-RwklZG8/s1600/Linda:Mik.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1Fv4mQGus74/Usby4gHe0gI/AAAAAAAABwQ/4Dq-RwklZG8/s320/Linda:Mik.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Linda and me at the party<br />
in Los angeles</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ro-7nSH5JUg/UsbzwwpXDNI/AAAAAAAABwY/GQPOUT2NQNg/s1600/Tent+w:people+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ro-7nSH5JUg/UsbzwwpXDNI/AAAAAAAABwY/GQPOUT2NQNg/s320/Tent+w:people+4.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pic of the party which was so elegant<br />
and well thought out by my generous friends</td></tr>
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As I reflect on the dawn of this new year, my thoughts travel back in time to what it was like in <a href="http://nemet_sorstragedia_en.lorincz-veger.hu/menekules_ostpreussen_en">East Prussia</a> at the beginning of January 1945 when my story takes place. Beside my keyboard lies an open book written by my grandfather, Walter von Sanden, in which he describes the Trek through the snow and wintry landscape as he and my grandmother fled the invading Russian Army. I want to share a few excerpts which I will translate from German to English. I hope do his writing justice.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iPY5cw8SC7E/TZE74HPpBfI/AAAAAAAAAXc/xIPddZpgiS8/s1600/Text.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iPY5cw8SC7E/TZE74HPpBfI/AAAAAAAAAXc/xIPddZpgiS8/s400/Text.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a little paragraph of my grandfather's handwriting.<br />
This is not from the book I'm translating, but it is a<br />
prayer that he once wrote.<br />
Some of the words say:<br />
Dear God, I know that you are love.<br />
Everywhere, everywhere, I feel your presence…<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Excerpt:</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">… Moving with us in a long column are many sad people, exhausted horses, creaking wagons and worn out prisoners of war. The sky is gray. The endless stretch of ice before us is gray. Our lives are gray. On the howling wind an old hymn reaches my ears: "I call on the power of love which reveals itself in Jesus.…". And then a folk song: "Be patient my soul, for a new spring follows every winter…". It is my wife whose voice rises above the suffering around us and inside us. Forehead pressed to the wind, she pushes through the snow singing songs about faith in God.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandmother Edith von Sanden<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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There is a long passage following this one which describes their journey across the frozen Frisches Haff lagoon— it corroborates what I wrote in my book. After several days of heartbreaking, gruesome sights they make it on to the Nehrung, the thin strip of land that leads to Danzig.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ex0gS4gZoTM/Usb7nR4KHJI/AAAAAAAABws/XZwM0GhCinE/s1600/trachnerhorse2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ex0gS4gZoTM/Usb7nR4KHJI/AAAAAAAABws/XZwM0GhCinE/s400/trachnerhorse2.jpg" width="188" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trek</td></tr>
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Here my grandfather continues:<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">… The road is far too narrow for the amount of traffic it needs to contain. The wagons come to a grinding halt. There must be some kind of obstacle in front of us. Suddenly, we are overtaken by speeding cars. Our hands shake as we stand terrified on the slippery ice. I look inside the passing vehicles that honk at my nerves. I see the Powerful Ones—the so-called leaders—warm and dry in their leather seats—and my thoughts turn bitter with rage. Again we move. It is a cruel and hard trek. My wife's strength is failing.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Exhausted, we finally arrive at the first arm of the Vistula River. The ferry is still sailing. We find a spot between another wagon and some horses. Chunks of ice float on the river's current. The air, gray and wintry, lies over the water and the land. The Russians are a dangerous threat here too. Our escape route lies parallel between their front and the Baltic coast and we must tarry here for quite a while longer.</span><br />
<br />
My grandparents did make it to the other shore and then Grandfather wrote…<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The roar of cannons is always present.The high road we are on runs through the flat countryside which is bare, except for the silent linden trees that stretch their wet, black branches to the heavens. Oh! What's that? A cheery birdsong—a brief, little verse, repeated only twice. "Much too early, much too early," a titmouse warbles as it flits to the upper limbs of a dark tree.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N9Tzkt1Lp4w/UscOP3Vh7-I/AAAAAAAABxQ/9P9KgEtpFfE/s1600/Tufted_titmouse_perching_2006-11-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N9Tzkt1Lp4w/UscOP3Vh7-I/AAAAAAAABxQ/9P9KgEtpFfE/s320/Tufted_titmouse_perching_2006-11-23.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Tufted Titmouse<br />
(Photo Wikipedia)</td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I trudge on as if in a dream and find my soul at home again. I'm coming from the lake, along the well-worn path that runs beside the bubbling brook high with spring water. I'm carrying my fishing nets and turn toward the park, into the alley lined with linden trees that my grandmother planted. I stop and hang my nets to dry in the sun. The catkins on the hazelnut trees swing in the breeze…the titmice sing…the soil is rich and black. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9akSpaj_Etc/Usb8kykyW8I/AAAAAAAABww/3DHb3VwXkBQ/s1600/%2343:P78+The+garden+in+Guja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9akSpaj_Etc/Usb8kykyW8I/AAAAAAAABww/3DHb3VwXkBQ/s400/%2343:P78+The+garden+in+Guja.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The park in Guja, East Prussia<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cJfanITgguQ/Usb8_Mt1y4I/AAAAAAAABw4/nUmMjStcSN8/s1600/%2355+beautifulAnger:Launingken+P132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cJfanITgguQ/Usb8_Mt1y4I/AAAAAAAABw4/nUmMjStcSN8/s400/%2355+beautifulAnger:Launingken+P132.jpg" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The river that ran past the house in <br />
East Prussia<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IT1t1_uAXiY/Usb9jGpCSxI/AAAAAAAABxA/8o3Ox4zrsNQ/s1600/%2362WvS+preparing+nets+for+Ice+fishing+on+AngerP199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IT1t1_uAXiY/Usb9jGpCSxI/AAAAAAAABxA/8o3Ox4zrsNQ/s400/%2362WvS+preparing+nets+for+Ice+fishing+on+AngerP199.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandfather preparing to go fishing<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Spring is coming! Spring is coming! Soon it will burst forth in all its beauty as it only does here at home….But then, I return to harsh reality. I am plodding through the snow and now the titmouse sings, "Nevermore, nevermore. Nevermore will you go home."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GdsqSuTO8LM/TWvmHuW2b7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/5UUdMWIB5VU/s1600/Image+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GdsqSuTO8LM/TWvmHuW2b7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/5UUdMWIB5VU/s320/Image+9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The house in Guja as my grandparents left it<br />
in January 1945 when the Russian Army was<br />
invading.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family<br />
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Those words, written so long ago in the middle of a bitter winter, led me to think about my grandparents, who, at the dawn of a new year, faced death with every coming day. How good my life is, how quiet and sunny and abundant compared to theirs 69 years ago when they fled East Prussia through snowdrifts and sleet with bullets flying at their backs. How grateful I am never to have known that kind of terror or the need to stay vigilant in order to survive.<br />
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I sit here at my desk in a state of relaxation overlooking the Bahamian sea. Outside the mockingbirds whistle their lively tunes from the silver buttonwood trees. A yellow crowned night heron on the prowl for a crab, squawks impatiently when the gardener disturbs him. And oh! 'What's that? A tiny yellow breasted banana quit has come to sit on my window sill and is chirping a tiny, high-pitched verse—"tsip, trip,"that sounds more like" peace, peace." I pause to reflect upon the meaning this bird's song has for me…It's very different from what my grandfather heard because, unlike him, I am not gripped by the cruel hard hand of war. I wish the whole world were free of guns and hatred and fighting. I wish we could all hear the birds sing a song of peace.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1YSPXTGXKWI/UscRYG85JmI/AAAAAAAABxo/5Liw4r1teG0/s1600/Eisvogel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1YSPXTGXKWI/UscRYG85JmI/AAAAAAAABxo/5Liw4r1teG0/s320/Eisvogel.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little kingfisher.<br />
My grandfather was an ornithologist<br />
who took a legacy of photos before the war.<br />
He loved birds.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpE4anhKEr9Z-5Z0-PqYA9sh2Fz2L8jRTXmq9vtzWQRios_UNjZz8I8V1EK-Ixv-ewttTfqyzg15hwEVZG808d-h3uOmssDwsIFIayjfQTCDFKPH_zn9XtXA54x29RiVMpM9pGgxu0TY/s1600/Bird+Little+Ringed+Plover+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpE4anhKEr9Z-5Z0-PqYA9sh2Fz2L8jRTXmq9vtzWQRios_UNjZz8I8V1EK-Ixv-ewttTfqyzg15hwEVZG808d-h3uOmssDwsIFIayjfQTCDFKPH_zn9XtXA54x29RiVMpM9pGgxu0TY/s320/Bird+Little+Ringed+Plover+b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A photo he took of a little ringed plover.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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'Til next time….<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked, and may not be used without permission.</b></span></div>
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<br />Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-89271522285450382312013-10-27T17:11:00.001-07:002013-10-27T17:11:23.397-07:00Making Tracks with Trakehners<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S81Ew2765mA/Um03zv92uVI/AAAAAAAABuY/L35z6C8xs18/s1600/Feiner+Prinz+and+MGS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="337" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S81Ew2765mA/Um03zv92uVI/AAAAAAAABuY/L35z6C8xs18/s400/Feiner+Prinz+and+MGS.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feiner Prinz<br />
(Photo courtesy of Terry Armstrong)</td></tr>
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Hi Everyone,<br />
<br />
Meet Feiner Prinz, a gorgeous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trakehner">Trakehner</a> stallion! I had the pleasure of meeting Feiner Prinz at the <a href="http://americantrakehner.com/">American Trakehner Association</a> Convention in Ohio this month where I was invited to talk about<br />
<a href="http://www.marinagottliebsarles.com/2011/06/prologue-to-last-daughter-of-prussia.html">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a>. Here he is in all his regal beauty! A truly fine prince! (Thank you to his owner Margaret MacGregor for allowing me to stand beside such royalty!) As I held his halter strap, he placed his soft muzzle close to my ear and for a moment, <a href="http://majorityrights.com/weblog/comments/the_trek_out_of_east_prussia_1945/">The Great Trek out of East Prussia</a> flashed before my eyes. In the warmth of his breath I thought I heard him whisper, <i>Hey</i> <i>Marina, what if my equine ancestors and your grandparents helped each other on that dangerous journey, that fateful flight across the ice? Maybe we're connected through our families.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mqbmP8M2KR8/Um1C20Hb7xI/AAAAAAAABuo/alLc3-INkqE/s1600/Mik+:Feiner+Prinz+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="321" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mqbmP8M2KR8/Um1C20Hb7xI/AAAAAAAABuo/alLc3-INkqE/s400/Mik+:Feiner+Prinz+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Courtesy Terry Armstrong</td></tr>
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Yes, I thought, we're e all connected—humans, animals, the whole world and probably all meetings have a reason even though we might not know it. As I held him I wondered how many of his equine ancestors had been touched by my family's human hands—especially my East Prussian grandparents and great-grandparents who loved and bred Trakehners for so many generations. Certainly, we know that after World War II, the re-establishment of this magnificent warmblood breed—and beautiful modern horses like Feiner Prinz — depended on that handful of pure-bred Trakehners that survived the bitter trek. They were the unsung heroes of that journey giving their hearts to pull their human families westward in wagons through snow, artillery zones and finally over a treacherous frozen lagoon where many fell to their icy deaths. I wrote the book for them because the horses could never tell their story and in saving hundreds of thousands of lives, the Trakehners did the impossible.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUeP8mwKtto/Um1LKehJmcI/AAAAAAAABu8/fPFT1eYaCLo/s1600/Black+Trak+w%253A+ATA+banner.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUeP8mwKtto/Um1LKehJmcI/AAAAAAAABu8/fPFT1eYaCLo/s320/Black+Trak+w%253A+ATA+banner.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Courtesy Susan Bertke<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMtVBK34C6F9_9oQUoWLB9RGVVyTXT7K2t8ZsP-4ratCluHDgpkxeghXpjNpMU8krRclk4eTeZ1md0A3eS7hICzOvwrKpcJvYqcX9uK_9ASgSaL5IErBNuT7YOm3tiZ1bkTfFOzelAWM/s1600/Black+Trak+being+hosed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMtVBK34C6F9_9oQUoWLB9RGVVyTXT7K2t8ZsP-4ratCluHDgpkxeghXpjNpMU8krRclk4eTeZ1md0A3eS7hICzOvwrKpcJvYqcX9uK_9ASgSaL5IErBNuT7YOm3tiZ1bkTfFOzelAWM/s320/Black+Trak+being+hosed.JPG" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy Susan Bertke</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4G28hQsq9098GRzCLAr-sQE80YPZFEHqJ1_cLinEFdMnr4yEtzXxmNV2VJ0pwCJy4J7z3A3a61mM2BoPDz_k0GenuksmAcO8hN2qeQ449KfCx7VNZPRhrDKxdSDniliWBKAaNw8hP3A/s1600/Black+Trak+jumping.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4G28hQsq9098GRzCLAr-sQE80YPZFEHqJ1_cLinEFdMnr4yEtzXxmNV2VJ0pwCJy4J7z3A3a61mM2BoPDz_k0GenuksmAcO8hN2qeQ449KfCx7VNZPRhrDKxdSDniliWBKAaNw8hP3A/s320/Black+Trak+jumping.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Courtesy Susan Bertke</td></tr>
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I met such wonderful people at the ATA Convention. Everyone was so down to earth, their dedication and love for the breed visibly palpable in that warm Ohio air. <a href="http://www.majesticfarm.net/">Majestic Farm</a> is a wonderful place with clean, airy stables and riding halls. I loved watching the mare and stallion inspections, seeing their graceful fluid movements and floating trots, assessing their measurements and the ways they conform and are put together. I even got to sit next to Erhard Schulte and ask him questions as a few of the horses were being shown. Meeting Erhard in person was special as he is one of the foremost specialists on Trakehners who freely shared advice with me while I was writing.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K3_V3bpizVA/Um1Rt8-qC3I/AAAAAAAABvI/gTQfBSoqtk8/s1600/Mik+Erhard+Schulte+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K3_V3bpizVA/Um1Rt8-qC3I/AAAAAAAABvI/gTQfBSoqtk8/s400/Mik+Erhard+Schulte+1.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Erhard Schulte and me at the ATA Convention Oct 2013<br />
(Photo Courtesy Ann Dionne)<br />
Thank you Ann Dionne for driving to see me after so many years.<br />
There is no time. Friends forever! Many lifetimes!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At this same exciting event another one of my supporting angels drove to visit me —Donald Bertke. It was our first face-to-face meeting and I was thrilled to be able to personally thank him for his expertise. Without him, my heroes, Manya and Joshi, might never have made it out of East Prussia. He explained barges and loading procedures, broken steam lines and escape routes to me, all via e-mail for a couple of years without even knowing who I was. Some people are just like that.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AgLnOMeafYM/Um1UkCMqJWI/AAAAAAAABvU/5TjHtOkKs_Y/s1600/Mik:Donald+Bertke.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AgLnOMeafYM/Um1UkCMqJWI/AAAAAAAABvU/5TjHtOkKs_Y/s400/Mik:Donald+Bertke.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Donald Bertke and me at the convention<br />
Photo courtesy Susan Bertke<br />
(Thanks Susan for your great pics!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It really was a fabulous experience, the icing on the cake being that I could talk freely about my book to a captive audience and share my innermost feelings about the East Prussians, Romani Gypsies and brave Trakehner horses during World War II. I only wish my mother could have been with me but perhaps she and my grandparents were watching from the bleachers on high.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hSbrE46AfFM/Um1XOwdGXBI/AAAAAAAABvo/6shGx6SWn5E/s1600/Mik+Talking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hSbrE46AfFM/Um1XOwdGXBI/AAAAAAAABvo/6shGx6SWn5E/s400/Mik+Talking.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me telling my story<br />
(photo courtesy Terry Armstrong)<br />
Thanks Terry for your patience with pics</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In conclusion, I want to thank everyone who invited me to the convention and helped me while I was there: Karen Stopek, Eileen Krause, Wally Cullen, Margaret MacGregor, Tim Holekamp and Kelly Gulick and so many others. Also thanks to the many who bought books. Never in a million years would I have dreamed that when I started writing The Last Daughter of Prussia I would be presenting the material to such a prestigious, knowledgable group of Trakehner lovers. I feel a true bond and deep gratitude.<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
<br />Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-42803654344985416722013-09-27T19:53:00.000-07:002013-09-27T20:09:51.610-07:00You Tube Clip—East Hampton Library Talk<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CQAJ80amF0">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CQAJ80amF0</a></span><br />
<br />
Hi Everyone,<br />
<br />
Just a few words to keep you posted as to what's going on. I'm in between speaking engagements for the book tour and back in the Bahamas for only a few days. Leaving on Thursday to speak at the <a href="http://americantrakehner.com/Conventions/default.html">American Trakehner Association</a> Convention in Ohio and then on to Los Angeles where my dear friends are hosting a book signing. Meeting people is wonderful and fulfilling whilst traveling is exhausting... but when I feel tired, I remind myself of what the refugees on the trek went through, how tired they must have felt, how hungry, cold and terrified.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6YQJqQgMEmQ/UkY_AEkU1DI/AAAAAAAABt0/WasWQctybwc/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6YQJqQgMEmQ/UkY_AEkU1DI/AAAAAAAABt0/WasWQctybwc/s320/photo.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for the talk at the East Hampton Library</td></tr>
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<br />
I am posting this video clip of a talk I gave at the <a href="http://www.easthamptonlibrary.org/">East Hampton Library</a> last weekend where I met a wonderful man— Ed Naujoks—a survivor of the Great Trek out of East Prussian who calls himself an "Old Prussian Rebel." Ed drove all the way from Connecticut to Long Island and I so enjoyed sharing information with him and meeting his lovely wife Faith. Our conversations were rich and touching and his stories corroborated all of my research. I'm so happy we met. What is interesting too is that my grandfather used the name Naujoks in his diaries and in my novel The Last Daughter of Prussia I did the same. There's a sentence in the scene where Manya witnesses the terrible Russian ambush on Nemmersdorf that reads like this:<br />
<br />
<i> Manya heard sharp blasts and looked toward the church. Beyond it, in Farmer Naujok's field, men were lined up. One by one, they jerked and fell as bullets ripped into their backs. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I just find that life is full of coincidences or perhaps I should say there are reasons and guiding forces for every encounter in our lives.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EVIPsARgGGQ/UkY-qedFmjI/AAAAAAAABtg/ce9oO-bqIEw/s1600/DSCF0138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EVIPsARgGGQ/UkY-qedFmjI/AAAAAAAABtg/ce9oO-bqIEw/s320/DSCF0138.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ed Naujoks— a survivor of the Great Trek and me at the library</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
