From the Eyes of a Child—Part 3

Coming to America

by Sherri Stewart

A few months ago, I spent the afternoon with Zofia Zsibinski, (Zosia for short), an eighty-four year old Polish woman who exuded confidence and elegance. From outward appearances, no one could have believed this petite woman with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes could have endured such a tumultuous childhood and lived to tell about it.  Her story couldn’t have been summed up in a single article, so I broke up her story into three parts: The War Years in Poland and Germany, The Years of Servitude after the War, and Zosia’s Life after Coming to America.

From the age of three, the Nazis forced Zosia and her family from their home in Poland onto a train to Germany, where she endured her early years in a dozen different internment camps. One time, her parents, sisters, and Zosia were told to grab all their belongings, strip, and enter a building where they waited for the gas to take their lives, but the conduit for the gas had been destroyed, so they lived to see another day.

When the war ended, life didn’t improve for the Zsibinskis. Nazi soldiers were replaced by German farmers who bid on families to work their fields, and for the next few years, the family lived in a barn loft without heat and little food. Because of Zosia’s cheery disposition and ability to speak a little German, she ingratiated herself to the farmer’s elderly parents, who gave her extra food and freedom to move around the farm.

With little hope of their lives ever improving in Europe, Zosia’s parents made the decision to move to a different country, but in order to do so, they’d need a sponsor from the target country who would guarantee that the family could stay together, find employment, and receive room and board. One such family in Australia agreed to sponsor them, but just as they were about to board the ship, the offer was withdrawn because the sponsors wanted a smaller family.

 

Months later, the Polish Alliance found them a sponsor named Joseph Warjas, an elderly man who worked for Packard in Detroit. After a tumultuous journey across the ocean where Zosia’s mother almost died, they arrived at Ellis Island in the spring of 1951.

Their first view of New York was disheartening. Zosia’s sister Helena said, “Daddy, why did you bring us to hell?” They took the train to Detroit and ended up at 17808 Wexburg. Their sponsor, Joseph Warjas, greeted them with open arms. He told her parents, “As long as I’m alive and I have a dime, your children will be taken care of.” Zosia’s first memories of her new home included the big white box in the kitchen called a refrigerator, two bedrooms, and of all things, something called a bathroom. There were even apple trees in the yard. Zosia had never seen a black person until she ventured out of the house and met her neighbors. They welcomed her and her family with open arms and brought them clothes. She also remembered how meticulous their lawns were. One of their neighbors took Polish lessons so he’d be able to talk to them. Although Zosia and her two sisters had second-hand dresses to wear, they had to share one pair of shoes and a babushka, so they couldn’t attend the same mass.

The family lived there for four years. They walked to church, and Father allowed Mother to sing in the choir. Father got a job sweeping floors at a little factory for five cents an hour. When he received his first two nickels, he broke down in tears. The nickels meant more than money; they meant freedom and a future. Zosia never smiled as a child, and her mother always covered her own mouth when she talked. When Uncle Joe took her mother to get her teeth checked, the dentist cried when he saw her teeth. Her mother said it was “a Hitler thing.”

One bright spot in those first years was Club PNA (Polish National Association) which welcomed newcomers, but it was located three miles away, and the Zsibinskis walked there twice a week. Choir rehearsal, lessons on Polish and American history, and art and drama gave them the center they needed to thrive as a family in the community. They also enjoyed picnics and festivals where they participated in Polish dances.

In the fall, Zosia started school at Corpus Cristi. The nuns showed no compassion to the tiny eleven-year-old who spoke little English. They taunted her and then sent her to Mother Superior when Zosia responded with some bad words she’d picked up. Twin boys who had witnessed the interaction stuck up for Zosia by telling Mother Superior what the nuns had said. She made the nuns apologize to Zosia. School was always hard for Zosia who suffered from dyslexia and the language difference. However, she worked hard and finally graduated from St. Thomas the Apostle School in Detroit. 

