Life in my mother’s hometown, Limbaži: a photo essay
Our refugee parents and grandparents spoke of Latvia as if it were a cross between Camelot and Brigadoon.
Between the first and second World Wars Latvia was a free, prosperous, and independent republic.
I don’t know what holiday the flag display is celebrating. My guess would be that it’s not Latvia’s Independence Day, which falls on November 18th. I would expect there to be snow on the ground in November since Latvia is almost on the 57th latitude. Even Moscow is farther south. Aberdeen, Scotland, and Kalmar, Sweden are on the same latitude. However, the Gulf Stream keeps Lativa warmer than one might expect so perhaps the holiday being commemorated is Independence Day. It’s a pity that there’s no writing on the back of this postcard.
The first nationwide song festival in Latvia was held in Rīga in 1873 during the National Awakening. Latvia was still part of the Russian Empire then. It didn’t succeed in throwing off the Russian yoke until 1918, although an unsuccessful attempt was made during the Russian Revolution of 1905. Many Latvians who had participated in the failed uprising fled the country to save themselves and their families from Russian retribution.
These are Girl Guides, the Latvian version of girl scouts in the church my mom’s family attended. My mother is the flag-bearer. I don’t know what the occasion or even what the date was. Too many photos with nothing written on the back.
There are so many things about this photo that I love. Most of all that it includes my mother as a young woman. She’s the one ducking her head and smiling. In photos, she’s frequently the only one who’s smiling. I also love the meat grinder. My mother had one just like it here in the United States. I also love the bowl, the fat little pitcher, and the scale.
My mother’s oldest brother, Leonīds Francis is in the first row on the far left. The smiley face, fourth from the left in the front row, is my mother. She was the third of four children, the only girl. Maybe she’s around eight or nine in this photo.
7 thoughts on “Latvia Between Wars”
Beautiful but sad history and memories…
Thanks, Niall. Yes, the history is sad. For me, it’s a matter of imagination of memories passed on by my mother.
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It’s nice that you can keep those memories alive…
Thanks, Niall. It’s a labor of love. Too few people know of this chapter in history so I feel obligated to educate as many as I can in a way that is interesting and not too didactic.
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A great post. Another excellent addition to the book you plan to do collecting posts.
Thanks, Colleen! I’m glad you think so.
Your new post is informative . Thanks for sharing.
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