The you tube video clip you see here is a part of my talk at the East Hampton Library. My wonderful publicist, Kim Nagy, of <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/user/73">Wild River Books</a> is the person introducing me.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-f81F5vyFdV4hMzm9dLOk7wSzr-AG2akrAlclYACOuansxokMPBnwBa5hXTJHXURq6yFUrji7cUCIBNaywETRggCwxQCE7LqkDBj0wJAvTB5k5pLt6Bk6TMCWi0rPVLaTIaJlKC7CmlE/s1600/DSCF0216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-f81F5vyFdV4hMzm9dLOk7wSzr-AG2akrAlclYACOuansxokMPBnwBa5hXTJHXURq6yFUrji7cUCIBNaywETRggCwxQCE7LqkDBj0wJAvTB5k5pLt6Bk6TMCWi0rPVLaTIaJlKC7CmlE/s320/DSCF0216.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kim Nagy, my publicist of Wild River Books with me<br />
in Shelter Island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CQAJ80amF0">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CQAJ80amF0</a></span><br />
<br />
While in that old prestigious library I felt as if I was breathing in rich air laden with centuries of literature. Again I recognized the importance of storytelling. Stories keep the pieces of humanity in our remembrance so they don't get lost.<br />
<br />
Thank you everyone for coming. Special thanks to Dennis Fabiszac and Steve Spataro for inviting me to speak.<br />
<br />
Until next time...<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb SarlesMarina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-30576237414903522632013-09-12T09:02:00.001-07:002013-09-12T09:02:50.420-07:00The Last Daughter wins Global E Book Award<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Hi Everyone,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I have been so busy traveling and working on talks for my upcoming book tour that I have hardly had a moment to spare. The good news is that the Los-Angeles-based Global Book Awards run by author and
publisher, <a href="http://globalebookawards.com/">Dan Poynter</a>, leading authority on e-book publishing,
awarded <span style="font-style: italic;">The Last Daughter of Prussia </span>an Honorable Mention. So in the category of Historical Fiction, The Last Daughter is a <span style="font-weight: 700;">Global Ebook Award Winner!</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMy0H-kQaSz7Fs_vqI3nErV5pME4wfPO1Bo-MvWVSkCr53qKP59IsRCnMlwv4_XtRRnEstDkA99wFnEeXJJSxFKF2XJHAloNR5x5x4BkeCBOWticFvJqT0cq075KL1iAswYwrirw8sws/s1600/honorable-mention-2013-global-ebook-awards.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMy0H-kQaSz7Fs_vqI3nErV5pME4wfPO1Bo-MvWVSkCr53qKP59IsRCnMlwv4_XtRRnEstDkA99wFnEeXJJSxFKF2XJHAloNR5x5x4BkeCBOWticFvJqT0cq075KL1iAswYwrirw8sws/s1600/honorable-mention-2013-global-ebook-awards.png" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-weight: 700;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I am thrilled about this prestigious award which also creates a buzz and word of mouth publicity. It feels awesome to have such a wonderful acknowledgement for the years of research and writing, for the many times I sat with the story and photographs, wondering what my grandparents went through when they fled the invading Russian Army and embarked on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Prussia">Great Trek</a> out of East Prussia in the bitter winter of 1944/45— a journey on which over half a million people perished.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzK4ipVrxV5ZMeDC90PNfzB7IrJXgx7t1D4ppVgssAd2ITz19xrN_i3tsYoc8_O4mSSkbtCSUqP_9lloklcAnIfN1wfJUh3AvsIHOUa5dxMvH7-MgrEazc3jTXzb0wSbKCCHqvySFnG4/s1600/Flucht.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzK4ipVrxV5ZMeDC90PNfzB7IrJXgx7t1D4ppVgssAd2ITz19xrN_i3tsYoc8_O4mSSkbtCSUqP_9lloklcAnIfN1wfJUh3AvsIHOUa5dxMvH7-MgrEazc3jTXzb0wSbKCCHqvySFnG4/s1600/Flucht.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Great Trek out of East Prussia<br />Winter 1944/45</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Reading about what so many desperate people—<a href="http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10005219">Romani Gypsies</a> and Jews— were forced to endure in the camps, in this terrible holocaust, was unbelievably painful. I often thought I would have to stop because my heart hurt so much and my sleep was forever interrupted by the nightmarish images. There were days I just spent crying. But through it all I felt a calling to also write about the plight of the East Prussian people; the brave <span style="font-size: 12pt;">Trakehner horses whose
flight from their homeland </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">is one of the greatest,
most tragic sagas of equine and human history. One that is seldom discussed. German civilians who fled—mostly women, children and elderly people —never felt they had a right to speak about their suffering, loss and the countless rapes they endured. (An estimated 3 milliion women were raped many to death.) How could they dare speak </span>in a land where Hitler's corpses of genocide were piled so high?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_8D20xbKRGRJWsddK5Vpz0Cj0VaQKpGBkUGWa7vsrjR8Z06Bu67JS4MFiueEeUCrly62ss4FLfj9m_5UeYBpirqiR2LX7Mbf9Xr7uvy9GkiALuGWn-XiU0JGHhpitE4oPCrmmeORt2g/s1600/NC+Me+Looking+Ashes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_8D20xbKRGRJWsddK5Vpz0Cj0VaQKpGBkUGWa7vsrjR8Z06Bu67JS4MFiueEeUCrly62ss4FLfj9m_5UeYBpirqiR2LX7Mbf9Xr7uvy9GkiALuGWn-XiU0JGHhpitE4oPCrmmeORt2g/s320/NC+Me+Looking+Ashes.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My reflection in the glass at the<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stutthof_concentration_camp"> Stutthof</a> Holocaust Museum, Poland<br />as I look at the bones and ashes<br />of thousands of people who died in there.<br />One of the most painful moments<br />during my research<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Still, it is important that everyone's story be told so that healing can happen and the buried traumas undisclosed secrets and emotional taboos are not perpetuated into future generations. It is important that wounds be brought to light and aired so our DNA can heal from the scars of our lineage and we can begin to understand the dysfunctional patterns that often affect us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OYnRcq8-0HU/TWvl-7MqOxI/AAAAAAAAAMw/N63zDwvw29w/s1600/Image+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OYnRcq8-0HU/TWvl-7MqOxI/AAAAAAAAAMw/N63zDwvw29w/s320/Image+1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mother, Owanta Gottlieb von Sanden<br />as a little girl in East Prussia<br />before the war<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I am grateful to my readers who write and tell me that reading <i>The Last Daughter of Prussia</i> helps them acknowledge the overwhelming legacy of postwar grief, as well as the
physical and psychological toll of unspoken painful family memories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> One audience member said “Sarles’s reading was really incredible last night. I want
to thank her and acknowledge the healing that I saw. It touched me and I am
struck with the power of it all and the way that people opened up to their most
vulnerable places, most probably long held in their hearts.”</span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwR7uCDUk891kiAZxayhxaAT2eSLOIFOWmYMKrN5Drt9JHs8Wys5hyphenhyphenofTgKz_lIp7xTj4hAx3C6At8yM_zOm8ieXgPB5E5N4UCZHn4yAISk6hMJOQy4CBJ3m1lF0Gl5M9wrBrhqorJA7o/s1600/DSCF5841+copy+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwR7uCDUk891kiAZxayhxaAT2eSLOIFOWmYMKrN5Drt9JHs8Wys5hyphenhyphenofTgKz_lIp7xTj4hAx3C6At8yM_zOm8ieXgPB5E5N4UCZHn4yAISk6hMJOQy4CBJ3m1lF0Gl5M9wrBrhqorJA7o/s320/DSCF5841+copy+copy.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Healing<br />Photo (C) Courtesy <a href="http://www.christinematthai.com/Artwork/Welcome.html">Christine Matthäi</a></td></tr>
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I don't add that quote lightly as I don't want to seem grandiose but if healing can happen in only one heart then I feel writing the book has been worthwhile. My fervent prayer is that many are touched and find the clarity and courage to unravel the details of their own family stories.<br />
<br />
—Until next time<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles</div>
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<!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment-->Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-80770065296636777602013-07-31T16:59:00.001-07:002013-08-01T13:46:31.486-07:00Another Untold Story: My Lenape Indian LineageHi Everyone,<br />
<br />
Last week I shared a story of hunger and faith about my grandmother that was edited out of the final draft of <a href="http://www.marinagottliebsarles.com/2011/06/prologue-to-last-daughter-of-prussia.html">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a>. I want to share another one. I enjoy this process because these pieces reveal a lot about my East Prussian roots.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZAR6k2UEsUI/UflAoT42iSI/AAAAAAAABrM/GGMi7Kt7yn8/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZAR6k2UEsUI/UflAoT42iSI/AAAAAAAABrM/GGMi7Kt7yn8/s320/photo.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crest_(heraldry)">Crest </a>of my forefathers in East Prussia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The story I'm going to tell you is true. (At least that's what I was told by my mother.) My editors thought it could be a book of its own because it is almost too farfetched and presented in the novel it would have detracted from the main storyline and readers would not have believed it. So, at my editors request, I relinquished it, albeit with a twinge of regret as I think all writers who have to give up beloved pieces do.<br />
<br />
The story is about my ancestor, Wilhelm Schlüter who lived in East Prussia during the mid -1700's. Wilhelm was a horse breeder and a businessman who travelled to America— the Philadelphia area to be exact. Not only did he make a good part of his fortune there, he also found the love of his life—a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lenape">Lenni Lenape Indian</a> woman whom he married and took back with him to East Prussia. (It sounds crazy, right? But it's true. My brother Fred wears their wedding band on his finger. So we kids who are of Prussian and Danish descent, actually have Native American Indian blood in our veins). Even back then the world was small!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihS96LAv0vEWKe-SFnZxDw1G_xVwDdJJWFttgtW9UR95OfEqTwhdwEw8Xpw0oyCE4DVVJRjqCuGcI5mG2PpiLjRMpxeHP4LqYo5r-bjLumDcCAZtV1_F_MKQyu3fdblLFSDp2Bkxx-ZOY/s1600/1004726_10152909855165578_85993144_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihS96LAv0vEWKe-SFnZxDw1G_xVwDdJJWFttgtW9UR95OfEqTwhdwEw8Xpw0oyCE4DVVJRjqCuGcI5mG2PpiLjRMpxeHP4LqYo5r-bjLumDcCAZtV1_F_MKQyu3fdblLFSDp2Bkxx-ZOY/s320/1004726_10152909855165578_85993144_n.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The woman above is NOT my ancestor.<br />
However, I imagine Elkwoman might have had a face<br />
like this—so strong within herself.<br />
I believe that she and Wilhelm had 3or 4 children.<br />
(Photo FB Native American Indians - Old Photos)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ntxq5jucXmA/TZDnXtJCXeI/AAAAAAAAAT8/jwvDEApQUV4/s1600/image+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ntxq5jucXmA/TZDnXtJCXeI/AAAAAAAAAT8/jwvDEApQUV4/s320/image+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandmother Edith von Sanden (born von Schlüter)<br />
—a direct descendant of Wilhelm von Schlüter and<br />
his Native American wife.<br />
Here she is teaching me, as a toddler, about flowers<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sometime after Wilhelm returned to East Prussia he was summoned to appear before <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_William_I_of_Prussia">King Friedrich Wilhelm I</a>. The King had decided that he wanted to assume the responsibility of breeding a perfect cavalry mount—later known as the famous Trakehner breed—that was both beautiful, trainable and enduring. He enlisted my ancestor to bring his best horses to the royal stable. In return he bestowed a title of nobility on Wilhelm whose name then became Wilhelm <i>von</i> Schlüter. (The <i>von</i> denotes nobility.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8ga03msz6UM/Ufkrs8CGfpI/AAAAAAAABqc/5Nz4Xd_2QK8/s1600/Frederick_Wm_I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8ga03msz6UM/Ufkrs8CGfpI/AAAAAAAABqc/5Nz4Xd_2QK8/s320/Frederick_Wm_I.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kaiser Friedrich Wilhelm I of Prussia <br />
who bestowed a title of nobility on my ancestor<br />
Wilhelm von Schlüter.<br />
My ancestor bred good horses and<br />
this king was interested in establishing<br />
a powerful breed fit for his army.<br />
(Photo taken from the internet<br />
es/rschwart/hist151/LouisXiv/Images/Frederick_Wm_I.jpg)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anyway, before these scenes (which I had written in fictional form) were edited from my manuscript, I had created a powerful, mystical character out of my Lenape Indian ancestor. (Lenni Lenape means Human Beings or Real People in the Unami language.) I called her <i>Elchfrau</i>—Elkwoman and throughout the book she visited my heroine, Manya, in dreams and visions showing her the way and giving her guidance about her horses, the trek and her love life. I loved Elkwoman. I still do. So often I think of what it must have been like for her in the 1700's coming from her Native American way of life to East Prussia. I imagine her to have been a wise medicine woman. I see her walking through the rich green forests of my forefathers' land, stopping to pick herbs and comparing the fauna and flowers, the birds and wild animals to what she had left behind.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lj-MN0rZhnE/UflIpyOanfI/AAAAAAAABrc/Xv6UisKKsG0/s1600/4+Elk+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lj-MN0rZhnE/UflIpyOanfI/AAAAAAAABrc/Xv6UisKKsG0/s320/4+Elk+.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moose">moose</a> in East Prussia that<br />
Elkwoman might have encountered.<br />
The Lenape depended on the meat of the animal<br />
and they used the hides to make moccasins<br />
and clothing items. Sadly the moose has<br />
been extinct in the Northeastern USA for over 150 years. <br />
However, there are large numbers in Poland<br />
which used to be East Prussia.<br />
(Photo from a book:Von Memel Bis Trakehnen)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ft_J2hW0N9k/UfkwprMzLjI/AAAAAAAABqs/kN7e_bj853E/s1600/%2341+River+landscape%3f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="231" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ft_J2hW0N9k/UfkwprMzLjI/AAAAAAAABqs/kN7e_bj853E/s320/%2341+River+landscape%3f.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grasses and bull rushes by the bank of a river tributary<br />
in East Prussia<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOclwxxZSqS3hZWLdEQImeEZTzFzABKhHfgavWAWqdsrqdcInHeFqvculnH4w3jGocb3CJuJfWsgZ1Kylh34qm1H8exLXaIvH_cZEZOOIR_E7Kq45RLYm7J4j5oJ_ZGQMALSrsl59-5g/s1600/Image+23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOclwxxZSqS3hZWLdEQImeEZTzFzABKhHfgavWAWqdsrqdcInHeFqvculnH4w3jGocb3CJuJfWsgZ1Kylh34qm1H8exLXaIvH_cZEZOOIR_E7Kq45RLYm7J4j5oJ_ZGQMALSrsl59-5g/s320/Image+23.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bathing spot in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angrapa_River">Angerapp River</a><br />
How gorgeous the sight must have appeared<br />
to Elchwoman <br />
who came from the Delaware River region.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When I sense into her soul I feel that she was happy in East Prussia because it was rich, untouched land, full of clean rivers, fresh air, and rolling hills beneath azure skies dotted with fluffy, cumulus clouds. It must have reminded her of the land along the Delaware River. I see her fishing in the lakes and cantering across fields full of dandelions. I hear her singing her native chants while she tanned the hides of deer, wolves and moose. I watch her bare feet stepping softly on the wet moss by the riverbanks, her hands deftly picking the tall grasses and bull rushes which she wove into mats and baskets. I feel her gratitude for the sacredness of all nature, the life-giving warmth of the sun, the protective spirit of the sky, the ever-present cycles of the moon. These are images that run through my head, things I feel inside me. Are they real? I don't know but I am keenly aware of my own intimate connection to nature and my spirit whispers that her knowledge is in my genes.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-yW2omCT4pITanuQuIugNNY2UXYtQ0r0iLOmMMJa_lDxJr5hUAtx91impu0LzbKq8RRBUA9GX0eTwqdLdOg8Xh6yHibnKwgSS26uze7qAxneUnkyHqzETZi7cjCYZFrK-6TJT9MQVOSA/s1600/Image+7+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-yW2omCT4pITanuQuIugNNY2UXYtQ0r0iLOmMMJa_lDxJr5hUAtx91impu0LzbKq8RRBUA9GX0eTwqdLdOg8Xh6yHibnKwgSS26uze7qAxneUnkyHqzETZi7cjCYZFrK-6TJT9MQVOSA/s320/Image+7+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lake in East Prussia that Elchwoman <br />
would have walked along.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQsgo7dvY-69JcWmSgNOybOFgumvwkuxK0hSpzEn01kL1VjdJTL5DOpYLDWvO50jRJi_hR-jt1JK0K69I_sbFor8n78HuYWBGRvhQJMCL2a1K_Ub6M9AbnBq4GxOdkEvuMc5KdSez3Rw/s1600/Image+62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQsgo7dvY-69JcWmSgNOybOFgumvwkuxK0hSpzEn01kL1VjdJTL5DOpYLDWvO50jRJi_hR-jt1JK0K69I_sbFor8n78HuYWBGRvhQJMCL2a1K_Ub6M9AbnBq4GxOdkEvuMc5KdSez3Rw/s320/Image+62.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandfather in East Prussia<br />
before the war preparing to set his <br />
fishing nets.<br />
As a Lenni Lenape, Elchwoman <br />
would have known how to fish too.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So before I ramble, let me include an outtake from my novel. This was how it read before. It's different now— you can read the new version in the book which you can purchase on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Prussia-Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/dp/0983918821">amazon</a> if your interested, but hopefully this will give you a glimpse into my heroine's life. And just a note here: my editors were right. It couldn't stay the way it was because the story of the Great Trek was so strong in and of itself that it needed to be told in a straightforward way. So I bow to them with gratitude. (And maybe I'll just write another book about Elchfrau.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vUezmQxr0N4/Ufk-iDMe35I/AAAAAAAABq8/S0n0DZxjlAU/s1600/Joy:Kim+Champagne.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vUezmQxr0N4/Ufk-iDMe35I/AAAAAAAABq8/S0n0DZxjlAU/s320/Joy:Kim+Champagne.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My editors Joy Stocke and Kim Nagy<br />
of <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/user/73">Wild River Books</a><br />
enjoying a glass of champagne at<br />
the launch of my historical novel<br />
The Last Daughter of Prussia<br />
Photo Courtesy Christine Matthäi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Outtake">OUTTAKE</a> from the novel:<br />
<br />
No matter how
depressed the baroness might be, she loved birthdays. She never forgot to place
a wreath of violets and white chrysanthemums on the breakfast table. She always
brought out the Meissen porcelain, too, and the antique silver cutlery and the
gifts.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Overcome with eagerness to see what gifts awaited her, Manya
pulled her dressing gown on and hurried down the stairs to the glass-enclosed
winter garden.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Usually her father was the first to greet her, but this
morning she saw only her mother, who smiled from her seat at the breakfast
table.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
“Happy birthday, <i>Liebchen</i>,”
she said. “I have a special gift for you this morning.” She set a buttered <i>Semmel</i> roll on Manya’s plate. “Until
now, your father gave you presents meant for tomboys, but at twenty-one, you’re
a woman.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Manya blushed. Her mother was not usually so direct. She sat
down in her chair and watched as her mother retrieved a small silver box from
her powder blue cardigan pocket. “Take it,” urged the baroness, holding the
gift across the table. “It’s a piece of your heritage.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Manya took it and looked at the lid.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
“Who is this?” she asked, running her finger over the
miniature portrait of a woman with dark braided hair and chestnut colored eyes
that were kind yet penetrating. Behind the face stood an elk with imposing
antlers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
“She’s beautiful,” said Manya. “But she looks foreign. What
does she have to do with our family?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
“Open the box, and look your other gift. Then, I’ll tell you
the story.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Carefully, Manya lifted the lid. Inside, was a gold ring,
set with a large amber cabochon, carved and polished into a glowing oval. Two
diamonds sparkled on either side of the honey-colored resin. The gold band was
engraved with <i>WvS + MvS, 1744. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
The baroness
spoke softly. “That ring has been passed down through six generations of women
in our family. You are the seventh.” She paused, as if weighing her words.
Then, quite suddenly, she whispered. “I believe the ring has mystical powers.