 

Zofia got a job at JL Hudson’s as a stock girl. She handled all the stock from the third-floor basement to the 23rd floor. Eventually, she was promoted to millinery buyer. Mrs. Charles Fisher and Mrs. Henry Ford were two of her clients. Zofia loved the glamour of it all and later worked as a rep for a wig company. It was there she learned about upper-class behavior. She bought her mother a $25 dress, which was a lot of money for a young girl who supported her parents for $2 an hour pay. Her indomitable spirit and work ethic enabled her to make her way up to superintendent of cosmetics at Revlon and Clairol with an office in New York. 

 

 

Sherri Stewart is woman of faith who loves all things foreign whether it’s food, culture, or language. A former French teacher and flight attendant, her passion is traveling to the settings of her books, sampling the food, and visiting the sites. She savored boterkoeken in Amsterdam for A Song for Her Enemies, and crème brûlée in Paris for its sequel, What Hides beyond the Walls. A widow, Sherri lives in the Orlando area with her dog, Lily, and her son, Joshua, who always has to fix her computer. As an author, editor, and Bible teacher, she hopes her books will entertain and challenge readers to live large and connect with their Savior. Join, chat, and share with her on social media. Newsletter Facebook Twitter Instagram Website
If the Nazis stole your house, wouldn’t you be justified in stealing it back?

When Tamar Feldman admits to her husband, Daniel, and mentor, Neelie Visser, that she broke into her former home, they scold her for taking such a risk. Tamar is tired of being careful. She’s tired of living in the present, as if the past doesn’t matter. But the painting of the violin girl in her former bedroom draws her back again and again. She finally steals the painting to return it to its former owner. Now maybe this small act of justice will help Tamar start to heal. When Neelie sees the painting, she reveals a secret about it that will take the three of them on a quest to Amsterdam and Paris to find justice, forgiveness, and new beginnings. What Tamar doesn’t realize is the past isn’t finished with her yet; in fact, it’s as close as the walls in her house and even follows her to Paris. Amazon

From a Child’s Eyes, Part Two

By Sherri Stewart

“Hatred doesn’t end with the signing of a piece of paper.” What happened to the holocaust survivors when the war ended in 1945? Most couldn’t go home either because their homes had been destroyed or because anti-Semitism reigned supreme. With few possibilities for emigration, tens of thousands of homeless people migrated to other European territories where they were housed in hundreds of refugee centers and displaced people (DP) camps in Germany.

A few months ago, I interviewed Zofia Zsibinski, a petite 84-year-old woman who captivated me with her story about growing up in Nazi Germany.  Zosia, as she was called, was only three when the Nazis showed up at her family’s small farmhouse in Poland and gave them fifteen minutes to gather their belongings. In Part One, I wrote about her life during the war. So what happened to her and her family when the war ended?

Local German farmers needed people to work the farms since the work force had been depleted when young people were recruited as soldiers during the war. The Nazis took advantage by housing Zofia’s family and other prisoners in a farmers market. Farmers came from far and wide to look them over as if they were animals, then bid on them to become slave laborers. A farmer’s son named George won the bid for Zofia’s family and took them to work on his parents’ cattle and potato farm. When Zofia’s father asked him not to make their sickly aunt work, the farmer said, “She’ll learn, or she’ll die.”

Zofia’s family was taken to the pigsty to wash up and given clothes to wear with the prominent P for Polish on the front and back of their hats. The family was to stay in the loft of the barn, where there was a large bed, two chairs, a table, and a potbelly stove. All five members of the family slept in the bed, some facing the head; others facing the foot of the bed. Each morning before the sun came up, Zofia’s parents went to work in the fields until dark. During the day, George removed the ladder to the loft so the children couldn’t get down. Malnutrition set in because they were only fed a watery broth with a piece of potato and bacon floating in it for dinner. On some Sundays they were given a treat—a butter sandwich or a piece of cake. The potbelly stove didn’t work, so Zofia and her sisters spent the days half frozen.