Those who’ve worn it claimed to have compelling dreams.” She swallowed, “I can
testify to that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
A chill ran across Manya’s skin. Something in her mother’s
voice sounded fearful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Manya glancing up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
The baroness let out a sharp sigh and picked up her teacup
with trembling fingers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; mso-outline-level: 1;">
“It is a strange story,” she murmured. “But
here’s what my mother told me.” She took a sip and continued. “Long ago, in the
18<sup>th</sup> century, we had an ancestor named Wilhelm Schlüter. He traded
furs and amber, traveling all the way to America to a city called Philadelphia.
He worked with an Indian tribe, called the Lenape, who had settled on a river
called the Delaware. One day, while he was in a village bargaining with the
tribal elders, he fell ill with a terrible fever. They brought him to the
chieftain, whose daughter, Moshanna, was a medicine woman. When Moshanna saw
Wilhelm she recognized him as the white man who had appeared in her dreams and
who would take her to a foreign land. And that’s what happened. Moshanna nursed
him back to health and when he came around Wilhelm fell in love with her. Not
long after, he returned to East Prussia with Moshanna as his wife. Strange, no?
A Lenape Indian and an East Prussian.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; mso-outline-level: 1;">
Manya studied the tiny portrait.
“Mother,” she said, astonished, “is she the <i>Elchfrau</i>,
the Elkwoman that people talk about in the villages? The spirit Helling says
can bring back any horse that gets lost in the forest?” Her mother nodded. “Why
haven’t you told me about her before?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; mso-outline-level: 1;">
Her mother’s eyes fixed on the ring. “I
couldn’t talk about her. When I wore the ring I saw terrible things, bodies
without faces lying dead in the village square. Our forests burning. Our rivers
crimson. I didn’t want to see anymore so I buried the ring in the garden.” She
chewed at her lip. “Oh, child, I’ve never been strong! Sometimes I feel like
the slightest thing pushes me over the edge. But you are different! You are
strong! You will know what must be done when the visions come.”<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-48379078289991979072013-07-09T18:43:00.000-07:002013-07-09T18:43:40.251-07:00The Bread of LifeHi Everyone,<br />
<br />
So many people who read <a href="http://www.marinagottliebsarles.com/2011/06/prologue-to-last-daughter-of-prussia.html">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a> ask me if the story is true. My answer is always, "Yes, the novel was extensively researched and everything you read is based in truth and steeped in anecdotes passed down to me by my family and my grandfather's diaries. It is an honest piece of rarely told history. However, the characters are fictional and certain parts were invented and intricately woven to make the plot interesting and real to the reader."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nvIiPTt7D14/UdxXhxjy8cI/AAAAAAAABpA/Zp1nBkZSYAw/s1600/Grosmutti%2526+Grossvatl%253Acamera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nvIiPTt7D14/UdxXhxjy8cI/AAAAAAAABpA/Zp1nBkZSYAw/s320/Grosmutti%2526+Grossvatl%253Acamera.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My East Prussian grandparents in peaceful times<br />
before the trek<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There were many stories that I wanted to weave into the heart of the book but it would have been way too long and my editors were firm in their decision to cut anything superfluous and keep the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narrative">narrative</a> moving. Lately though, I've been thinking about the stories that didn't make it into the various chapters. I want to share one of them with you today because it speaks to what the people on the <a href="http://majorityrights.com/weblog/comments/the_trek_out_of_east_prussia_1945/">"Great Trek" </a>out of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Prussia">East Prussia</a> went through. More importantly, it speaks to faith.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B9ABML-rJwo/UdxXzSsTdMI/AAAAAAAABpI/pwYhdL-kPTA/s1600/Grossmutti+Profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B9ABML-rJwo/UdxXzSsTdMI/AAAAAAAABpI/pwYhdL-kPTA/s320/Grossmutti+Profile.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandmother <a href="http://www.ostpreussisches-landesmuseum.de/menue-rechts/termine/einzeltermin/article/walter-von-sanden-guja-naturschriftsteller-aus-ostpreussen.html">Edith von Sanden </a><br />
before the war.<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I will try to tell it as my grandmother, Edith von Sanden once told it to me. I want it come through me in her voice, that soft, near whisper-of-words that has stayed with me ever since I was a little girl and we sat on her garden bench in Hüde, northern Germany, watching hazel <a href="http://www.arkive.org/hazel-pot-beetle/cryptocephalus-coryli/photos.html">pot beetles</a> with red wings and black heads crawl around the trunk of a large birch tree. Every so often she would touch my hand and point to a goldfinch flitting through the bushes. Sometimes her grey eyes would travel up to the sky, her gaze capturing an osprey that swooped down toward the nearby Dümmer Lake. She loved nature. For her, nothing in nature went unnoticed. The smallest ladybug, the tiniest wriggling earthworm, a broken stalk of flowering hawkweed, a green tree frog hidden in a bark crevice, stones with odd shapes, dragonflies, a shy hedgehog, feathers; they all caught her attention.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tK1spkI2LHI/TZE4RM9PuNI/AAAAAAAAAVg/qneoXgYhmhU/s1600/Image+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tK1spkI2LHI/TZE4RM9PuNI/AAAAAAAAAVg/qneoXgYhmhU/s320/Image+2.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawkweed (painted by my grandmother)<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TaHjOxxQc6k/TZE5rHLOsyI/AAAAAAAAAWc/jddzQa5ohXw/s1600/Image+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TaHjOxxQc6k/TZE5rHLOsyI/AAAAAAAAAWc/jddzQa5ohXw/s320/Image+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green frog <br />
(photographed by my grandfather Walter von Sanden<br />
an avid naturalist)<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GzHJbc_PPME/TZE6jHJck6I/AAAAAAAAAWw/FBNmdVBMGIY/s1600/Image+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GzHJbc_PPME/TZE6jHJck6I/AAAAAAAAAWw/FBNmdVBMGIY/s320/Image+3.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby swallows in the barn nest waiting<br />
to be fed.<br />
(Photo by my grandfather Walter von Sanden)<br />
(C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2mOdGDuvBJw/TZE5gAw8mGI/AAAAAAAAAWY/K5IXDl62gUY/s1600/Image+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2mOdGDuvBJw/TZE5gAw8mGI/AAAAAAAAAWY/K5IXDl62gUY/s320/Image+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dragonfly resting on a plant<br />
Photo by my grandfather Walter von Sanden<br />
(C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh34qbSz0KLthMPSoZtrWP9LDsVnhkKm7UWDSmHW_DgBrXtjAHvhPTDbv_xJW6orcXCQ4L7KnBxQkcA38-mECwbzPCmk8T1_z6tspx1nNSRzI0-AQK7p9n1G-0kvgXaR6YFr4GWMq-MJc/s1600/Image+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh34qbSz0KLthMPSoZtrWP9LDsVnhkKm7UWDSmHW_DgBrXtjAHvhPTDbv_xJW6orcXCQ4L7KnBxQkcA38-mECwbzPCmk8T1_z6tspx1nNSRzI0-AQK7p9n1G-0kvgXaR6YFr4GWMq-MJc/s320/Image+2.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hedgehog looking at his reflection <br />
in the water.<br />
Photo by my grandfather,<a href="http://www.ostpreussisches-landesmuseum.de/menue-rechts/termine/einzeltermin/article/walter-von-sanden-guja-naturschriftsteller-aus-ostpreussen.html"> Walter von Sanden</a><br />
(C) Gottlieb Family </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
But back to the story. When I looked up from the beetles to ask her about the war and the trek that had taken her so far away from her old home, this is what she told me:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmB_tIVGwhsLb83cjvM9dfifen_h5Hl26FNSlVbbzeoFM4E5RY9V17yVw7KQ2TnYoGjAUhCozwHPsMXpZY-ikLV0ByFALb1dMKz02scW1hqxgCre2qzhebqjPHyGuA90jcPntLUrzrR0/s1600/german-refugees-from-koenigsburg-to-pillau-february-1945-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmB_tIVGwhsLb83cjvM9dfifen_h5Hl26FNSlVbbzeoFM4E5RY9V17yVw7KQ2TnYoGjAUhCozwHPsMXpZY-ikLV0ByFALb1dMKz02scW1hqxgCre2qzhebqjPHyGuA90jcPntLUrzrR0/s320/german-refugees-from-koenigsburg-to-pillau-february-1945-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the trek<br />
(photo from the internet)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GdsqSuTO8LM/TWvmHuW2b7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/5UUdMWIB5VU/s1600/Image+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GdsqSuTO8LM/TWvmHuW2b7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/5UUdMWIB5VU/s320/Image+9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The house my grandparents left in the winter of Jan 1945<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"It was so cold on the journey, child. Snow lay thick on the ground. In the bitter wind that turned against us that January, my hair, face and hands turned to ice. We travelled alongside thousands of refugees, the roads and fields jam-packed with carts and horses and silently grieving people. When we got to Elbing we learned that the Russians had taken the city. We were afraid. We were surrounded by enemy soldiers. They weren't far from the Frisches Haff, the frozen lagoon your grandfather and I had to cross to try and get to safety. I was so hungry. I hadn't eaten for days, not even a coffee or a crust of bread. The snow was dirty, the edges of the fields lined with bloated corpses so I couldn't drink any melted water. Overturned prams lay by the wayside, the little babies inside frozen, lifeless. I remember looking at your grandfather and telling him that I wanted to lie down in the snow beside them, go to sleep forever. I thought it would be a painless passing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PuKgi8QBFZs/TYEpG20X6fI/AAAAAAAAASE/F_bNqMQyCLk/s1600/hist_trek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PuKgi8QBFZs/TYEpG20X6fI/AAAAAAAAASE/F_bNqMQyCLk/s320/hist_trek.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awful images along the way</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Your grandfather started to weep and shook his head no. He said he loved me too much to let me go. I cried too. Everything cherished was gone: our home in Guja, our friends, our beloved Trakehner horses, the sparkling lakes and rich land that had been tended to for so many generations before us.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXN8EQNCPrczn3ulgTUmvsWrsvdIN4rYW79ZooYxdijyCesQ1JiHjyJFLXicPAiU1GhQdWBmRlWFt8ROrXhX0Z5kD0x6a5wEs0JvYz7w4RurcQtySxSTFXEGr171Zl99KJbj4mKXN-VI/s1600/Horse+eating+out+of+Hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXN8EQNCPrczn3ulgTUmvsWrsvdIN4rYW79ZooYxdijyCesQ1JiHjyJFLXicPAiU1GhQdWBmRlWFt8ROrXhX0Z5kD0x6a5wEs0JvYz7w4RurcQtySxSTFXEGr171Zl99KJbj4mKXN-VI/s320/Horse+eating+out+of+Hand.jpg" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gone were the horses<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DY66qC1VyDE/UdxW63ggokI/AAAAAAAABo4/8rk_QFCkoLA/s1600/Farmhands+w%253AHay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DY66qC1VyDE/UdxW63ggokI/AAAAAAAABo4/8rk_QFCkoLA/s320/Farmhands+w%253AHay.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gone the land tended to by caring hands for generations<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gQZHzH1AoCo/UdxZYI634LI/AAAAAAAABpw/d-cXqm30TEI/s1600/Reeds%253ALake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gQZHzH1AoCo/UdxZYI634LI/AAAAAAAABpw/d-cXqm30TEI/s320/Reeds%253ALake.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No longer would my grandmother see the lakes at sunrise<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f33kpRYddJQ/UdxYQSfaaxI/AAAAAAAABpU/kCGlFzb9Nxs/s1600/Horse+harnessed+to+wood+wagon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f33kpRYddJQ/UdxYQSfaaxI/AAAAAAAABpU/kCGlFzb9Nxs/s320/Horse+harnessed+to+wood+wagon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The horse drawn wood wagons would remain empty<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I saw your grandfather reach into his pocket and pull out a tiny golden, leather-bound bible that your Aunt Clara had given him before we fled. He carried it with him all the time. He wanted me to read it but I couldn't. I was too weak and I didn't care much anymore about God. Still, it reminded me of The Lord's Prayer so I recited it to myself to keep my mind focused on other things. When I got to the part that says, <i>Give us this day our daily bread</i>, I looked up at the sky and started to rail at God. I shook my fist at Him, raging at the grey clouds above me. <i>"You said you would take care of us if we remembered this prayer, but you have forgotten your people! There is no food, no solace, only death. We're lost. Why don't you keep your promise dammit and help us!"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DEKdx658rQE/Udxaaxld0RI/AAAAAAAABqA/dEQgDRI1IqE/s1600/%25233+C+Aunt+Clara+at+her+tapestry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DEKdx658rQE/Udxaaxld0RI/AAAAAAAABqA/dEQgDRI1IqE/s320/%25233+C+Aunt+Clara+at+her+tapestry.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Clara who gave my grandfather the bible<br />
working on a tapestry in the garden before the war.<br />
She didn't make it to the west<br />
Photo (C) Gottlieb Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A short while later we came to a wood. I had to empty my bladder so I trudged into the forest to squat behind a bush. As I looked down, I saw the most amazing thing: a loaf of bread, half hidden in the snow and slightly gnawed on the top by a horse whose teeth had been unable to bite through the hard frozen mass. It was the turning point for me. Hugging the loaf to my chest, I fell to my knees and sobbed out thanks for this bread of life. I knew for certain that God had given me a sign. He had heard my prayer. He wasn't angry at my railing. Instead He restored my faith. From that moment on, I knew we would survive, no matter how treacherous the journey. So remember this story my child, when you grow older and, God forbid, you face hardship. There are miracles that happen, not just in holy places but in our lives. Whatever happens, hold fast to your faith. Don't be afraid to trust your unknown future to a known God."<br />
<br />
And planting a kiss on my forehead, she bent forward to let a beetle climb into the palm of her hand.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I_ZzL6qhljY/TZN1PLq7I9I/AAAAAAAAAZo/ayexY9wenzI/s1600/DSCF8420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I_ZzL6qhljY/TZN1PLq7I9I/AAAAAAAAAZo/ayexY9wenzI/s320/DSCF8420.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.christinematthai.com/Artwork/Welcome.html">Christine Matthai</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Until next time.<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
<br />
<br />Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-21019463012396720452013-06-24T14:17:00.001-07:002013-06-24T14:40:49.454-07:00The Big Apple, Shelter Island and MoreHi Everyone,<br />
<br />
I'm just back from a great trip to the Big Apple where I was invited to do a reading from my novel <a href="http://www.marinagottliebsarles.com/2011/07/new-excerpt-last-daughter-of-prussia.html">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a> at a wonderful literary venue called <a href="http://www.kgbbar.com/bar/">KGB Literary Bar</a>. It was a treat to read in New York (my old stomping grounds) with two other <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/user/73">Wild River Books</a> authors, the brilliant Joy Stocke who wrote Anatolian Days and Nights—A Love Affair with Turkey and the bright, shining Kim Nagy who read an excerpt from her soon-to-be published book The Triple Goddess Trials. I saw friends that I haven't seen in 20 odd years along with many faces I don't know.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vP-WvBwXvz8/UchRRdGR92I/AAAAAAAABmQ/KJ7aMuKdOwY/s1600/Me+at+KGB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vP-WvBwXvz8/UchRRdGR92I/AAAAAAAABmQ/KJ7aMuKdOwY/s320/Me+at+KGB.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me reading from The Last Daughter of Prussia<br />
at the KGB Literary Bar in New York City.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmCdYgJAnoicZ7_ZgS3j0qcksMyvpCIBJXQeIQ-pwVP2GQ_hTqRzZYBYlGXZI-vl9xwNd7v3oxy0HeZYWmqF9rcNEOI_scXkxQueC29L3k92g7trSjqnzlq2INRhlz-DIWibRN53vzQY/s1600/Kim+Reading+KGB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmCdYgJAnoicZ7_ZgS3j0qcksMyvpCIBJXQeIQ-pwVP2GQ_hTqRzZYBYlGXZI-vl9xwNd7v3oxy0HeZYWmqF9rcNEOI_scXkxQueC29L3k92g7trSjqnzlq2INRhlz-DIWibRN53vzQY/s320/Kim+Reading+KGB.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Kim Nagy of Wild River books reading about her <br />
imagined encounter with VirginiaWoolf at the Strand bookstore.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
From NYC on to New Jersey — a great event at Waterlilies restaurant with fine food, sangria and enlightening conversations.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bLX_jGaYF88/UchUYa6-8BI/AAAAAAAABms/ZGqZYhSL8uU/s1600/Waterlilies+Kim+and+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bLX_jGaYF88/UchUYa6-8BI/AAAAAAAABms/ZGqZYhSL8uU/s320/Waterlilies+Kim+and+Me.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kim Nagy of Wild River Books and me after setting<br />
up the book table at Waterlilies in NJ.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qi376AQcJOw/UchWzY61y1I/AAAAAAAABm8/Ij43oamCAdw/s1600/Waterlilies+Rest.+NJ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qi376AQcJOw/UchWzY61y1I/AAAAAAAABm8/Ij43oamCAdw/s320/Waterlilies+Rest.+NJ.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great evening with interesting discussions<br />
and heartfelt connections.<br />
Thank you everyone for coming.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://shelterislandchamber.org/">Shelter Island, NY</a> was next on the tour. What a gorgeous place. I had the great pleasure of being invited to speak at the <a href="http://northfork.patch.com/listings/shelter-island-public-library">Shelter Island Public Library</a>. Denise DePaolo is the Library Director there. She was so warm and supportive. After I read, the evening turned to deep discussions about family stories that have been held in silence for many years, stories that need telling so that healing can happen. Several courageous audience members shared fascinating and traumatic experiences about their families, allowing tremendous honesty to fill the room. What an honor for me to be present to such heartfelt openings. This is my prayer for The Last Daughter of Prussia—that untold stories be told and held in compassion, that the hearts and souls of people in both present, past and future generations find peace and comfort, and that greater healing and understanding evolve in our world.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfCzC7k9hpJtRIO7xASns-9xb0XGvP2TpBTQwvSUr79tVta30vwgh3TS829rwyeo7CTWSFZ9qgm3hxT1os4-9MTD7NJRe0I2kXqNEKwXXNpnHCkyUIqCIxQqwhQx82HMUI0cooHsrgw4g/s1600/me+and+Denise.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfCzC7k9hpJtRIO7xASns-9xb0XGvP2TpBTQwvSUr79tVta30vwgh3TS829rwyeo7CTWSFZ9qgm3hxT1os4-9MTD7NJRe0I2kXqNEKwXXNpnHCkyUIqCIxQqwhQx82HMUI0cooHsrgw4g/s320/me+and+Denise.jpeg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with Denise DePaolo at the <br />
Island Public Library.Shelter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Saturday we took the cool ferry ride back to the mainland where I spoke with the director of the legendary <a href="http://www.easthamptonlibrary.org/">East Hampton Library</a>. It is one amazing home for books! It smells of history, wisdom, new and old books and I could have stayed there all day. I have been invited to speak there on Sept 21st, 2013 at an event which I look forward to with great enthusiasm.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZd9mNCcPpDCSVoLps3T_MR3y6FO6UYRRrQMBx2LRG7ecIMNHVOeC3ex6Py1HJ1Pp707hC2utIYGfEXNPA8UANApWJNA1YLSQMGYjk3tN-mqKO7RtKq4YSa4RfhitDQiajSjU3M9cMATk/s1600/Kim+EH+Library.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZd9mNCcPpDCSVoLps3T_MR3y6FO6UYRRrQMBx2LRG7ecIMNHVOeC3ex6Py1HJ1Pp707hC2utIYGfEXNPA8UANApWJNA1YLSQMGYjk3tN-mqKO7RtKq4YSa4RfhitDQiajSjU3M9cMATk/s320/Kim+EH+Library.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend, publisher, editor, PR person extraordinaire<br />
Kim Nagy of Wild River Books <br />
at the the beautiful East Hampton Library.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m-SZOSlFfjM/Uch_jjsLlWI/AAAAAAAABng/3BfeaCz75vk/s1600/peekabooEHLibrary.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m-SZOSlFfjM/Uch_jjsLlWI/AAAAAAAABng/3BfeaCz75vk/s320/peekabooEHLibrary.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing Peek-a-boo at the Library with Christine Matthäi,<br />
my dear friend and "might as well be sister" for many years.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lastly, a gorgeous evening book signing at Dering Harbor Real Estate, with champagne and friends— a lovely party thrown for The Last Daughter of Prussia by my sweet friend Christine Matthäi.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HWSZC86T0_9K5GMpS1zPvHxclsOY6aVTrRoNSky0OYg_G5bVR3lGWfkKgHsHWOfQU5gpyGSu0DiFBLQjwXSTXCxpBa6ILLQ_sgwjbNTKqQCAqqVY2HY80IVqQ_5om2K9qBBQ8Nx7mhU/s1600/Jenny+Mik+Dering+Harbour.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HWSZC86T0_9K5GMpS1zPvHxclsOY6aVTrRoNSky0OYg_G5bVR3lGWfkKgHsHWOfQU5gpyGSu0DiFBLQjwXSTXCxpBa6ILLQ_sgwjbNTKqQCAqqVY2HY80IVqQ_5om2K9qBBQ8Nx7mhU/s320/Jenny+Mik+Dering+Harbour.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our table for The Last Daughter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k5ux8QWOK_U/Ucin52G_sVI/AAAAAAAABoA/pgWE-PdReII/s1600/Chris:Jack:Jenny:Mik.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k5ux8QWOK_U/Ucin52G_sVI/AAAAAAAABoA/pgWE-PdReII/s320/Chris:Jack:Jenny:Mik.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TkU9JDAUMts/UcioStQ78YI/AAAAAAAABoI/ftwwjZqVJZE/s1600/Kim+Nagy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TkU9JDAUMts/UcioStQ78YI/AAAAAAAABoI/ftwwjZqVJZE/s320/Kim+Nagy.JPG" width="279" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dear friend, great mentor, <br />
drive-me-everywhere publisher and advisor Kim Nagy.<br />
She has been so kind and generous with her time, smarts and skills<br />
I can't thank her enough.<br />
We have a great dog and pony show!<br />
(Photo Courtesy Christine Matthäi)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm back home again. It's good to see my beautiful little family. They are so supportive when I go away and all the cooking and food shopping grinds to a halt and they are left to fend for themselves.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuo83PVkD4TIaeNte279XwzrLIuuYCvWS3uQWs9VcjagoYiwDAMLApkft0v85pzHFo0BMQ_zdy8o49asEav_m0mifOgrQT0d2Rg2ik5_6dB_nNAnuVPzXoEqEll6AYqC88vajTX2QgmZ8/s1600/IMG_7456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuo83PVkD4TIaeNte279XwzrLIuuYCvWS3uQWs9VcjagoYiwDAMLApkft0v85pzHFo0BMQ_zdy8o49asEav_m0mifOgrQT0d2Rg2ik5_6dB_nNAnuVPzXoEqEll6AYqC88vajTX2QgmZ8/s320/IMG_7456.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here they are my two Real Estate boys:<br />
James Sarles: my husband<br />
Nikolai Sarles: my son —both of<br />
Coldwell Banker/James Sarles Realty Freeport Bahamas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And now I'm off for a swim in what I call God's Pool!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwhWgsmCo4RT0-hcMfNrUuQxHsbJrJ_kz6hL9VvTzuBy_hikOmPA8dOx0kTdH6UJnUPMlb7XPX2HeVzh-3tfZsCJMx39UarYMephx1ddu8y5eY9xLSunuO7iiQWn7ThwG-ITOOztmZBc/s1600/C-God's+Pool.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwhWgsmCo4RT0-hcMfNrUuQxHsbJrJ_kz6hL9VvTzuBy_hikOmPA8dOx0kTdH6UJnUPMlb7XPX2HeVzh-3tfZsCJMx39UarYMephx1ddu8y5eY9xLSunuO7iiQWn7ThwG-ITOOztmZBc/s320/C-God's+Pool.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Ocean.<br />
(Photo Courtesy Christine Matthäi)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Until next time,<br />
<br />
— Marina Gottlieb SarlesMarina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-33358220722396576772013-05-08T12:46:00.000-07:002013-05-08T17:02:41.106-07:00Moths, Myths and Storytelling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fWVctJAHA0Y/UYmEZ_AaPII/AAAAAAAABlM/3BnmH6bDScc/s1600/417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fWVctJAHA0Y/UYmEZ_AaPII/AAAAAAAABlM/3BnmH6bDScc/s320/417.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
A few weeks back I was invited to speak at a Ladies Book Club hosted by my friend Penny Ettinger here in Freeport, Grand Bahama. As we were chatting one of the women said, "Look, there's a moth in Penny's house."<br />
<br />
Now, in the Bahamas, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ascalapha_odorata">Black Witch Moth</a>s such as the one you see in the photo above, are locally known as Money Moths and Bahamian folklore says that if one lands on you or on your door and stays there for a while you will come into money. (Lucky for my friend Penny! Reminds me of that song, Pennies from Heaven!)<br />
<br />
In Jamaica the same moth is called a Duppy Bat and is seen as the embodiment of a soul not at rest. Hawaiian Black Witch Moth mythology, though associated with death, has a happier note in that if a loved one has died, the moth is said to be an embodiment of the person's soul returning to say goodbye. There are even places in Mexico, where people joke that if one flies over your head, you'll lose your hair.<br />
<br />
I like the Bahamian and Hawaiian legends. That's why you see me holding <a href="http://www.marinagottliebsarles.com/2011/06/prologue-to-last-daughter-of-prussia.html">The Last Daughter of Prussia </a>up to the noteworthy moth. As I stood there I said a prayer for all the people and Trakehner horses who died in East Prussia on the Great Trek during WW2. Hopefully, through writing my book and bringing their untold story to light their souls will find peace. And if the Hawaiian myth holds water and someone did come back to say goodbye, then I know my grandmother's spirit was right there on Penny's door wishing me well and thanking me for completing the task she called me to so many years ago when I first began my writing journey. Lastly, what author wouldn't want their newly released novel to benefit from a good luck legend that promotes prosperity and success? So, yes, I confess I was wishing for that too.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ncXUKZjQ6Vk/TTiSHpyI8uI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0VHUIk9mblo/s1600/vonsd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ncXUKZjQ6Vk/TTiSHpyI8uI/AAAAAAAAAMw/0VHUIk9mblo/s320/vonsd.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandmother, Edith von Sanden-Guja<br />
who came to me repeatedly in my dreams<br />
and called me to the task<br />
of writing The Last Daughter of Prussia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In conclusion, I want to say that stories—especially old stories, myths and folklores—are crucial to our lives, our society. They strengthen the bonds and values of our cultural communities, our world communities. They preserve elements of history and wisdom for future generations. They must be kept alive. It is a necessary measure now to transcribe them before they fade into nothingness. For without stories who are we?<br />
<br />
Deep in my heart and on a more personal level, I also believe that every family has a story. However, if the story is too traumatic or shameful, if it remains a secret or taboo in the ancestral bones, it can have an unwanted effect on all the generations—past, present and future. The dead won't rest in peace until their story is compassionately brought into resonance with the collective field and the living, unconscious of this exclusion may carry unresolved issues into their present day lives without ever knowing why, while acting out in unhealthy ways. For this reason, I believe that every story must be told in order for healing to occur. No tribe, no person, animal, insect or living earthly thing should be excluded.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9deSjPlBojU/UYqdPQ0PQhI/AAAAAAAABlc/ixdRbJpEaUQ/s1600/RKBKIKTKXK1KLK6KZKD0AQBKGKUK0KPKGQB02Q9K0KPK8QJ04KAKVQ1K5K1KMKF0GKVK4KDKVQVK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9deSjPlBojU/UYqdPQ0PQhI/AAAAAAAABlc/ixdRbJpEaUQ/s1600/RKBKIKTKXK1KLK6KZKD0AQBKGKUK0KPKGQB02Q9K0KPK8QJ04KAKVQ1K5K1KMKF0GKVK4KDKVQVK.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Until next time...<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb SarlesMarina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-80131617624796226002013-04-29T09:25:00.002-07:002013-04-29T11:09:50.354-07:00Back from an Awesome Book Tour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbrA29tjujS0LkIfAwTJ7VRS1IAGXKBodtYwAWOb9IBW6Q9jRUNzCUjFIxrXAl5DZQSpELth1qtO7dqgEwihwatzkg8pTHtsB5NNAIjesFk-p06hEYAas8alJykas0qUYQpz2rIo8DR0/s1600/Princeton+Me+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbrA29tjujS0LkIfAwTJ7VRS1IAGXKBodtYwAWOb9IBW6Q9jRUNzCUjFIxrXAl5DZQSpELth1qtO7dqgEwihwatzkg8pTHtsB5NNAIjesFk-p06hEYAas8alJykas0qUYQpz2rIo8DR0/s320/Princeton+Me+4.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling like a true author now—getting ready for<br />
a signing at <a href="http://store-locator.barnesandnoble.com/store/2646">Barnes & Noble in Princeton.</a><br />
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Hi Everyone,<br />
<br />
I just came back from my first official book tour in New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware. It was rich, exciting and fun and although it left me falling into bed totally exhausted at night, I LOVED every minute of it. I met wonderful people with whom I had lively discussions and in-depth conversations—some had never heard of the Great Trek out of East Prussia and were fascinated by that untold story of WW2, while others I spoke to came from the area and lived through that frightening time, escaping over the ice as my heroine and grandparents did.<br />
<br />
My publicist took advantage of every second on the road, cramming in a full schedule of book signings at big bookstores such as Barnes & Noble and smaller ones too. She presented me and my novel at hosted events, private parties, radio interviews, book clubs and wherever she could find an open ear. Whew! What a whirlwind!<br />
<br />
Although a novel has many words, I still think a picture can be worth a thousand of them, so I hope you don't mind if I share the journey with you via photos.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G_mIrODTNXk/UX285wKSSGI/AAAAAAAABhQ/LpIdgdqF2sE/s1600/Me+signing+Sandy+%2521%2521+6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G_mIrODTNXk/UX285wKSSGI/AAAAAAAABhQ/LpIdgdqF2sE/s320/Me+signing+Sandy+%2521%2521+6.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kick-off!<br />
This very first event was held at my amazingly generous<br />
friend—Sandy Fox's beautiful home in Medford, New Jersey.<br />
Her daughter Sarah is a wonderful chef who served the most delightful tidbits - <br />
pea-soup in tiny tasteful glasses,<br />
finely barbecued roast beef kebabs, and so much more.<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEB4aHbLJpgOZDYqbj6eJ1I5j8eFBV30VWNMpx56dbGoSdQMTPmKm768P_1QBwn9HA6GNRNa5Hh7uGG922robbBWXLMF2PiTkeVvNqLxgpf31rc4jOIAbB2adhdLYwS3o2pkDMY-lZYp4/s1600/Gloria+Sandy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEB4aHbLJpgOZDYqbj6eJ1I5j8eFBV30VWNMpx56dbGoSdQMTPmKm768P_1QBwn9HA6GNRNa5Hh7uGG922robbBWXLMF2PiTkeVvNqLxgpf31rc4jOIAbB2adhdLYwS3o2pkDMY-lZYp4/s320/Gloria+Sandy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My long-time friend Gloria Pearlstein who drove up <br />
from MD with her husband Rich.<br />
We've travelled many roads together<br />
on the path of transformation.<br />
I'm so thrilled she was there along with my soul sister Sandy Fox <br />
to to support me at the very start.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DFHF6GzZoRI/UX6PEk5c_jI/AAAAAAAABho/iN-Zb7FreNo/s1600/Marlton+B&N+Tim+Karenne!!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DFHF6GzZoRI/UX6PEk5c_jI/AAAAAAAABho/iN-Zb7FreNo/s320/Marlton+B&N+Tim+Karenne!!.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Sandy's house to the Barnes & Noble in Marlton.<br />
The gentleman holding the book is Tim Ogline,<br />
my extraordinary book cover designer !<br />
The lady in green is Karenne Snow—<br />
Community Relations Manager and a real sweetheart.<br />
And that lovely little lady on the far left<br />
is my amazing publicist/publisher, Kim Nagy. <br />
Honest to goodness, she drove me everywhere!<br />
Bahamians don't like driving on the right side of the road!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GcepmVEO7ZY/UX6Q5uQXYgI/AAAAAAAABh0/vB011RxWHAQ/s1600/Princeton+Me+!!3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GcepmVEO7ZY/UX6Q5uQXYgI/AAAAAAAABh0/vB011RxWHAQ/s320/Princeton+Me+!!3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me talking about The Last Daughter in Princeton<br />
at the Barnes and Noble.<br />
I wish I had a pic of the Community Relations Manager<br />
Nagla Badr-Erdogan. Not only is she strikingly beautiful<br />
but helpful and kind beyond words.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J1IRgIQpnRA/UX6Sn9Sa9aI/AAAAAAAABiE/R5JeIYR7F2k/s1600/Lamberville+Joy!!Books3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J1IRgIQpnRA/UX6Sn9Sa9aI/AAAAAAAABiE/R5JeIYR7F2k/s320/Lamberville+Joy!!Books3.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <a href="http://www.nj.com/hunterdon-county-democrat/index.ssf/2013/04/bank_of_princeton_to_host_loca.html">Bank of Princeton Lambertville </a><br />
hosted an amazing event for The Last Daughter, <br />
thanks to the kind efforts of the gorgeous <br />
Marianne Rosato Romano.<br />
The woman you see there is my publisher <br />
Joy Stocke of Wild River Books<br />
standing beside the book table manned by Julian<br />
of the <a href="http://www.farleysbookshop.com/">Farley's BookShop, New Hop</a>e<br />
We sold a lot of books that day!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GPSewePk-G8/UX27rFC8ZJI/AAAAAAAABg4/amn5P-z7Jb4/s1600/Bank+of+Princeton+Kim+intro%253AMe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GPSewePk-G8/UX27rFC8ZJI/AAAAAAAABg4/amn5P-z7Jb4/s320/Bank+of+Princeton+Kim+intro%253AMe.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're still at the Bank of Princeton here.<br />
Kim Nagy my publicist is standing and introducing<br />
me just before I give a reading.<br />
What a beautiful event and what a great turn out of<br />
interesting people.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9_y_D8AH3Oc/UX6XmorCGoI/AAAAAAAABiY/u64f-pyotZ0/s1600/Me+Frenchtown1!!!.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9_y_D8AH3Oc/UX6XmorCGoI/AAAAAAAABiY/u64f-pyotZ0/s320/Me+Frenchtown1!!!.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Book Garden in Frenchtown, NJ.<br />
What a splendid afternoon.<br />
Robert Rando and Caroline Scutt are the owners.<br />
They have created a virtual oasis of peace, beauty<br />
and excellent books!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-abvB-iXrhuY/UX6YuxTrjJI/AAAAAAAABik/u5nR55oGJz0/s1600/Joy%253Ame+Caroline+Frenchtown%2521%2521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-abvB-iXrhuY/UX6YuxTrjJI/AAAAAAAABik/u5nR55oGJz0/s320/Joy%253Ame+Caroline+Frenchtown%2521%2521.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bookgarden.biz/">The Book Garden in Frenchtown, NJ</a><br />
Three women who have all written books.<br />
Myself on the left with The Last Daughter.<br />
In the center, Caroline Scutt—Owner of the bookstore <br />
and author of<a href="http://www.examiner.com/article/some-girls-helps-teens-avoid-the-pitfalls-of-youth"> Some Girls</a>— a great book <br />
which helps teens face the pitfalls of youth <br />
and grapples with the topic of<br />
unwed pregnancy.<br />
On the right is my friend and publisher, Joy Stocke<br />
who is also the author of <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/Interview/Memoir/Joy-E.-Stocke/Anatolian-Days-and-Nights/Leesha-Lentz">Anatolian Days and Nights</a><br />
—a book about her love affair with Turkey.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGCuSnMW3B3gTMuKpsaewT7SkVAMss9lo8rDNJLkjSJZagdcI_87-UHfopmPtxT8p8ms5DP2XY0s_Dx7unghDiWR-v1WmQF-V3leXEkdEPrA6pLLBCbihAjzF_jl4CKCGTJfV2-hBlBc/s1600/In+The+Green+Room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGCuSnMW3B3gTMuKpsaewT7SkVAMss9lo8rDNJLkjSJZagdcI_87-UHfopmPtxT8p8ms5DP2XY0s_Dx7unghDiWR-v1WmQF-V3leXEkdEPrA6pLLBCbihAjzF_jl4CKCGTJfV2-hBlBc/s320/In+The+Green+Room.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So...here we are with the Radio Talk Show Hosts<br />
Rob Bell and Vinnie Verderosa<br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/In-The-Green-Room-With-Rob-And-The-Vinnys/129126423849115">In The Green Room</a>.<br />
The show was interesting mix of discussions<br />
ranging from The Boston Marathon Bombing and peoples' rights<br />
to The Last Daughter and the stories that have remained unspoken <br />
because people in that era felt they had no right to talk.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYGic_BLXTxyMfXouV5qKUPlxyItiw6NT7xxC0yvOImRpBa2H78CR6_sZ8BAHv-KCjeoqIjs8InED9uITKHvHGQafR4VVe1TakNBmvHJf4N7bD-brtbDGFTTPaaRrIlgo7NARfRYIhLps/s1600/Wilmington+Me:Joyce!!.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYGic_BLXTxyMfXouV5qKUPlxyItiw6NT7xxC0yvOImRpBa2H78CR6_sZ8BAHv-KCjeoqIjs8InED9uITKHvHGQafR4VVe1TakNBmvHJf4N7bD-brtbDGFTTPaaRrIlgo7NARfRYIhLps/s320/Wilmington+Me:Joyce!!.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <a href="http://store-locator.barnesandnoble.com/store/2949">Wilmington Barnes & Noble in Delaware</a> was fantastic.<br />
Here I am with my amazing helpers and friends <br />
Joyce Belmonte and Cornelia Elsaesser.<br />
This was just before the crown arrived.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vC-rS8JFZts/UX6hiAJleOI/AAAAAAAABjQ/gNFYQjbGAdc/s1600/Wilmington+Me+signing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vC-rS8JFZts/UX6hiAJleOI/AAAAAAAABjQ/gNFYQjbGAdc/s320/Wilmington+Me+signing.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much fun signing and talking to people<br />
who were interested in The Last Daughter's story.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gv7VsFOKbeE/UX6iCLI1y_I/AAAAAAAABjY/JVlKDM43Kr8/s1600/Wilmington+Me+Manfred+2!!.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gv7VsFOKbeE/UX6iCLI1y_I/AAAAAAAABjY/JVlKDM43Kr8/s320/Wilmington+Me+Manfred+2!!.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me and a gentleman named Manfred who was born<br />
in East Prussia and who lived in a town called Tilsit<br />
(where Tilsiter cheese comes from).<br />
Tilsit is only a short distance to the north of Guja—<br />
the estate that my grandparents <br />
Walter and Edith von Sanden owned.<br />
Manfred was very young when the Russian Army<br />
arrived and like my family, he too escaped over the ice.<br />
It was such a pleasure talking with him <br />
and finding out about his story.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-akhemN2iukc/UX6kDl9QWhI/AAAAAAAABjo/AA_4gZsFs4o/s1600/Wilmington+Me+Binnie!!.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-akhemN2iukc/UX6kDl9QWhI/AAAAAAAABjo/AA_4gZsFs4o/s320/Wilmington+Me+Binnie!!.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I am again with an elegant gentleman named Binnie.<br />
Binnie loves The Last Daughter of Prussia and that makes me proud<br />
because he reads a lot and knows so much about history!<br />
He's an American Englishman who was in<br />
Germany as blond -blue-eyed youngster <br />
right at the beginning of the war.<br />
While we talked, he told me how the Germans he was with <br />
would stand him on a table and try to make him say Heil Hitler.<br />
Even then as boy he would not utter the words.<br />
Instead he said Heil Roosevelt!<br />
I love that story!</td></tr>
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Okay everyone, almost at the end. I have a ton of photos but I want to keep moving on.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yn2JtxaUnHM/UX6mXT7Q0II/AAAAAAAABj8/1zhvAcSOixY/s1600/TheBookSwap+John+Martosella+Sr..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yn2JtxaUnHM/UX6mXT7Q0II/AAAAAAAABj8/1zhvAcSOixY/s320/TheBookSwap+John+Martosella+Sr..jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Martosella Sr. of <a href="http://www.bookswapcafe.com/">The Book Swap</a> in Haddonfield, NJ<br />
Such a sweet man and great book store! <br />
I have to say I think Haddonfield is a gorgeous town.<br />
And the shopping! Wow.<br />
Luckily I didn't have enough time to<br />
spend all my husband's money!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL40obezzydwm9ZF2KPvEqb4wtm2RLk5f0iYeEOfgNswAih6MTXYcYxaUpmsubEhUGih3xb2NVu9PiioyjLVtyK1kaZAEpLdi0noy-YACAOdX-GtEltt_rpbrFQrB_mD2rsIpxwJx7fqU/s1600/Haddonfield+BookClub+!!2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL40obezzydwm9ZF2KPvEqb4wtm2RLk5f0iYeEOfgNswAih6MTXYcYxaUpmsubEhUGih3xb2NVu9PiioyjLVtyK1kaZAEpLdi0noy-YACAOdX-GtEltt_rpbrFQrB_mD2rsIpxwJx7fqU/s320/Haddonfield+BookClub+!!2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After The Book Swap signing I was invited to a fabulous<br />
Ladies Book Club in Haddonfield.<br />
I was so honored to meet these women,<br />
and discuss The Last Daughter in person, <br />
hear their questions and discover their reactions <br />
to various components of the novel.<br />
I must confess I LOVE talking at Book Clubs.<br />
It's so relaxed and yet serious points come to light.<br />
Well...okay not only serious points but it seems <br />
the sex scenes get their fair share of discussion too.<br />
And we always have a good laugh.<br />
These ladies were wonderful.<br />
On the bottom left is Cheryl Squadrito,<br />