Little by little, the children got used to the routine and were eventually allowed to walk in the orchard or stay by their mother if she worked close by. During one of those outdoor times, Hitler boys came marching by, saw the P on their hats, and the three girls were beaten to a pulp, all the while calling the girls, “Polish swine.” 

Serbian POWs were brought to the farm to work. Father advised Zofia and her sisters, “If you see a pile of eggs, they’re probably rotten, so call a farmer. If you see a chick laying eggs, pocket them.” One of the Serbians stole the eggs from a pile and swallowed the chirping eggs.

Zofia learned a few phrases in German, and when she had her daily break outside, she approached George’s father and said, “Wie gehts?” How are you? The old man and his wife were so impressed they gave her two pieces of bread a day. George’s sister Maria wasn’t a good person. She discovered Zofia’s sister, Mariana, took her to the cellar, and dropped her by the head into a milk can then left her in the cellar. From that point forward, Mariana ran away whenever she had the chance.
The farm wasn’t Zofia’s last home. From age five to eleven, Zofia, along with her family, were transferred from DP camp to camp. They lived in military barracks with up to six families in a room where there was no toilet paper and only one bathing area. Babies were born and sometimes drowned in the toilet. Couples walked into the woods and were later found hanging from a tree.

When Zofia was nine years old, she needed a tonsillectomy, so she was sent to Munster. For this procedure without Novocain, Helga, the nurse, yanked her arms back and slapped her if she screamed as the doctor cut her tonsils out. That night all the patients got ice cream, but not Zofia because of the P on her hat. Instead, tomatoes were shoved in her mouth, which burned her throat. When she ran away from the hospital later that night, a soldier picked her up and took her back to the guard station.

In the midst of all the darkness, there was a shining light. Her father filled out an application for a family to sponsor them to move to the United States. 

Stay tuned for Part Three.

Selah Award finalist Sherri Stewart loves a clean novel, sprinkled with romance and a strong message that challenges her faith. She spends her working hours with books—either editing others’ manuscripts or writing her own. Her passions are traveling to the settings of her books and sampling the food. She traveled to Paris for this book, and she works daily on her French and German although she doesn’t need to since everyone speaks English. A widow, Sherri lives in Orlando with her lazy dog, Lily. She shares recipes, tidbits of the book’s locations, and other authors' books in her newsletter.

A Song for Her Enemies

Tamar Kaplan is a budding soprano with the Haarlam Opera company. Her future looks bright, despite the presence of the German soldiers guarding the Haarlam. But when Nazi soldiers close down the opera company, families start disappearing in the middle of the night, and Jews are stripped of their freedoms, Tamar realizes her brother Seth was right about her naiveté. She joins the resistance, her blond hair and light features making it easy for her come and go under the watchful eyes of the German guards. Tamar becomes Dr. Daniel Feldman’s assistant, as they visit families hiding out in forests and hovels, tending to their sickness. But when she returns home to find her parents gone and the family store looted, she and Daniel must go into hiding.  As they cling to the walls of an alley, Tamar recognizes a familiar face—that of Corrie ten Boom, the neighbor, who beckons to them to follow her. Can she trust this Gentile woman who talks about God as if he’s standing next to her? https://bit.ly/40Yucjv

From a Child’s Eyes, Part One

By Sherri Stewart

A few months ago, I joined Zofia Zsibinski for lunch in Tecumseh, Michigan. This petite 84-year-old woman captivated me for the next five hours with her story.  Zosia, as she was called, was only three when the Nazis showed up at her family’s small farmhouse in Poland and gave them fifteen minutes to gather their belongings. Since Zofia was only three, many of her memories come from her older sister Marysia, who was eight at the time. Most of the holocaust stories we’ve heard over the years focus on the six-million Jews who were killed or persecuted between 1939 and 1945, and rightly so,  but this is the story of a Catholic family, seen from the children’s eyes.