my PR go to at <a href="http://www.mediafriendlypr.com/">Media Friendly</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o5hko8sBL9Y/UX6rZfbb7nI/AAAAAAAABkc/VI6n439nQj8/s1600/+Kim+&+Mik+Martine's.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o5hko8sBL9Y/UX6rZfbb7nI/AAAAAAAABkc/VI6n439nQj8/s320/+Kim+&+Mik+Martine's.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A well deserved break after the whirlwind!<br />
Kim Nagy and me at <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g53315-d462877-Reviews-Martine_s_Restaurant-New_Hope_Pennsylvania.html">Martine's River House.</a><br />
What a restaurant—amazing food. Yay!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjarOGRLgG5XLTf6BRvTsxGnFbl7hqE4qGpuKunyo4RUf-eYBwjcA7Ai7pq6eq0rS_UhRxbE6kJ1ujRUyM7Je8NshZAIW7Ej4dWvrOo3ZFNYMxNO9iz577_93z7tU5xSseqQ6n7gA6FGSk/s1600/Robin+V+Schwoyer+Pic+of+Book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjarOGRLgG5XLTf6BRvTsxGnFbl7hqE4qGpuKunyo4RUf-eYBwjcA7Ai7pq6eq0rS_UhRxbE6kJ1ujRUyM7Je8NshZAIW7Ej4dWvrOo3ZFNYMxNO9iz577_93z7tU5xSseqQ6n7gA6FGSk/s320/Robin+V+Schwoyer+Pic+of+Book.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we are at the end.<br />
This photo was taken by a reader<br />
Robin V Schwoyer whom I'll quote<br />
"A serene setting for resting and reading.<br />
Marina Gottlieb Sarles' book,<br />
The Last Daughter of Prussia is a powerful story <br />
told with grace and beauty of a time of pain,<br />
brutality and loss in the midst of love and courage."<br />
Thank you for this Robin.</td></tr>
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My thanks to everyone who helped make this book tour so meaningful for me. Thanks to my readers and all those who support The Last Daughter.<br />
<br />
<br />
Until next time.<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb SarlesMarina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-50755947725254255542013-04-06T07:10:00.000-07:002013-04-06T10:46:05.374-07:00Recent Interview for The Last Daughter<br />
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Last night I had the pleasure of being interviewed by <a href="http://wellnesswithelsie.com/meet-elsie/">Elsie Kerns</a> a wonderful advocate in the field of empowerment and holistic healing. A wellness educator, Elsie attended (as did I) The Barbara Brennan School of Healing and The Center for Intentional Living—an in-depth experiential learning community that explores the interface of the psychological and the sacred.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5dEe_Rxzk6c/TTiSCk87KKI/AAAAAAAAAMw/Cc3ZyNesJiY/s1600/flucht_im_schnee_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5dEe_Rxzk6c/TTiSCk87KKI/AAAAAAAAAMw/Cc3ZyNesJiY/s320/flucht_im_schnee_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Great Trek out of East Prussia at the end of WW2</td></tr>
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You may ask what healing has to do with my WW2 novel, The Last Daughter of Prussia. I would answer "a lot." I might be "putting myself out there" as the saying goes, but truthfully I feel this book was guided from the start. In the interview I talk about how, in my meditations, I often heard a compelling voice that urged me to write. I didn't know what the subject would be, but then in a string of synchronistic occurrences and in what I almost would call an epiphany, I realized I was being called on a soul level to bring to light a dark, untold chapter in German history—one that involved my family and one that lies hushed in the bones of the East Prussian people. Every family has a story, but sometimes if the story is too traumatic or shameful it remains a secret. Secrets affect all generations both past and future. The dead often can't rest in peace and the living, if they don't know about the secrets, can carry unresolved issues into their lives. Elsie Kerns and I talked about these things in the interview and how telling untold stories can heal and liberate.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeV2btwIPfVfOYn61_Dj1RpZ_i7JAhikOQgzdl2L_9Z6yyKqgClYh6VqLaQhUq8u5iD3uPTDC_Q3iECpIckwV54vzZgl21Y9uc54HQvSjvXBY5X27cR5oGsuqNS5RM-MUGz_32jD68_M/s1600/Grandparents+in+Boat.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZeV2btwIPfVfOYn61_Dj1RpZ_i7JAhikOQgzdl2L_9Z6yyKqgClYh6VqLaQhUq8u5iD3uPTDC_Q3iECpIckwV54vzZgl21Y9uc54HQvSjvXBY5X27cR5oGsuqNS5RM-MUGz_32jD68_M/s320/Grandparents+in+Boat.jpeg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandparents, <a href="http://www.ostpreussen.net/ostpreussen/orte.php?bericht=155">Walter and Edith von Sanden</a> who <br />
survived the trek and later called me to the task <br />
of writing the story of their vanished land.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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I hope that by writing The Last Daughter of Prussia I have broken the festering silence and taboos long held in the hearts of many East Prussian Germans who felt they could not speak about their suffering and loss in the face of Hitler's atrocities. I hope too that I have given them a voice and honored the horrendous journey so many of them embarked upon in those final winter months of the war.<br />
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The Last Daughter of Prussia can be ordered on</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Prussia-Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/dp/0983918821/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365255412&sr=1-1&keywords=the+last+daughter+of+prussia">AMAZON</a></div>
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in both Hard Copy and Kindle Edition</div>
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<b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;"><a href="http://tinyurl.com/bnuyyyk"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 14pt;">http://tinyurl.com/bnuyyy</span></span></a></b> </div>
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Here's the link to the interview once more. </div>
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When you open it there will be slides that depict East Prussia</div>
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and that time during the war. </div>
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It takes a moment for the black screen to change </div>
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and for the slides to come up</div>
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so please be patient.</div>
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Until next time,<br />
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Marina Gottlieb SarlesMarina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-37902062478013460152013-03-26T17:41:00.000-07:002013-03-27T08:07:14.442-07:00You Tube Video—The Last Daughter of Prussia<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKNHn3QK8uA/UVHP-4L4SCI/AAAAAAAABgk/Mp15EWWTTz8/s1600/DSCF8547+copy+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKNHn3QK8uA/UVHP-4L4SCI/AAAAAAAABgk/Mp15EWWTTz8/s320/DSCF8547+copy+copy.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the beach with my book,<br />
getting ready for a shoot with Dave Mackey.<br />
(Photo: Courtesy <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/Interview/light-of-innocence/christine-matthai/nagy-kim/Apr-2010">Christine Matthäi</a>) </td></tr>
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<br />
Hi Everyone,<br />
<br />
The other day I sat down in front of a camera belonging to my talented friend, Dave Mackey of <a href="http://www.bahamaslocal.com/showlisting/15543/Mackey_Media.html">Mackeymedia Productions</a> who asked me a number of questions about my novel, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Prussia-Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/dp/0983918821/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1364317065&sr=8-1&keywords=the+last+daughter+of+prussia">The Last Daughter of Prussia.</a><br />
<br />
The session turned out to be 3 hours of in-depth questions and answers about my book and the writing process. The footage was then sent to my publicists and the production staff at <a href="http://www.wildriverconsultingandpublishing.com/wrb.html">Wild River Consulting and Publishing</a>. They took this footage—which will have other uses in the future—edited it down and combined it with images from East Prussia and family photo archives to produce a 30 second promotional video which is now part of my media kit. I thought you blog readers might like a first glimpse. If you do, click on the link below:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VfYEJ1ILx9U">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VfYEJ1ILx9U</a></span><br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
<br />
Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
<br />
PS The book can be ordered on Amazon. Click <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_17?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=the+last+daughter+of+prussia&sprefix=The+Last+Daughter%2Cstripbooks%2C212">here </a>for the link:<br />
<br />Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-19174527365082552442013-03-22T20:24:00.000-07:002013-03-22T20:24:29.842-07:00American Women's Club meets The Last Daughter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N4lPeB2mlZM/UUx4oRTQGmI/AAAAAAAABf4/bjwKqqg2z-E/s1600/DSC03934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N4lPeB2mlZM/UUx4oRTQGmI/AAAAAAAABf4/bjwKqqg2z-E/s320/DSC03934.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American Women's Club Grand Bahama.</td></tr>
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Last week I had the privilege of speaking to the <a href="http://www.gbawc.org/">American Women's Club</a>—a wonderful group of friendly expatriate women who live in Grand Bahama and have decided to make Freeport their home. The organization represents an interesting cross-section of educated and charitable women from all over the USA and looking around I saw several Canadians, Brits and Bahamians as well. From what I've read, every nationality is welcome.<br />
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My hat goes off to the work they do in our community and to the objectives they hold—namely to bring women together, and to develop a friendly and social-minded spirit amongst each other while promoting and organizing activities in educational, artistic, literary and philanthropic fields. Women of all ages, interests and experiences belong to the club and I could sense that they are all united by a dedication to community improvement through volunteer service. So it was an honor to be allowed to speak to them in the literary field about my new book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Prussia-Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/dp/0983918821">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EvCxtxTfwUA/UUyK4nJGixI/AAAAAAAABgE/H116hH8p1hE/s1600/DSC03915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EvCxtxTfwUA/UUyK4nJGixI/AAAAAAAABgE/H116hH8p1hE/s320/DSC03915.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laurie Tuchel, the program co-ordinator and me</td></tr>
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My friend, Laurie Tuchel, who is also the program co-ordinator, set up the talk in a super relaxed format. We sat at a table where she asked pertinent questions about the characters and my writing process. I have to say it was fun and more relaxing to be "in contact and conversation" with an interviewer than to stand and talk—although I enjoy that too. Many of the women present had read the book and as an author it was heartwarming to hear live feedback from readers who normally are anonymous entities. Their faces came to life and when they spoke of their identification with the novel and the characters, I was deeply touched. As an author that is what I hope to accomplish.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hRkr5FnmSVI/UQBRnBGotXI/AAAAAAAABeU/CJtdHtHR6t0/s1600/LDOP.frontcover.4WEB.copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hRkr5FnmSVI/UQBRnBGotXI/AAAAAAAABeU/CJtdHtHR6t0/s320/LDOP.frontcover.4WEB.copy.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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So thank you to the American Women's Club of Grand Bahama. You created a fabulously safe space for me to warm up and practice speaking before my <a href="http://publishingguru.blogspot.com/2009/09/how-does-book-tour-work.html">Book Tour</a> starts in April. I will be on the East Coast first—New York, Philadelphia, New Jersey, Shelter Island, The Hamptons, and other cities—the dates are being finalized by my publisher <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/user/73">Wild River Books</a>. The West Coast is next.<br />
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'Til next time,<br />
<br />
Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
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<br />Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-6952998053093752022013-02-17T06:40:00.000-08:002013-03-18T19:14:15.801-07:00Nassau Tribune Interview /Last Daughter<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hi Everyone,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've been away for a bit but now I'm back as a bionic woman with a new titanium/ceramic hip which was implanted in Berlin four weeks ago. Just before I left I was interviewed by The Tribune in Nassau. I wanted to share some of these questions and answers that you might find interesting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px;">Question: Can you give us a brief on what " The Last Daughter of Prussia" book is about? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/FICTION/The-Last-Daughter-of-Prussia/Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/2011-May">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a></i> is a historical novel based on a tragic moment in history that has not often been recounted. It is the story of the largest mass exodus ever recorded yet the one least </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">discussed.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> This evacuation took place in East Prussia at the end of WW2 and claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of innocent people. It is a love story between two unlikely young people, a bold and beautiful East Prussian woman and a gifted <a href="http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10005219">Romani Gypsy</a> doctor. The backdrop is the bitter winter of 1944/45 as the Soviet Army, intent on retribution, is advancing on Germany systematically raping and killing women and children. In this chaos the lovers are torn apart—Joshi is captured by Nazis and taken to a concentration camp while Manya who knows she must flee the Russians or die at their hands embarks on the The Great Trek out of her homeland, riding her prized <a href="http://www.trakehners-international.com/history/index.html">Trakehner</a> stallion, Aztec. She travels along the only escape route open—a dangerous, frozen lagoon pitted with craters made by Russian bombers where many people fall to their icy d</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">eaths. Will the lovers ever be reunited? Well...for that you must read the book. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px; text-align: justify;">Question: Where did the inspiration for writing the book stem from?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"> I wrote the </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;">The Last Daughter</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"> </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;">of Prussia</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"> because I wanted to shed light on an untold moment in history. Hundreds of thousands of civilians died on the <a href="http://majorityrights.com/weblog/comments/the_trek_out_of_east_prussia_1945/">Great Trek</a>. Their deaths could have been avoided if Hitler had not forbidden them to leave under pain of death, calling them traitors if they did. When the people finally defied his orders it was too late. The Russians were on their doorstep. It is thought nearly 3 million women were raped by Soviet soldiers— many to death. In a land where the corpses of genocide were piled high and the atrocities Hitler committed could never be made good, these women kept their silence. Others who survived the trek were too ashamed to talk about their suffering and the loss of their home, East Prussia—a land which vanished after the war. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;">My grandparents Edith and Walter von Sanden were part of this trek. The diaries they kept along this journey and the stories they passed down to me were the inspiration for this book. I wrote </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;">The Last Daughter</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"> for them. I wrote for the women, children and old people whose voices have remained hushed for the past 60 years. By making my hero, Joshi, a Romani Gypsy, I wrote for a people whose fate is a forgotten holocaust. Over half the Romani population in Nazi-occupied Europe was exterminated by the same methods employed for murdering the Jews, yet again this fact is rarely mentioned. I wanted their voices to be heard and not forgotten. Lastly, I wrote for the Trakehner Horses. Theirs is one of the most moving animal stories ever. For me their bravery and loyalty to their human families is as compelling as the love story between Joshi and Manya. They were the true heroes of the Trek. While the bullets and bombs fell, they saved thousands of people by hauling carts through giant snow drifts, across the frozen ice, and over rutted fields where automobiles could not travel. They didn’t care about race or cultural differences, only survival. They gave their lives for their human families. </span></span><br />
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<span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px;"><span style="color: blue;">Question: </span></span><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span">Do you have a specific writing style? </span><span class="ecxApple-style-span">Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I don't know if I can say that I have a specific writiing style but my desire has always been to convey a sense of truth, honesty and emotion in what I put to paper. I want my audience to imagine the story they are reading—be in it, so to speak. I want them to be involved with the characters and the pull of the narrative as it draws them forward. I try to write in my own true voice.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">parents, Dr Ejnar Gottlieb and Owanta Gottlieb von Sanden —both medical practitioners who immigrated to The Bahamas from Germany in the late 1940's— were fantastic storytellers. My interest in writing was piqued by them, by their humor, courage, sensitivity and stories about life and people and the war. My grandfather <a href="http://www.ostpreussen.de/uploads/media/Sanden-Guja__Edith_und_Walter_von.pdf">Walter von Sanden</a> was a well-known writer in East Prussia, and my mother, Owanta, wrote her amazing life story in her autobiography called </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Angel Stand by Me</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. So, writing is in my blood.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Question: Is there a specific message in "</span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px;">The Last Daughter of Prussia" book</span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> that you want readers to grasp?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i>
<i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Last Daughter of Prussia</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> is a story of hope and faith and the indomitable will that humans beings bring forth in order to survive. For me the real message is one of compassion. You see I believe that everyone’s story must be told. Every side must be heard. Only when compassion is felt for all beings, for all slain tribes and for every unjustly slaughtered animal can true healing occur in the heart of humanity.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Question: Where is your book available for purchase?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Actually the publication
date of <i>The Last Daughter of Prussia</i> in the USA is just coming
up in April 2013. We did a pre-publication launch here in The Bahamas
to start the buzz and let my community read it first. What this means
is until April the book can be pre-ordered on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Last-Daughter-Prussia-Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/dp/0983918821/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1359567080&sr=1-1&keywords=the+last+daughter+of+prussia"><span style="color: #0000f6;">amazon</span></a> Here in The Bahamas, books can
be purchased at <a href="http://www.nagb.org.bs/">The National Art Gallery of The Bahamas</a> gift shop, Nassau.