Zofia was born on March 16, 1940. Three days later the Nazis took over the local church and rectory. Since the newborn hadn’t been christened, Zofia’s mother scrambled to find godparents then raced to the church to have her daughter baptized before the priest was arrested. Later that day, hours after the baptism, the priest was taken away and died at Dachau. Zofia’s father was forced to work for the Germans at a mill during the day, but he was often gone at night. The family later learned that he was a member of the underground in Poland. It was when his group was sent on a raid to blow up the railroad tracks that all were killed except Zofia’s father. Later that night the Nazis took Zofia’s family captive.

The whole family—Zofia’s parents, older sisters, Marysia and Hela, Zofia, and elderly, crippled Aunt Apollonio were forced to walk three days and three nights to a barb-wired fabric factory in Lodz where they were forced to stand in place for a week. There was no food, water, or bathroom. The Jews had to wear the star of David, and the Poles had to wear a P on their clothing and hats. Relatives who lived in the area would sneak food and fluids to Zofia’s mother, which she would conceal in her bra. If she didn’t hide them, the ravenous people around them would have surely attacked her.

 

When the Nazis forced the captives onto a train headed to Germany, Zofia’s father pushed his family forward to reach the window, where they would breathe fresh air, and he’d be able to hold his girls out the window to do their business. They were on that train for over a week. From the window, they saw captured soldiers working on the bombed tracks of the railroad—thin men with barely any clothes on their backs. Citizens of the villages both in Poland and Germany would sneak bread through the window at night. Zofia’s father would throw some toward the prisoners outside. The prisoners would cover the bread with sand until the Gestapo were out of sight, then they’d dig it up to eat it.  One prisoner wasn’t so lucky. When he was caught, the Gestapo used him for target practice. If anyone looked on, they were chopped up with the Gestapo’s shovels.

When the train finally stopped, a third of the people inside the train were dead. Nobody knew because they were still standing shoulder to shoulder. The German soldiers piled the cadavers onto wagons and carted them away. They used whips to herd the living to a tent refugee camp. Each day they received a can of soup and a loaf of bread per tent. One day Zofia’s father was pouring soup when a finger fell out of the can. Zofia never ate soup again during the war.

 

One day a voice over a loudspeaker announced that everyone needed to take a shower. They were told to bring all of their belongings and line up. Once inside a large building, they were told to take off all their clothes and pile them by the door. The officers separated men and boys from the group, and sent the females and small children into a large room with showerheads and pipes. Before they were separated, her mother and father slipped their wedding rings into their mouths. Once everyone was inside, the doors shut. Zofia’s mother hurried her children toward the showerheads, and there they stood for two hours. Nothing happened. They would later discover that the Brits had bombed the rails so the gas couldn’t reach the tent camp. It seemed God still had plans for them.

When the doors opened, they were surprised to see the tent city gone and their belongings all mixed up. All the shoes were gone. Apparently the war was over, but the Gestapo didn’t know what to do with the refugees, so they had them sit on the ground for a day and a night.

 

Part 2 of Zofia’s story next month—the post-war years.

Selah Award finalist Sherri Stewart loves a clean novel, sprinkled with romance and a strong message that challenges her faith. She spends her working hours with books—either editing others’ manuscripts or writing her own. Her passions are traveling to the settings of her books and sampling the food. She traveled to Paris for this book, and she works daily on her French and German although she doesn’t need to since everyone speaks English. A widow, Sherri lives in Orlando with her lazy dog, Lily. She shares recipes, tidbits of the book’s locations, and other authors' books in her newsletter.