You can also purchase it at Unexso and <a href="http://www.thegardenofthegroves.com/">Garden of The Groves</a> gift shops
in Freeport and Monkey's Uncle in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abaco_Islands">Marsh Harbour, Abaco.</a></span></div>
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Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-55102707334328545662013-01-23T13:15:00.000-08:002013-01-23T13:15:07.800-08:00The Last Daughter of Prussia—Celebrating the Book Launch!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v2L06QFW2F0/UQBN2IU70jI/AAAAAAAABbs/Q6XW_j4ZgYQ/s1600/LDOP.Bk.Lnch.Collage1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v2L06QFW2F0/UQBN2IU70jI/AAAAAAAABbs/Q6XW_j4ZgYQ/s400/LDOP.Bk.Lnch.Collage1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size: 16pt;">I am so grateful to all the
family and friends who came out recently to </span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="http://www.pelicanbayhotel.com/"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The Pelican Bay
Hotel's Canal House</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">
on Grand Bahama Island to help me introduce my new historical novel—<i>The Last
Daughter of Prussia</i>.</span><!--EndFragment-->
</div>
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size: 16pt;">To share this moment with
my family, dear friends, </span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="http://www.wildriverconsultingandpublishing.com/wrb.html"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">publishers</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">,
book lovers, and a supportive community was a very special moment. Here are
some photos from the evening (photos by </span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="http://www.christinematthai.com/"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Christine Matthä</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">i):</span><!--EndFragment-->
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">Thank you <b>all</b> for being there and
for the wonderful reception and reviews the book is receiving. </span><i></i></div>
<div style="display: inline !important; text-align: left;">
<i><i><span style="font-size: 16pt;">The Tribune</span></i><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> featured an interview recently that you can
read </span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.tribune242.com/news/2013/jan/08/epic-story-suspense-love-and-survival/"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">here</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">.
And <i>The Freeport News</i> also covered the launch </span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://freeport.nassauguardian.net/social_community/304559584562387.php"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">here</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">.
Many thanks to Dave Mackey and </span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.thebahamasweekly.com/"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">The Bahamas Weekly.com</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> for taping my remarks during the evening and making them available </span><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.thebahamasweekly.com/publish/arts-and-culture/VIDEO_Bahamian_Author_Marina_Gottlieb_Sarles_launches_new_novel_The_Last_Daughter_of_Prussia25780.shtml"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">here</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">. </span></i></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">The book is available in Grand Bahama at </span><a href="http://www.unexso.com/"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-size: 16pt;">UNEXSO</span></a><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> (Underwater
Explorer's Society) gift shop, at </span><a href="http://www.thegardenofthegroves.com/"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-size: 16pt;">The Garden of The
Groves</span></a><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> gift shop, and at </span><a href="http://www.sarlesrealty.com/"><span style="color: #0000f5; font-size: 16pt;">Coldwell Banker James Sarles Realty</span></a><span style="font-size: 16pt;">. <i>The
Last Daughter of Prussia</i> will be released worldwide in April 2013.</span></div>
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Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-68879515944580798862012-11-20T18:02:00.000-08:002012-11-20T18:02:17.754-08:00Is This a Dream?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h-R9n6Vr6A4/UKpo0a63UXI/AAAAAAAABXc/Kzk3Yrvgn-o/s1600/DSC03707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h-R9n6Vr6A4/UKpo0a63UXI/AAAAAAAABXc/Kzk3Yrvgn-o/s320/DSC03707.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behind the podium about to give a talk on my novel<br />
<a href="http://www.marinagottlieb-sarles.com/2011/03/those-of-you-who-keep-asking-to-know.html">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a>.<br />
I really feel as if this is a dream.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm standing behind a podium looking at a group of women—members of The <a href="http://www.gbawc.org/">Canadian Women's Club</a>—who are listening to what I'm about to say. I'm a little nervous because in my dream this is the first time ever that I am going to talk about my novel in public. I introduce myself and begin to tell the story of The Last Daughter of Prussia, why I wrote it and so forth. Reaching down, I pick up the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advance_copy">Advanced Reader Copy</a> of the book itself, holding it up for my audience to see. The beautiful <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trakehner">Trakehner</a> horse whom I have named Shambhala canters out of the cover on finely chiseled legs, shaking her silky mane and looking at my audience with dark liquid eyes that tell a story of survival, love and loyalty.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9P-4J9MhHG8/UKpoAwbk-fI/AAAAAAAABXM/t_jyOnl10TM/s1600/DSC03711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9P-4J9MhHG8/UKpoAwbk-fI/AAAAAAAABXM/t_jyOnl10TM/s320/DSC03711.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The book in my hands. Is this really happening?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I swallow and smile and suddenly it dawns on me.... this is not a dream! This book I'm holding is real. It's the result of many years of research, writing, re-writing and editing. Blood, sweat and tears if I were to use those well-worn words. Its pages have taken me on inner and outer journeys far too vast and deep to even attempt to explain in the few minutes I have to speak. Those journeys were like lifetimes.<br />
<br />
I pause reflecting on how it all started—the night I woke up at 3am and was drawn by invisible threads to my computer where I entered a hitherto unknown word into the the search engine and suddenly saw a black and white picture of a long column of horses pulling carts full of sad and desperate looking grandfathers, grandmothers, women and children through snow drifts that had mounted up on a frozen lagoon. The novel was conceived right there. And in that weak moment, I decided I would write about The Great Trek—the tragic <a href="http://majorityrights.com/weblog/comments/the_trek_out_of_east_prussia_1945/">evacuation out of East Prussia</a> which took place at the end of <a href="http://ww2db.com/battle_spec.php?battle_id=197">WW2</a>. I had no idea where my journey would take me. While making the flash decision I didn't even remember that my grandparents <a href="http://www.ostpreussen.net/ostpreussen/orte.php?bericht=155">Walter and Edith von Sanden</a> were part of that treacherous journey. I just knew—like we sometime know things— that it was my job to tell this story.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzK4ipVrxV5ZMeDC90PNfzB7IrJXgx7t1D4ppVgssAd2ITz19xrN_i3tsYoc8_O4mSSkbtCSUqP_9lloklcAnIfN1wfJUh3AvsIHOUa5dxMvH7-MgrEazc3jTXzb0wSbKCCHqvySFnG4/s1600/Flucht.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzK4ipVrxV5ZMeDC90PNfzB7IrJXgx7t1D4ppVgssAd2ITz19xrN_i3tsYoc8_O4mSSkbtCSUqP_9lloklcAnIfN1wfJUh3AvsIHOUa5dxMvH7-MgrEazc3jTXzb0wSbKCCHqvySFnG4/s400/Flucht.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The photo that caught my eye in the dark of night <br />
and evoked my<br />
decision to write The Last Daughter<br />
(the photo is of the internet)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I look up. Oh God, how long was I quiet? My audience is waiting for me to carry on. I return to the moment and read an excerpt. When I finish the room is quiet. A voice says, "Can you read more?" That touches me and I end my talk by thanking everyone for listening, for being there with their hearts to hear a piece of this dark corner of history, one that that cost the lives of many innocent people yet was filled with hope and faith, love and the indomitable spirit of human beings.<br />
<br />
I see a woman rise and come to the podium. She takes my hand and kisses it. There are tears in her eyes. Mine too. She was just a child on The Great Trek. She thanks me for writing about her story, about this chapter that has remained hushed in the bones of Germans too ashamed to speak of their own plight because of the atrocities committed by Hitler.<br />
"When can I get your book?" she asks.<br />
I tell her that I will be launching it soon and give her the date.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dzOXfRalbV8/UKpzrmCvyBI/AAAAAAAABX0/-8q3dgamXFY/s1600/Save.The.Date.LDOP.12.18.2012.A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="342" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dzOXfRalbV8/UKpzrmCvyBI/AAAAAAAABX0/-8q3dgamXFY/s400/Save.The.Date.LDOP.12.18.2012.A.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Save The Date announcement for The Last Daughter of Prussia.<br />
I cannot tell you how grateful I am to have a friend in my life like my<br />
talented inspiring graphic designer friend Paula Boyd Farrington who put<br />
this announcement together in a blink of an eye.<br />
Well it seems that way butI know how hard she works,<br />
how committed to perfection she is.<br />
A detailed invitation will follow shortly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I return to my seat. Everyone is clapping. It is a reality now. That actually was me standing up, talking, holding The Last Daughter in my hands. The hardback copies of the book are being printed as I write this blog and will be out in December. Wow.<br />
<br />
I look back at this blog that you, my readers, have so faithfully followed. This is the 56th post. In German there is a saying <i>Gut Ding braucht Weile.</i> It means good things take time. It's true. It's taken a long time but now the time is here.<br />
<br />
Til my next post... and hope to see you at the book signing .<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb SarlesMarina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-24661092354987839982012-10-12T10:36:00.000-07:002012-10-12T12:18:24.542-07:00Final Countdown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Hi Everyone,<br />
<br />
<div>
I'm down to the final elements that make up the cover of The Last Daughter of Prussia. Here's how the process of publishing my novel is unfolding for me. We're so close. I'm waiting in excited anticipation for the final countdown.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The front cover of my SOON-TO-BE-PUBLISHED novel.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I am so excited!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I wanted to tell you that the ARC's are coming out next week.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I didn't actually know what this acronym stood for but now I do!</span><br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advance_copy"><span style="font-size: small;">Advanced Reader Copy</span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">So, the process goes like this...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">As a marketing tool, publishers </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">(in this case my wonderful publisher <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/user/73">WILD RIVER BOOKS</a>)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">provide free copies of new titles to </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">reviewers, booksellers, journalists and even celebrities.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">This happens before the book is printed for mass distribution.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">When a celebrity reader or journalist gives an endorsement,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">that's added to the dust-cover and other promotional items.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Reader books are normally distributed three to six months</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">before the book is officially released to reviewers, bookstores,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">magazines and in some cases libraries.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">As you can see on the spine, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The Last Daughter will be officially released in April 2013.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> However, for all my Bahamian friends and followers</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">we are planning an advance publication launch and booksigning </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">right here in Freeport, Grand Bahama BEFORE Christmas.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Time, Date and Venue to be announced.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">So please stay tuned.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">For my friends who aren't here in the Bahamas,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">maybe you'll come down for the launch and </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">some R&R in the sea and sun.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SCiZOSRE-cw/UHhHhkApahI/AAAAAAAABVs/qSygMCqzvZE/s1600/LD.Endorsements.Only.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SCiZOSRE-cw/UHhHhkApahI/AAAAAAAABVs/qSygMCqzvZE/s400/LD.Endorsements.Only.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Here are <span style="color: #0000f6;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Endorsement">endorsements</a></span> that I have already
obtained and that have been used for the back cover. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I thank <a href="http://patriciaclough.com/pages/index.php">Patricia Clough,</a> awesome author whose fabulous book and account </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">of The
Great Trek–the evacuation of East Prussia–stayed </span><span style="font-size: small;">on my desk </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">throughout my entire
writing journey of The Last Daughter of Prussia.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> I wrote to her hardly
expecting an endorsement because she is so busy and well-known, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">yet she was kind enough to read my novel and write a beautiful comment.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> Denise
Rutzou is the president of the Australian <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trakehner">Trakehner</a> Society. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">She is such
a doll for writing this touching endorsement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> I feel like we struck up a
friendship via e-mail </span><span style="font-size: small;">and I've told her</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> I want to visit her in Australia one
day to meet her and her beloved Trakehners. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">And then there is <a href="http://www.radoc.net/radoc.php?doc=art_k_interview_cornell_hancock_interview&lang=en&presentation=true">Ian Hancock</a>. What a learned man! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">He has brought huge awareness to the
Romanies and their little understood culture. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">He has represented
the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romani_people">Romani people</a> at the United Nations and </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">served as a member of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Holocaust_Memorial_Museum">U.S. HolocaustMemorial Council</a> under President Bill Clinton. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">I never in my wildest
dreams imagined he would write an endorsement, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">but again he took the time
and I am ever so grateful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> Perhaps many established authors remember what it
was like when they first started writing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> I have other amazing
endorsements too. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trakehnens-Pferde-Erhard-Schulte/dp/3861274086">Erhard Schulte</a>, the Trakehner expert in Germany </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">who never tired of answer my questions.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"> <a href="http://w.martin-opitz-bibliothek.de/de/aktuell__show/kalender/221">Dr. Christoph Hinkelmann, </a></span><span style="color: #1e1e1e; font-size: small;"><a href="http://w.martin-opitz-bibliothek.de/de/aktuell__show/kalender/221">East Prussian Museum</a>, Lüneburg, Germany</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1e1e1e; font-size: small;"> who took the time
out of his busy schedule to read the novel, give super advice and
comment.</span><br />
<span style="color: #1e1e1e; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">Anne Hampson, Bestselling Romance Novelist </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">who is also my dear
friend and mentor. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">The publisher has said that their beautiful comments will
definitely be used in the marketing of my book. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;">THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size: small;">And here you have the blurb
that gives you<br />a taste of what the book is about <br />and hopefully whets
your appetite to read more.<!--EndFragment-->
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Until next time...<br />
<br />
Marina Gottlieb Sarles</div>
Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-84332049258572293672012-09-22T08:08:00.000-07:002012-09-28T13:31:21.334-07:00A Timely TweakWow! How time flies! I realize that it has been quite some time since my last post. Just to fill you in, I was in Berlin recovering from arthroscopic hip surgery. All went well. My surgeon is a fabulous doc and amazing friend who considers food and wine therapy to be almost as important as physical therapy.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cygoxnGohig/UFiitJpzgGI/AAAAAAAABQI/2v2FHKxUDVs/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cygoxnGohig/UFiitJpzgGI/AAAAAAAABQI/2v2FHKxUDVs/s400/photo.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in the hospital in Berlin <br />
with my wonderful friend and surgeon, Prof. Dr. Wolfgang Noack.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway, I didn't have a chance to write, but here I am, now and I want to share what happened just before I left for Europe. On the morning of my departure I took a last look at the cover of my upcoming book, The Last Daughter of Prussia. On a strong whim of intuition, I sent it off to the expert on Trakehners, <a href="http://www.amazon.de/Trakehnens-Pferde-Eine-Rasseportrait-Trakehners/dp/3861274086">Erhard Schulte</a>, who is also the author of Trakehnens Pferde, Cadmos Verlag. For those of you who have been following this blog you know that <a href="http://www.americantrakehner.com/the%20breed/history.htm">Trakehners</a> are beautiful horses whose lineage stems from <a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/176767/East-Prussia">East Prussia</a>. Two of the main characters in my novel, Aztec and Shambhala, belong to that fantastic breed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjtl7fL9YYLi3_xvSGYlXRYCO3X-DrOgl5xnKTOWStb1LO3sjBWyVVw-BZdFxppzX9gtWWHcTnwtjCz8cexLxWiQHb0BirgaWheReaOz8JiP3W6dOF1iMDmlwqrTCCNcF8B2GsNqD3Uqc/s1600/26+stallion+own+barn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjtl7fL9YYLi3_xvSGYlXRYCO3X-DrOgl5xnKTOWStb1LO3sjBWyVVw-BZdFxppzX9gtWWHcTnwtjCz8cexLxWiQHb0BirgaWheReaOz8JiP3W6dOF1iMDmlwqrTCCNcF8B2GsNqD3Uqc/s400/26+stallion+own+barn.jpg" width="328" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A stallion in Trakehnen.<br />
Stallions there were treated like royalty,<br />
housed in their own beautiful barns like the one in this photo. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8dpCH-7eQyg1y-NSd7uTdsazv0qW17eWctU9Wo2zl38M2Ftk6zMAHi6OiDpCZN4-Y44HKdWAQwMK3fS3bsHSa2c31E-1czLQI8Pq08RbNF6t3BcA0IFh40__b6A11rzoi-5KQn2D_L4/s1600/24+Stallions+Rearing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8dpCH-7eQyg1y-NSd7uTdsazv0qW17eWctU9Wo2zl38M2Ftk6zMAHi6OiDpCZN4-Y44HKdWAQwMK3fS3bsHSa2c31E-1czLQI8Pq08RbNF6t3BcA0IFh40__b6A11rzoi-5KQn2D_L4/s320/24+Stallions+Rearing.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stallions in the meadow<br />
Taken from the book —<br />
Von Memel bis Trakehnen, Rautenberg Verlag</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Although the horse on the cover (see below) was striking, I knew in my heart it wasn't a Trakehner. This bothered me. After all, <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/FICTION/The-Last-Daughter-of-Prussia/Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/2011-May">The Last Daughter of Prussia </a>is about Trakehners and their struggle for survival as they flee over the ice in the last winter of WW2 with the avenging Soviet Army right behind them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBBQDq_rBIhBbDvwlX1QJmvMtS2LoxeCKrs3tZKiE8fwPwuomF2agaRgP-4_9XulvoeTTnck2fs8QxI2_Rh49YNzQtrxp24fCSB1zm-u8lnsuYvpjM_FzR5t5FL8I7DfY90lcEwWFsyg/s1600/LDOP-frontcover-hires9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBBQDq_rBIhBbDvwlX1QJmvMtS2LoxeCKrs3tZKiE8fwPwuomF2agaRgP-4_9XulvoeTTnck2fs8QxI2_Rh49YNzQtrxp24fCSB1zm-u8lnsuYvpjM_FzR5t5FL8I7DfY90lcEwWFsyg/s400/LDOP-frontcover-hires9.jpeg" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the first cover. <br />