Subscribe at http://eepurl.com/gZ-mv9

A Song for Her Enemies

Tamar Kaplan is a budding soprano with the Harlaam Opera company. Her future looks bright, despite the presence of the German soldiers guarding the Harlaam. But when Nazi soldiers close down the opera company, families start disappearing in the middle of the night, and Jews are stripped of their freedoms, Tamar realizes her brother Seth was right about her naiveté. She joins the resistance, her blond hair and light features making it easy for her come and go under the watchful eyes of the German guards. Tamar becomes Dr. Daniel Feldman’s assistant, as they visit families hiding out in forests and hovels, tending to their sickness. But when she returns home to find her parents gone and the family store looted, she and Daniel must go into hiding.  As they cling to the walls of an alley, Tamar recognizes a familiar face—that of Corrie ten Boom, the neighbor, who beckons to them to follow her. Can she trust this Gentile woman who talks about God as if he’s standing next to her? https://bit.ly/40Yucjv

Franz Hasel—A Nazi who Dared to Live for God

 By Sherri Stewart

What would you do if you were drafted into the Nazi army? Such a dilemma happened in 1939 to Franz Hasel, father of three and devout Seventh Day Adventist. A summons from the draft board arrived at his farmhouse to present himself at the recruitment office in Frankfurt the following Monday. Although he was a pacifist and could not carry a gun, Hasel committed himself to follow God no matter what. He requested to be assigned to the medical corps but was assigned to the Pioneer Company 699 that built roads, bridges, and fortifications at the front lines. He knew that either he must obey the regime, or he and his family would be sent to Dachau concentration camp. 

As the first weekend approached, Private Hasel asked to speak to his commanding officer and made the following request, “As you know, sir, I am a Christian, I follow the Bible and its teaching and set aside the seventh day of each week as a special day to worship God and strengthen my relationship with Him. I would like to be excused from reporting for duty on God’s day of worship.” His lieutenant’s face turned red. “You must be mad, private!” This is the German Army. This battalion is going to war, and you want Saturday off? It’s just my luck to be saddled with a religious nut!” The angry officer even threatened Hasel with court-martial, but Hasel stood his ground, and the lieutenant eventually agreed that he could have Saturdays off if he could find a replacement.

During boot camp training in 1941, just before the company entered Russia, Hasel proved to be especially good at target practice. He soon became known as the sharpshooter of the company—this a man who refused to carry a gun. How would he react when faced with an enemy soldier? He then remembered his promise to God not to take another man’s life. Since he didn’t want to use his sharpshooter skills to kill, he had to come up with a plan. He found a piece of wood and carved it into the shape of a revolver handle. Then he used shoe polish to paint it black, the same color as his revolver. Later that night, he slipped outside to a small lake nearby. Under the cover of darkness, Hasel tossed his weapon into the water and replaced it with the fake wooden handle in his black leather holster. Private First Class Hasel was headed to the Russian Front with a wooden gun!

While advancing into Russian territory, Hasel’s unit was instructed to search through the houses in every captured village for any partisans and resistance fighters who may be hiding. He was ordered to indiscriminately kill anyone he encountered. In one village as he was searching a house, Hasel had the distinct impression someone was hiding in the bedroom. He looked under the bed and came face-to-face with a young man staring back at him. Hasel knew the young man would be shot if he reported him, so he turned on his heel and left without saying a word. 

Several weeks later, Hasel was assigned to patrol a railway track to make sure that no resistance fighters sabotaged the tracks. He was all alone on patrol when a group of Russian Cossacks suddenly charged at him on their horses and formed a circle around him. There was no way to escape. He braced himself for death, believing they would surely kill him. Then to Hasel’s utter amazement, he stared into the face of a Cossack commander who was the same young man hiding under the bed. They immediately recognized each other. The young commander pointed his gun at Hasel and said, “I could kill you now, but you were kind enough to save my life. So, I will spare your life!” Then he ordered his men to ride on.

As the German Army bulldozed its way into Russia, special SS forces followed behind the army. These special forces had one main goal: to kill all Jews. Every chance Franz Hasel got, he’d sneak into the villages and towns they had overrun and warn the Jews to hide. “The SS is following in a day or two behind us. You will recognize them by their black uniforms with the skull-and-crossbones on their caps. When they get here, they will round the Jews up and murder them.” 