Though I think it is beautiful it was not accurate.<br />
The horse is a coldblooded horse.<br />
You can see that in the heavier tufted legs<br />
and the head that is not as defined and elegant as<br />
a Trakehner's head would be.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So... not to have a real Trakehner didn't feel right, especially as this book has been a labor of love and intense research. All through my writing of it I took pride in searching out details and references to historical information. I consulted with experts on subjects ranging from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nazi_concentration_camps">concentration camps</a>, <a href="http://www.radoc.net/radoc.php?doc=art_k_interview_cornell_hancock_interview&lang=en&presentation=true">Romanies</a>, <a href="http://poland1.wikispaces.com/Flora+and+fauna">fauna and flora</a>, to seafaring barges and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schichau-Werke">shipyards</a>. I talked with people who were on the trek and women who were raped along the way. I even visited <a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/176767/East-Prussia">East Prussia</a> (now Poland) twice, traveled to<a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_von_Sanden-Guja"> Guja</a> to find my grandparent's estate and spent time in the <a href="http://www.jewishgen.org/forgottenCamps/Camps/StutthofEng.html">Stutthof</a>—that ghastly prison where so many innocent people were murdered. I walked the beach along the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evacuation_of_East_Prussia">Nehrung</a> where amber cobbles drift up like honey-colored stars and stuck my Bahamian toes in the freezing <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baltic_Sea">Baltic Sea</a>, stopped to look across the<a href="http://uncensoredhistory.blogspot.com/2012_08_01_archive.html"> Frisches Haff</a> - the lagoon that was the only escape rouyte in winter, finally making my way to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolf's_Lair">Wolf's Lair</a>—Hitler's hidden headquarters where <a href="http://www.historynet.com/claus-von-stauffenberg-the-man-who-tried-to-kill-hitler.htm">von Stauffenberg</a> almost managed to assassinate him. I went on these journeys for the sheer purpose of discovery.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-un88c00vCOY/UFtCx7xfNMI/AAAAAAAABRQ/lnDkGoLFkys/s1600/C+Hitler's+Wolfschanze.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-un88c00vCOY/UFtCx7xfNMI/AAAAAAAABRQ/lnDkGoLFkys/s400/C+Hitler's+Wolfschanze.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hitler's Wolf'sschanze where Claus von Stauffenberg <br />
attempted to assassinate him.<br />
Hitler had trees planted on the buildings to disguise them from the air.<br />
It was a creepy place and so weird to think <br />
that he had walked the very same paths we were on.<br />
Photo (C) James Sarles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHDaaQL5Hl2exIbgnBpTKP-C4BvLTeRArT6XQ8d3Q5eJPsoB8V8YUT6HKn6hFZwIEqj7OnEaDT5HsQRbZGgC8y0OsBY9mEouUGQRgCvTW87sPA7iU3TBWLuK8NM82fJwmUlpI5BFZlH34/s1600/stutthof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHDaaQL5Hl2exIbgnBpTKP-C4BvLTeRArT6XQ8d3Q5eJPsoB8V8YUT6HKn6hFZwIEqj7OnEaDT5HsQRbZGgC8y0OsBY9mEouUGQRgCvTW87sPA7iU3TBWLuK8NM82fJwmUlpI5BFZlH34/s400/stutthof.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stutthof Concentration camp in winter<br />
(Photo-Property Stutthof Museum)<br />
I wrote an article about visiting this place in <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/SPOTLIGHT/Auschwitz-Stutthof-and-Remembrance/Marina-Gottlieb-Sarles/Feb-2010">Wild River Review</a><br />
It is a feeling that has never left me, one that haunts my memory and my heart.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTf5fmHzkwAuTGll-KFTDATkB_8xdd6052Cb7KDKNexN7utAJw_LwdpYRCTJDP-qW05uLyLU9S4GxzB9dmFDfswiAILebEQhBjIrOvI0bR7rll4lekgoyWql-qE_mTgipQm_d9qJFjVE/s1600/Road+Nehrung.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTf5fmHzkwAuTGll-KFTDATkB_8xdd6052Cb7KDKNexN7utAJw_LwdpYRCTJDP-qW05uLyLU9S4GxzB9dmFDfswiAILebEQhBjIrOvI0bR7rll4lekgoyWql-qE_mTgipQm_d9qJFjVE/s400/Road+Nehrung.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road along the Nehrung spit - the only way to Danzig.<br />
Millions fled on this icy road in winter to try and get to the west.<br />
Photo (C) James Sarles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2DuXNWCW9n_6NtKjOZc8Xvca5yRbLMHUKMZEus9lveO37Vlvh38sxqLQjThCLzOBRMOIyMMX4FY94M39Gruv7PqRUP5Z7kQ86kO8iSDmuHOODciFcahzHui4Zmyc6bb-usCrNmFy6b0/s1600/Frisches+Haff.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2DuXNWCW9n_6NtKjOZc8Xvca5yRbLMHUKMZEus9lveO37Vlvh38sxqLQjThCLzOBRMOIyMMX4FY94M39Gruv7PqRUP5Z7kQ86kO8iSDmuHOODciFcahzHui4Zmyc6bb-usCrNmFy6b0/s400/Frisches+Haff.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before reaching the road above, the weary refugees<br />
had to cross this lagoon—the Frisches Haff.<br />
It was frozen but pitted with large craters<br />
made by falling bombs, so many fell to their icy deaths<br />
Photo (C) James Sarles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VsoGIjWFAjg/UFtEbTuX6lI/AAAAAAAABRY/ssNVtSC9r-E/s1600/Me+Baltic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VsoGIjWFAjg/UFtEbTuX6lI/AAAAAAAABRY/ssNVtSC9r-E/s400/Me+Baltic.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me sticking my Bahamian toes into the icy Baltic Sea.<br />
Photos (C) James Saarles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After all this, how could I not have an accurate cover? And time was running out. The book was almost going to press. Besides my publisher had already signed off on the design. Five minutes before I left for the airport Erhard Schulte wrote back. He too felt the cover needed a real Trakehner. Oh my God, now what? Where would I find the right image in high resolution? Would my publisher agree? All these thoughts raced through my head as I flew over the Atlantic. They were still with me the next day when the sleep inducing needle was placed in my vein and I was wheeled into the operating room. When I woke up, my husband was standing by my bedside. The first thing I said was, "Jamie, we have to find the right horse!"<br />
<br />
That's what happens when you're consumed by a book you have written.<br />
<br />
So, right there he pulled out his computer and sat on my hospital bed. Although I was half asleep, we scoured the internet. The creative muses must have been with us because in a short time we found the perfect horse! Thankfully my publisher <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/user/73">Wild River Books </a>was wonderful. They could have easily said, "It's too late, live with it!" But they didn't. They are just as dedicated to detail as I am and they honored my input, pulling it all together in that very last minute. I love them. I thank my lucky stars too, for Erhard Schulte, because he spoke the truth and when he saw the new image he immediately wrote to say, "Now that is a noble and sensitive warmblooded Trakehner. One that suits your book!"<br />
<br />
Hallelujia!<br />
<br />
And so here it is... the timely tweak.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRhXIqBnjylwt65VkL1KozhaCkJPdaI_QHDbMF5gQlz2uTCjFTYNK5w1WSAPw7X-fjgk5nhFcm8_kZKIM3FzhN-R2xjrwl7vqcMNmQECwDwW4gpUkDia3v6t_msexV3OyqTyoW9s5xXZU/s1600/LDOP-frontcover-REV3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRhXIqBnjylwt65VkL1KozhaCkJPdaI_QHDbMF5gQlz2uTCjFTYNK5w1WSAPw7X-fjgk5nhFcm8_kZKIM3FzhN-R2xjrwl7vqcMNmQECwDwW4gpUkDia3v6t_msexV3OyqTyoW9s5xXZU/s400/LDOP-frontcover-REV3.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new cover of The Last Daughter of Prussia.<br />
Can you see the difference in the horse?<br />
This one is so full of expression, grace and power.<br />
I'm pleased.<br />
The book will be sold in the Bahamas starting in December .<br />
It will be in the USA in the Spring catalogue,<br />
for sale then in bigger outlets.<br />
Cover Design <a href="http://www.oglinedesign.com/">Tim Ogline</a><br />
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'Til next time,<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked, and may not be used without permission.</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(c) Privatbesi<wbr></wbr>tz Gottlieb Familie</span></b></span></span></span></span></div>
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Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-81652483772503761912012-07-15T13:03:00.000-07:002012-07-15T13:04:15.301-07:00Sharks, Novels and Nature<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-veNOhSJHXMo/UAMSFC6IpxI/AAAAAAAABO4/4PumFn84B10/s1600/Sharks+being+fed.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-veNOhSJHXMo/UAMSFC6IpxI/AAAAAAAABO4/4PumFn84B10/s400/Sharks+being+fed.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first shark dive</td></tr>
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Before writing this blog entry today I wondered if diving with sharks had anything to do with writing a novel. As I thought about it I realized quite emphatically that the two <b>are</b> connected. Here's why. The urge I felt to write <a href="http://www.marinagottlieb-sarles.com/2011/06/prologue-to-last-daughter-of-prussia.html">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a> was a powerful one. That same feeling accompanied me on the shark dive I dared to go on yesterday. Both experiences weren't necessarily comfortable initially, but they were compelling. They pushed my envelope and made me feel alive. Also, I am a great lover of nature—nature is where my cells breathe new life, where my being gets activated on all levels—spiritual, emotional and physical. Writing has the same effect on me.</div>
<br />
In researching The Last Daughter I traveled to wondrous places. I dug up old photographs of East Prussia's fauna, forests, lakes and animals. I even journeyed there on several occasions to find inspiration and drink in the beauty of giant oak trees, rolling meadows blazing blue with cornflowers and lakes dotted with wild swans. Underwater yesterday, with sharks swimming overhead and in front of me, I felt the same magical, if not childlike capacity to experience nature—only this time I saw the sea through the eyes of a shark—a creature that has probably elicited more fear in me than any other creature in the world (except cockroaches—and that's another story!) What most amazed and thrilled me was that even while the sharks bumped my shoulder or swam straight up to my face, I was not afraid. I loved it. I felt a movement inside me, a oneness with nature's magnificent creation.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--TgZ0Af7BsY/UAMUDD6-8II/AAAAAAAABPo/huGTqA5wZ6w/s1600/shark+large+1.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--TgZ0Af7BsY/UAMUDD6-8II/AAAAAAAABPo/huGTqA5wZ6w/s400/shark+large+1.tiff" width="400" /></a></div>
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Watching the shark handler, Cristina Zenato (who by the way is unbelievable and made the whole experience totally safe) I was struck by the connection that we human beings can have to all living things if we just have respect and allow that connection to happen. I must say that as I viewed this bonding concert between (wo)man and beast my emotions ran the gamut. One moment I was laughing bubbles of delight, the next, I was overcome with mask-fogging tears at the sheer magnificence and power of the sharks connecting with another human in such a profoundly sensitive way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mXns0lFh2Io/UAMS8Vj00mI/AAAAAAAABPg/NtInhdUi89c/s1600/Upclose+Shark+Trance.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mXns0lFh2Io/UAMS8Vj00mI/AAAAAAAABPg/NtInhdUi89c/s400/Upclose+Shark+Trance.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cristina Zenato and the<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caribbean_reef_shark"> reef shark </a>connecting.<br />
This is just before she puts the shark in a trancelike state <br />
and lifts her ( it was a female) into a vertical position<br />
If you're interested, check out this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WK2LpUoqX6A&feature=related">video of Cristina</a><br />
(Make sure you watch it to the end)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cY_Znx_Y6PI/UAMSylfac_I/AAAAAAAABPY/_5KxTF665vc/s1600/Shark+Vertical+.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cY_Znx_Y6PI/UAMSylfac_I/AAAAAAAABPY/_5KxTF665vc/s400/Shark+Vertical+.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OJXlWMxqui4/UAMSq3EMQXI/AAAAAAAABPQ/I_XMQdDYOFY/s1600/Shark+Kiss.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OJXlWMxqui4/UAMSq3EMQXI/AAAAAAAABPQ/I_XMQdDYOFY/s400/Shark+Kiss.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> A thank you kiss for the tender display of inter-connecting species.</td></tr>
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Watching I felt ALIVE. Isn't that what we all want on some level? Writing too makes me feel alive. Like nature it is a form of creation.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JgL-qLoiYKU/UAMSg7Im_AI/AAAAAAAABPI/0SxcQSpJCKc/s1600/mikki+shark+5.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JgL-qLoiYKU/UAMSg7Im_AI/AAAAAAAABPI/0SxcQSpJCKc/s400/mikki+shark+5.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me on the very left—in awe.</td></tr>
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In conclusion I want to say that what made the experience even more beautiful was the companionship (connection) of my husband Jamie and my two good friends, Elly Decter and Mike Morter. Together we shared the joy and excitement in rediscovering the mystery of the world we all live in. In writing don't we share the mysteries of the world we are creating? And isn't it in sharing that we all feel more alive?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Q4ebbSfNYY/UAMSa0RYPFI/AAAAAAAABPA/0gJwqQtmG2g/s1600/Mikki+and+Jamie+thumbs+up.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Q4ebbSfNYY/UAMSa0RYPFI/AAAAAAAABPA/0gJwqQtmG2g/s400/Mikki+and+Jamie+thumbs+up.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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Until next time...<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
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All photos are the property of <a href="http://www.unexso.com/">Unexso— Underwater Explorers Society</a>—Freeport, BahamasMarina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-41183508389429588322012-06-18T07:32:00.000-07:002012-06-18T07:32:36.981-07:00One More Glimpse<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfsgmRdcI6fKOts6NX4Su2tSCetKBGtRP8cBs9uWb-g-k7v_DfYJUl-kZi1E1pGtcZIujvg2X97gNYctDjo_3X2R97S3Ug5Nngul59QouuPfgfocYUkwXPnpG4ODLeAxFwkUX-rXrUm20/s1600/Image+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfsgmRdcI6fKOts6NX4Su2tSCetKBGtRP8cBs9uWb-g-k7v_DfYJUl-kZi1E1pGtcZIujvg2X97gNYctDjo_3X2R97S3Ug5Nngul59QouuPfgfocYUkwXPnpG4ODLeAxFwkUX-rXrUm20/s320/Image+13.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ingo the otter climbing up my grandfather's leg.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #2f4e49;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I just couldn't resist posting this poem after last week's blog. Every verse is so powerful in imagery. I feel as if I'm there with Seamus Heaney, watching, waiting, holding my breath for one more glimpse of that beautiful creature and then ahh... the sheer joy of seeing that freshened pelt, those unique footprints on the warm stones.</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #2f4e49; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16pt;">The Otter </span></b><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16pt;">by Seamus Heaney</span></b><span style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When you plunged<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The light of Tuscany wavered<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And swung through the pool<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From top to bottom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I loved your wet head and smashing crawl,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Surfacing and surfacing again<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This year and every year since.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I sat dry-throated on the warm stones.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You were beyond me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The mellowed clarities, the grape-deep air<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thinned and disappointed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thank God for the slow loadening,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I hold you now<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We are close and deep<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As the atmosphere on water.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My two hands are plumbed water.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You are my palpable, lithe<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Otter of memory<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the pool of the moment,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Turning to swim on your back,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Each silent, thigh-shaking kick<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Re-tilting the light,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Heaving the cool at your neck.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And suddenly you're out,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Back again, intent as ever,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Heavy and frisky in your freshened pelt,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Printing the stones.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cdmlNo8o-qk/T9YjBZtR3II/AAAAAAAABNA/0Ln50KlLuqs/s1600/Ingo+Pillow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cdmlNo8o-qk/T9YjBZtR3II/AAAAAAAABNA/0Ln50KlLuqs/s640/Ingo+Pillow.jpg" width="364" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ingo under my mother's pillow in Guja, East Prussia before the war.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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Until next time...<br />
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—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: normal;"><b>(c) All content and photos are the private property of the Gottlieb family, unless otherwise stated or linked, and may not be used without permission.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-13865258283478863762012-06-12T11:11:00.000-07:002012-06-12T11:11:36.195-07:00Odyssey of an Otter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuyqs7wdZQe-g3c9Nx2HZzf4_Smz582VILfYY3ZZxCsQyQIB-WsXatpej7hL3u_-vmQOb28p2LIXRLFz7H3LYPcYcJoAhJz-yMmsRcElDJKWIIU2E9ZpxYG2kd3DGLrEQG67ZN07UiY0/s1600/Ingo+at+Window%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuyqs7wdZQe-g3c9Nx2HZzf4_Smz582VILfYY3ZZxCsQyQIB-WsXatpej7hL3u_-vmQOb28p2LIXRLFz7H3LYPcYcJoAhJz-yMmsRcElDJKWIIU2E9ZpxYG2kd3DGLrEQG67ZN07UiY0/s320/Ingo+at+Window%2521.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandfather's pet otter Ingo looking through the window<br />
in <a href="http://www.ostpreussen.net/ostpreussen/orte.php?bericht=155">Guja, East Prussia</a> before WW2<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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Yesterday two dolphins dove under our anchored boat. The smaller of the two stayed in close proximity so I put on my mask and fins, slid into the water and swam toward it. What an adorable sight!. This bubbly little creature was doing somersaults on the sandy bottom in between playing with a gnarled branch, which it shook and tossed through the aqua colored water. When it saw me it stopped and swam closer, cocking it's head to look at me with that perpetual dolphin smile. Its demeanor, so playful and lively, reminded me of a character in my novel <i>The Last Daughter of Prussia</i>—an otter who splashes through my heroine's childhood memories with the same dolphin friskiness and zest for life as my newfound friend did yesterday.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kzqOxDnXk1k/T9Yi9iHPquI/AAAAAAAABM4/V-5a4mP_POM/s1600/Ingo+Lying+down.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="279" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kzqOxDnXk1k/T9Yi9iHPquI/AAAAAAAABM4/V-5a4mP_POM/s320/Ingo+Lying+down.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ingo in all his glory<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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The otter's name in my novel is Ingo and as you can see from the photos in this post, he really did exist. Some of my earliest childhood memories are of listening to my mother and my grandparents talk about their lively pet otter. They told stories of how he shared their home in East Prussia, splashing in the bathtub, eating from their table and generally creating both havoc and happiness wherever he went. There was always laughter in their voices when they spoke of him.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-32YQmX1WUmM/TsVVyXLARlI/AAAAAAAABBE/a4xCI18Mzkw/s1600/Ingo+Bath+tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-32YQmX1WUmM/TsVVyXLARlI/AAAAAAAABBE/a4xCI18Mzkw/s320/Ingo+Bath+tub.jpg" width="186" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ingo in my mother's bathtub<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGYJJUzKOXLPrWD4jScxaz9-GnxjuGFqaPYfCr72uE3-1dfHYXPe629BGkYq-opIBNYGHpwtHuGnYSW1W9asni8UuKzCQvB8JtS8DnNy-4mFVBcH3zxW2HdyO97bS96UJmycVDMysDCC0/s1600/Image+3+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGYJJUzKOXLPrWD4jScxaz9-GnxjuGFqaPYfCr72uE3-1dfHYXPe629BGkYq-opIBNYGHpwtHuGnYSW1W9asni8UuKzCQvB8JtS8DnNy-4mFVBcH3zxW2HdyO97bS96UJmycVDMysDCC0/s320/Image+3+%25283%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ingo at the breakfast table.<br />
Otters need to drink lots of water.<br />
Ingo, who was no exception, took the liberty of<br />
drinking out of anyone' cup when he was thirsty.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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In my mind, Ingo surfaces larger than life. Because of that I felt he belonged in my novel, so I wrote him in as a character—as the beloved pet otter of my heroine, Manya. The real Ingo was my grandfather, Walter von Sanden's prized pet and so intrigued was he by Ingo's personality that he wrote a delightful book called <i>Ingo—The Story of my Otter </i>in<i> </i>which he recounts his experiences with this playful, headstrong creature. The book was recently translated into Polish by Grazyana Czausz and re-published.<br />
* Side note: several weeks ago the East Prussian Museum put together an <a href="http://blog.ol-lg.de/?p=380">exhibition</a> in both Polish and German in Olsztyn (Allenstein) Poland about my grandfather's work. This touches me deeply because his work has returned home to the land he so deeply loved. Though East Prussia is now Poland the earth has not changed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwuTdR0s3hCJMsnzzW-QW0TDxTAjMBHPLd1p8TJnoR4-SApnRCHTiCQ_tmIHsv__XDKEIBXj0YQpyP0UYSbqN0hyphenhyphen6ZA6fqvKoqfry9OxEAqXcoR7-LooGSLJWX-GGF4qpSNYOWbjpbS4/s1600/Bronze+otter+sculpted+by+my+grandmother%252C+Edith+von+Sanden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwuTdR0s3hCJMsnzzW-QW0TDxTAjMBHPLd1p8TJnoR4-SApnRCHTiCQ_tmIHsv__XDKEIBXj0YQpyP0UYSbqN0hyphenhyphen6ZA6fqvKoqfry9OxEAqXcoR7-LooGSLJWX-GGF4qpSNYOWbjpbS4/s320/Bronze+otter+sculpted+by+my+grandmother%252C+Edith+von+Sanden.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ingo in bronze</td></tr>
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Just a little more about Ingo. My grandmother, Edith von Sanden—artist and poet—loved him so much that she sculpted him in bronze. She used to tell me how naughty he was, how he'd sneak into the milk shed and drink the milk from the metal milk cans. She'd laugh remembering how his love for raw eggs would drive him to the chicken coop where he'd whine beseechingly until a soft-hearted farmhand finally rolled him one.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDDfDKN57MdSBXbp13HsM_WetORjOlnrPld38zCvLU0oTrr-Gugx_hXdHJLfw521ZKLWNR18Pb0mVOSbwwcnf3AgsvEFrZHb7yitjhrLUuhIMALi6DhEJNa466E0dxx2doXXNxOuqtek/s1600/Ingo+w+Grossmutti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtDDfDKN57MdSBXbp13HsM_WetORjOlnrPld38zCvLU0oTrr-Gugx_hXdHJLfw521ZKLWNR18Pb0mVOSbwwcnf3AgsvEFrZHb7yitjhrLUuhIMALi6DhEJNa466E0dxx2doXXNxOuqtek/s320/Ingo+w+Grossmutti.jpg" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grossmutti and Ingo in Guja before the war<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_gKyRGq-JmI/T9ZtZWUXP6I/AAAAAAAABOk/idMM1_WvJaQ/s1600/C+Ingo+holding+egg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_gKyRGq-JmI/T9ZtZWUXP6I/AAAAAAAABOk/idMM1_WvJaQ/s320/C+Ingo+holding+egg.jpg" width="274" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ingo holding his precious egg bounty<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7NAndkEoq-g/T9ZuFvv77SI/AAAAAAAABOs/f4yHGNmTii4/s1600/C-Ingo+looking+around+door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7NAndkEoq-g/T9ZuFvv77SI/AAAAAAAABOs/f4yHGNmTii4/s320/C-Ingo+looking+around+door.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's Ingo sneaking into the milk shed<br />
for some milk. What a prankster he must have been,<br />
so full of life, so frisky and smart.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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Even though I never knew him, Ingo has a special place in my heart. I'm fortunate to have a bronze sculpture of him which sits on my cottage porch, high on a hill overlooking the turquoise Sea of Abaco in the Bahamas. How far he has come! His presence reminds me that pieces of the past do survive, and though people and animals may be displaced by the cruel hand of war, the stories of the soul are never lost.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xOn8w3IwxgQ/T9YlvCuFj-I/AAAAAAAABNU/o0ksuCPh9QI/s1600/b%253Aw+ingo+Abaco.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xOn8w3IwxgQ/T9YlvCuFj-I/AAAAAAAABNU/o0ksuCPh9QI/s320/b%253Aw+ingo+Abaco.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ingo contemplating the sea from my porch in Abaco, Bahamas<br />(Photo (C)<a href="http://www.christinematthai.com/Artwork/Welcome.html"> Christine Matthäi</a>)</td></tr>
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Gazing at the sleek contours of Ingo's body I cannot help but think of his odyssey from East Prussia to this New World. He represents the journey my mother made across the ocean, the trek my grandparents undertook over the ice in that final, bitter winter of WW2 when everything except life was lost. In some ways Ingo is also a symbol of my heritage, of the strength, and endurance it took to survive. And sometimes, when the setting sun warms his smooth head and a sparkle touches his eyes, I sense his playful spirit. Then, in my imagination, I plunge into the deep lakes and moving rivers of his forgotten world.<br />
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'Til next time,<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb Sarles<br />
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<br /></div>Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-73968495120760652162012-05-21T15:34:00.000-07:002012-05-21T15:35:09.545-07:00Casting Characters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MqhA8_WQOow/T7QAWoWSIZI/AAAAAAAABJ0/BKjIZuOA5Kc/s1600/C+P23+Dampfross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MqhA8_WQOow/T7QAWoWSIZI/AAAAAAAABJ0/BKjIZuOA5Kc/s320/C+P23+Dampfross.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.marinagottlieb-sarles.com/2011/06/prologue-to-last-daughter-of-prussia.html">The Last Daughter of Prussia</a> was inspired by writings and stories I gathered from my family, but there were also many images that breathed life, heart and substance into the novel. Along the way, in this blog, I have shared quite a number of photos with you. If it's true that a picture says a thousand words then I need not write as many today except perhaps to explain how certain images gave form to the storyline and the characters in it.</div>
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Let me start with some of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Character_(arts)">CHARACTERS</a> who evolved in my imagination as I researched old photos, diaries and books...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_7mRft5A6t8/T7UU-tKioFI/AAAAAAAABKA/nNugQWyGej4/s1600/Horse_Fetysz-_3big.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_7mRft5A6t8/T7UU-tKioFI/AAAAAAAABKA/nNugQWyGej4/s320/Horse_Fetysz-_3big.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
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It all began with this image of the famous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trakehner">Trakehner </a>Fetysz Ox.</div>
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<span id="goog_624822381"></span><a href="http://marionprincic.blogspot.com/2012/03/fetysz-ox.html?showComment=1337267277190#c3182510441084874287">Fetysz Ox</a><span id="goog_624822382"></span> was tragically shot by the invading Russian Army at the close of WW2.</div>
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However, because of him I started thinking about a story involving an adventurous woman who</div>
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wanted to save her beloved Trakehners from the same terrible fate.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SJVDRECseDI/TTiSHT31vxI/AAAAAAAAAMw/vFmfvZkVo1U/s1600/von+s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SJVDRECseDI/TTiSHT31vxI/AAAAAAAAAMw/vFmfvZkVo1U/s320/von+s.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I turned to my grandfather <a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_von_Sanden-Guja">Walter von Sanden's</a> books<br />
to find out more about what happened during the invasion.<br />
The story started to unfold in my mind as I realized my own family <br />
had lived through the nightmare of the Great Trek.<br />
In my book, the character <b>Baron von Falken</b><br />
has a great deal in common with my grandfather.<br />
I incorporated the story of his arrest by the Nazis into one of the chapters.<br />
The Nazis thought he was an accomplice<br />
to the July 20th assassination attempt on Hitler.<br />
(In my novel the baron wears the same green hunting jacket!)<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z-p-z_FCkoA/TWvmWSXTBFI/AAAAAAAAAMw/d60h7JsucXU/s1600/Image+38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z-p-z_FCkoA/TWvmWSXTBFI/AAAAAAAAAMw/d60h7JsucXU/s320/Image+38.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b> Blacksmith Helling</b> is a main character in the book<br />
and he is also a great hunter.<br />
This pic is actually of a man named Hellwig— the forester who lived<br />
on my grandparent's estate in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guja">Guja, East Prussia</a><br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NQ0zImOa7FA/T7O_iRO7U9I/AAAAAAAABJQ/fa_8WNDefMI/s1600/EvS+sculpting+a+cockerel+in+her+atalier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NQ0zImOa7FA/T7O_iRO7U9I/AAAAAAAABJQ/fa_8WNDefMI/s320/EvS+sculpting+a+cockerel+in+her+atalier.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <b>Baroness von Falken </b>plays a big role too.<br />
In The Last Daughter she is a sculptress<br />
with a difficult personality—moody and depressed.<br />
This pic is of my grandmother <a href="http://www.tier-bronzeplastiken.de/E_v_Sanden_Katalog.pdf">Edith von Sanden </a>in her art studio<br />
in Guja, East Prussia before the war.<br />
She really was an artist<br />
and though not nearly as complicated as my novel's baroness,<br />
for as long as I knew her, she walked with a definite air of melancholy.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHE2dJT1huiI83L0vM7q3T5BFmPPEhaLU5CIfoy0z_PTn4VIbr6Z40ASqWB8lqNzGRUxe3X8-LuQeHwGWBwWHUsHXw1WPHP7KkdbutUJhL4yjd3AAt4-8dGs4_21Y-LCUIl8gbBsSe0NQ/s1600/Owanta+Accordion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHE2dJT1huiI83L0vM7q3T5BFmPPEhaLU5CIfoy0z_PTn4VIbr6Z40ASqWB8lqNzGRUxe3X8-LuQeHwGWBwWHUsHXw1WPHP7KkdbutUJhL4yjd3AAt4-8dGs4_21Y-LCUIl8gbBsSe0NQ/s320/Owanta+Accordion.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Manya von Falken </b><br />
In the story, she is the bright, spirited horsewoman and heroine whose courage<br />
leads her family and her Trakehners on the dangerous trek.<br />
Much of her character is based on the strength and outspoken boldness<br />
that I saw in my own mother, <a href="http://tasteofgrandbahama.blogspot.com/2009/09/newsfrom-heart-of-grand-bahama.html">Owanta von Sanden</a> who is depicted in this photo.<br />
(Photo (C) Gottlieb Family)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x7EkQyX5lHA/TYk9yQmKWlI/AAAAAAAAATY/4YSb5kR8KBU/s1600/kstojka.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x7EkQyX5lHA/TYk9yQmKWlI/AAAAAAAAATY/4YSb5kR8KBU/s200/kstojka.gif" width="188" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Joshi Karas</b><br />
In my story, he is the son of Roma Gypsies.<br />
He is a musically gifted and educated hero.<br />
While researching information on Gypsies in the Third Reich, <br />
I came across this photo of <a href="http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/idcard.php?ModuleId=10006784">Karl Stojka</a> a gypsy<br />
who was deported to the Nazi camp in <a href="http://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10005189">Birkenau</a> along with thousands of<br />
other Gypsies, most of whom were gassed to death. Thankfully, he survived.<br />
I hope he didn't mind me using his likeness as an inspiration.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fWVulU3zSmU/T7PxXI0MbXI/AAAAAAAABJo/Gq9jDRbnFXU/s1600/C+P37+Shamballa%3f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fWVulU3zSmU/T7PxXI0MbXI/AAAAAAAABJo/Gq9jDRbnFXU/s320/C+P37+Shamballa%3f.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Shambhala</b><br />
The mare in the novel truly is a Last Daughter of Prussia.<br />
She is brave, enduring and loyal until the end.<br />
Her mission is to take her human family across the ice.<br />
Never once does she stop to consider whether those she struggles so hard<br />
to carry are German, Jewish, Gypsy or Russian.<br />
There is no prejudice in her.<br />
She is pure of heart and cares only about survival.<br />
The horse in his picture is actually a stallion (Pregel) <br />
but he has such a sensitive, intelligent face and<br />
when I see him I think of Shambhala.<br />
(The photo was taken from Erhard Schulte's fabulous book—<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trakehnens-Pferde-Erhard-Schulte/dp/3861274086">Trakehnens Pferde</a>.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NWZlrTNVhOY/TYEpE0GnHMI/AAAAAAAAARs/0srjfdG8AyI/s1600/flaneur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NWZlrTNVhOY/TYEpE0GnHMI/AAAAAAAAARs/0srjfdG8AyI/s1600/flaneur.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Aztec</b><br />
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is my Trakehner stallion hero. </div>
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Unlike Fetysz ox above who inspired the story, Aztec is jet black.</div>
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He is spirited and courageous beyond words<br />
and his role is pivotal in The Last Daughter of Prussia.<br />
(Again this pic was kindly shared by Erhard Schulte. It is the stallion <a href="http://Flaneur./">Flaneur.</a>)</div>
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Before I go, I want to say that there are other characters. Every story of this kind must have an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antagonist">antagonist</a> or more simply said a villain. My villain's name is <b>Golitsin</b>. Although, I don't have a picture of him I clearly see him in my mind's eye. You'll just have to read the novel when it is published to get your own idea of what he is like.</div>
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Until next time,</div>
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Marina Gottlieb Sarles</div>
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</div>Marina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6873627377063901008.post-11540418985713970492012-04-04T17:31:00.000-07:002012-04-04T17:31:58.059-07:00The Last Daughter of Prussia has a Cover!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBBQDq_rBIhBbDvwlX1QJmvMtS2LoxeCKrs3tZKiE8fwPwuomF2agaRgP-4_9XulvoeTTnck2fs8QxI2_Rh49YNzQtrxp24fCSB1zm-u8lnsuYvpjM_FzR5t5FL8I7DfY90lcEwWFsyg/s1600/LDOP-frontcover-hires9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBBQDq_rBIhBbDvwlX1QJmvMtS2LoxeCKrs3tZKiE8fwPwuomF2agaRgP-4_9XulvoeTTnck2fs8QxI2_Rh49YNzQtrxp24fCSB1zm-u8lnsuYvpjM_FzR5t5FL8I7DfY90lcEwWFsyg/s640/LDOP-frontcover-hires9.jpeg" width="417" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Here it is! <br />
The cover for my upcoming novel - The Last Daughter of Prussia.<br />
<br />
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Happy Easter Everyone!<br />
The contract with my publisher <a href="http://www.wildriverreview.com/user/73">Wild River Books</a> has been successfully negotiated. The work is out of my hands and my characters—Manya, Joshi, Helling—whom I so dearly love will now be dialoguing with the final editor. <br />
The pre-publication date will be in November 2012 and to all my loyal readers who have been asking repeatedly when the book will be out, I want to say that I will be having a book signing for hardback copies in Freeport, Grand Bahama and in Marsh Harbour, Abaco BEFORE Christmas. So stay tuned. I'll let you know via facebook and the newspapers etc. Others who can't be at the signings will be able to order copies. I'll send out all that information closer to the time.<br />
<br />
Working with my publishers Joy Stocke and Kim Nagy has been terrific. As we ironed out all the many details regarding international distribution, film rights, etc, I was impressed by their willingness to create a perfect alignment for all concerned. It really was a co-creative process made easier with the help of my wonderful lawyer friend, Ben Kavanaugh and my insightful husband, <a href="http://www.sarlesrealty.com/">James Sarles</a>.<br />
<br />
Now to the <a href="http://www.1stwebdesigner.com/inspiration/beautiful-book-cover-design/">cover design</a>. In the same way that people need clothes, my novel needed a cover—one that would fit its genre (historical romantic fiction) and appeal to those most likely to buy it. I think the cover—so elegantly created by <a href="http://www.oglinedesign.com/">Tim Ogline</a>—does that. The elements are simple yet powerful and like a billboard they communicate the theme of the story which is one of survival and courage, beauty and devastation. I hope that people who see it will experience an eagerness to learn more about what is inside.<br />
<br />
In a previous blog post called <a href="http://www.marinagottlieb-sarles.com/2012/01/whats-in-book-cover.html">What's in a Book Cover</a>, I spoke about the process of choosing images for the cover design. In this particular post I'd like to share some insights about what the final images chosen represent and how they relate to The Last Daughter's story.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmB_tIVGwhsLb83cjvM9dfifen_h5Hl26FNSlVbbzeoFM4E5RY9V17yVw7KQ2TnYoGjAUhCozwHPsMXpZY-ikLV0ByFALb1dMKz02scW1hqxgCre2qzhebqjPHyGuA90jcPntLUrzrR0/s1600/german-refugees-from-koenigsburg-to-pillau-february-1945-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSmB_tIVGwhsLb83cjvM9dfifen_h5Hl26FNSlVbbzeoFM4E5RY9V17yVw7KQ2TnYoGjAUhCozwHPsMXpZY-ikLV0ByFALb1dMKz02scW1hqxgCre2qzhebqjPHyGuA90jcPntLUrzrR0/s400/german-refugees-from-koenigsburg-to-pillau-february-1945-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trakehners on the dangerous<a href="http://historyimages.blogspot.com/2011/10/1945-russians-were-coming-east-prussia.html"> trek</a> across the ice</td></tr>
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<br />
Let me begin with the white horse on the cover. In the novel, her name is Shambhala. She stands for the brave <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trakehner">Trakehner horses</a> who, during the last bitter winter of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flight_and_expulsion_of_Germans_(1944%E2%80%931950)">WW2</a>, fought to bring millions of East Prussians to safety across the treacherous parts the <a href="http://www.trakehners.co.nz/Pages/NZ%20Trakehners%20ABOUT-History%202.htm">Frisches Haff</a>, a frozen lagoon which was the only escape route open to the innocent fleeing civilians caught between the savagery of the invading Russian Army and Nazi orders prohibiting their evacuation. Like my heroine Manya von Falken (whose haunting eyes you see in the upper left hand corner), Shambhala also is a "last daughter" of Prussia. She represents the last of a Trakehner breed that was nearly wiped out in that war.<br />
<br />
A symbol of life force and strength, she is determined to move forward even though her eyes express that she knows she is leaving the good life behind. Never again will she canter across the soft earth of East Prussian meadows in spring, yet she is resolved to bring those she loves to safety, her hooves pounding at the snow which has made the path to freedom so difficult. Her animal spirit is intuitive. She recognizes her part along the tragic trail of history. She feels the weight of death and devastation on her back but she also senses that she might be a messenger of new beginnings.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisFX4BADf99LHnjTSwrqY2ZUgIKOZml9mwfs_Z54dz0e61QbCN2v_Q7BqcHviTiU1UaEJcJyxJViwMbaS_eWwXvWin6iUe58bSy5sn_Krgc89yHpNVvbyQYt5TokC_HqupAYCQpFR18fw/s1600/destruction-at-Koenigsburg-April-1945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisFX4BADf99LHnjTSwrqY2ZUgIKOZml9mwfs_Z54dz0e61QbCN2v_Q7BqcHviTiU1UaEJcJyxJViwMbaS_eWwXvWin6iUe58bSy5sn_Krgc89yHpNVvbyQYt5TokC_HqupAYCQpFR18fw/s400/destruction-at-Koenigsburg-April-1945.jpg" width="292" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Death and devastation after the massive Russian assault on an East Prussian city<br />
Shambhala would have sensed this danger and carried on toward survival<br />
Source: http://historyimages.blogspot.com/2011/10/1945-russians-were-coming-east-prussia.html</td></tr>
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<br />
Some words now about the woman in the picture—Manya. Thank you to my talented photographer friend, <a href="http://www.christinematthai.com/Artwork/Welcome.html">Christine Matthäi</a> who allowed us to use this photo. Thousands of stock photo images did not express what she captured in this pair of eyes. Not only can we see that Manya has a special connection to horses, but in her haunting gaze we sense that she has witnessed unspeakable horrors of war, rape and death. Like Shambhala, her eyes hold a vision for survival, yet there is a seriousness to her, a loneliness too, as though her struggle for life is being transversed through the pitch black channels of her focused pupils. She is strong, yet she knows that some part of her will always remain in East Prussia. As she looks through the snow, she sees the rich brown earth of the land her ancestors called home for countless generations (represented by the square containing the book's title) and she knows, despite her dreams for a better future that she will always be—a last daughter of Prussia.<br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSQz8kRc73M/T3yqTdOUMFI/AAAAAAAABHY/yE4QuGawMCI/s1600/Bundesarchiv_Bild_175-S00-00326,_Flu%CC%88chtlinge_aus_Ostpreu%C3%9Fen_auf_Pferdewagen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSQz8kRc73M/T3yqTdOUMFI/AAAAAAAABHY/yE4QuGawMCI/s400/Bundesarchiv_Bild_175-S00-00326,_Flu%CC%88chtlinge_aus_Ostpreu%C3%9Fen_auf_Pferdewagen.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http:/">East Prussian families fleeing on the trek</a><br />
The travesties of war<br />
Horses like these and Shambhala fought to keep their human companions alive.<br />
They were true heroes.</td></tr>
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<br />
Finally, I just want to mention the use of color. Blue symbolizes faith. The story behind the cover is one that encompasses the travesties of war. It was not an easy story to write. Even so, throughout it all, the characters cling to threads of hope and love. Blue also represents military power—a threat that constantly hovers over the fleeing civilians—especially on clear days when Russian bombers have unobscured views—but blue is also a royal color that symbolizes strength, courage and devotion. So, for me, that blue sky is a link to heaven, to God and the possibility for change even though the white snow below means delay and death.<br />
<br />
Until next time...<br />
<br />
—Marina Gottlieb SarlesMarina Gottlieb Sarleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12967565349228074382noreply@blogger.com1