In one such village, Hasel along with other soldiers entered a small house to search for snipers. The house was empty but showed signs of a hasty retreat. The soldiers pocketed jewelry, watches, and all the trinkets they could find. In the meantime, Hasel headed to the attic where he found a sewing machine with a spool of black thread on it. Knowing how precious thread was back home in Germany, he pocketed the spool to send home to his wife. After all, he rationalized, the owners weren’t going to come back. Later that night his conscience reminded him it was the little things that led to sin. The next day, he returned to the house, spool in pocket, and put it back where it belonged. Like Daniel in the Bible, Franz Hasel determined to live out his faith in the presence of his enemies.

https://theholocaustandworldwarii.wordpress.com/2018/11/07/faithful-at-the-front/

Selah Award finalist Sherri Stewart loves a clean novel, sprinkled with romance and a strong message that challenges her faith. She spends her working hours with books—either editing others’ manuscripts or writing her own. Her passions are traveling to the settings of her books and sampling the food. She traveled to Paris for this book, and she works daily on her French and German although she doesn’t need to since everyone speaks English. A widow, Sherri lives in Orlando with her lazy dog, Lily. She shares recipes, tidbits of the book’s locations, and other authors' books in her newsletter.
Subscribe at http://eepurl.com/gZ-mv9

What Hides behind the Walls

If the Nazis stole your house, wouldn’t you be justified in stealing it back now that the war is over?

When Tamar Feldman admits to her husband, Daniel, and mentor, Neelie Visser, that she broke into her former home, they scold her for taking such a risk. Tamar is tired of being careful. She’s tired of living in the present, as if the past doesn’t matter. But the painting of the violin girl in her former bedroom draws her back again and again. She finally steals the painting to return it to its former owner. Now maybe this small act of justice will help her start to heal. What Tamar doesn’t realize is the past isn’t finished with her yet; in fact, it’s as close as the walls in her house and even follows her to Paris.
https://amzn.to/3fxHAHo

The Passengers in Steerage

By Sherri Stewart

If you’ve seen Titanic, you’ll remember how Jack convinced Rose to join him for an evening on the steerage level of the ocean liner where they danced and laughed for hours. It was certainly more fun than the stuffy atmosphere of the more costly levels above. Was that a true depiction? Apparently so. Lawrence Beesley, a young English teacher traveling second class, reported: “I often noticed how the third-class passengers were enjoying every minute of the time: a most uproarious skipping game of the mixed double type was the great favorite while in and out and roundabout went a Scotchman with his bagpipes.” Mrs. Natalie Wick noted that when chunks of the fatal iceberg landed on the third-class deck space, she watched from her first-class cabin on the starboard side “as the young steerage passengers playfully threw ice at one another.”

The casual attitude of the steerage passengers was due to the fact that they didn’t know what was going on. It would be an hour and twenty minutes until the lifeboats were uncovered and then about two hours until the ship sank at 2:20 a.m. From the time when the full danger was realized until the ship went under, the steerage passengers encountered more obstacles than the ones above in their struggles to survive.

The men’s steerage quarters were forward and the women’s aft on the lowest passenger deck. As a result of this arrangement, the men in third class were aware that the ship was in danger long before the women. Daniel Buckley wrote that he woke up, jumped out of bed, and found water on the floor. He roused his mates, who told him to get back in bed, saying “You’re not in Ireland now.” (Wyn Craig Wade, "The Titanic, End of a Dream.") Other young Irishmen went to warn the young women that they were in danger. Katherine Gilnagh wrote that Eugene Daly, a young piper, alerted her that something was wrong with the ship. Katherine and her friends were among the lucky steerage passengers who were given notice of the ship’s danger. Most were not. Senator William Alden Smith, Chairman of the Senate Committee that investigated the disaster, concluded that “the small number of steerage survivors was thus due to the fact that they got no definite warning before the ship was really doomed when most of the boats had departed.” 

Even those steerage passengers who were informed were not out of danger. Gilnagh wrote that steerage passengers were barred by the crew from climbing the stairs to the boat deck, which was located above the A deck. Gilnagh and her friends Kate Mullin and Kate Murphy were the lucky few. They were rescued by Jim Farrell, an Irishman who pleaded their cause to the crew member who refused to let them climb the stairs: “Great God, man!” he roared, “open the gate and let the girls through.” To the girls’ astonishment, the sailor meekly complied. Farrell’s loyalty to friends from home saved the girls, but he himself perished. His body was one of the few recovered from the North Atlantic on April 24, 1912.

Katherine Gilnagh’s troubles were not over when the gate opened to the girls. The deck was deserted, except for a single man leaning against the rail, staring moodily into the night. He let Gilnagh stand on his shoulders, and she managed to climb to the next deck up. When she finally reached the boat deck, Lifeboat No. 16 was just starting down. A man warned her off, saying that there was no more room. “But I want to go with my sister!” Katherine cried. She had no sister, but it seemed the only way to convince the man. “All right, get in,” he sighed, and she slipped into the boat as it dropped to the sea. Gilnagh’s friend Kate Murphy and her sister Margaret escaped in Lifeboat 15, which left at the same time from the starboard side and carried about sixty second and third-class women and children. Later, Margaret and Kate Murphy would save an Irish teen who leaped overboard as the Titanic foundered. Beaten away from one partially filled lifeboat, the teen tried to climb aboard another boat only to be attacked again by the boat’s crew. The Murphy sisters reached into the water, grabbed McCormick, and pleaded with the sailors to let him aboard, which they reluctantly did. 

Dan Buckley, the only Irish passenger and one of only three third-class passengers called to testify before the Smith Committee, described the difficulty steerage passengers had in getting to the boat deck. A crew member threw the man ahead of him down the stairs, locked the gates, and fled. The man picked himself up and smashed the lock so that Buckley and other steerage passengers could climb the stairs to the boat deck. The charge that steerage passengers were allowed into the lifeboats only after cabin passengers had boarded, and that they were physically denied access to the boat deck was refuted in the Senate hearing by Titanic crewmen; however, a crew member on Boat 15 said that steerage women were accommodated only after first-class passengers. Additionally, there were fewer stewards in third class to help those in steerage make their way to the boat deck. Steward J.E. Hart testified that he had time to bring only two batches of steerage women from their quarters to the lifeboats.

Arriving in New York aboard the Carpathia, which picked up the Titanic’s surviving passengers between 4:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m., rescued steerage passengers were spared the Ellis Island ordeal and were interviewed by immigration officials. One Irish girl was asked whether she had an emigration card. “Divil a bit of a card have I,” she said, wide-eyed. “I’m lucky to have me own life.” 

Selah Award finalist Sherri Stewart loves a clean novel, sprinkled with romance and a strong message that challenges her faith. She spends her working hours with books—either editing others’ manuscripts or writing her own. Her passions are traveling to the settings of her books and sampling the food. She traveled across the Atlantic on an ocean liner to research An Uncommon Gift. A widow, Sherri lives in Orlando with her lazy dog, Lily. She shares recipes, tidbits of the books' locations, and other authors' books in her newsletter.

Subscribe at stewartwriting.com/newsletter

An Uncommon Gift

Ella Davis’s papa always told her there’d be no class difference in Heaven, but Ella has years to live on God’s green earth until she reaches her reward. She’s content to be a maid on the Huntington Estate, as long as she has her books and her kitten. But when her ladyship, Amberly Huntington, coerces Ella to take her place on the Mauretania, the fastest ocean liner in 1910, Ella’s worst nightmare has come to pass. She must pretend to be nobility for the eight days it takes to reach New York. In other words, she must live a lie—and this just before Christmas! https://bit.ly/47MTvYX