The Personal Memories of Sr. Anna Bittner, DW, Part 5

Sr. Anna Bittner and Sr. Camille Solis.

Dad often said that had it not been for us he would have given his life for a younger man at the headcount in the camp (like Maximilian Kolbe). I cannot possibly end these reflections without saying some things in tribute to my parents, brother, and sisters.

My parents were burdened with the demands of life. They were not happily married. As was customary in those days, their marriage had been pre-arranged. Dad had a characteristic sense of joy, a deep faith, and a gentle love for the Virgin Mary. Often, he'd whistle hymns in her honor, in my early childhood as well as later. Although we were raised as Catholics, going to Mass was not stressed except for special occasions. The Sacraments were important, and prayer at home was not foreign to us. One example of the Sacraments: I was born at home and was very, very small. I was taken to church for baptism as soon as it opened because I was not expected to live.

OK, now back to Dad. One value he frequently passed on to us, and I quote, “No matter what situation you find yourself in, you can always learn from it. What you learn becomes part of you; and that no one can take from you. They can take everything else away from you but that.”

Other values he taught us were to be disciplined and self-controlled; to be honest, hard-working; and to live within one’s means and not to owe anyone anything, was very important.

Dad was extremely devoted to family, resourceful, and a tireless worker. As mentioned earlier, he was a man of insurmountable courage, a fearless risk-taker, totally self-giving, and a man of integrity and conviction. We never lacked the necessities. He was the neighborhood tailor. He had the extraordinary ability to create something beautiful out of scraps of material. He worked without a pattern. Dad's work was always "perfect" (and he expected nothing less from us). He never wanted for customers.

In 1950 he got married again. I was 12 years old. John and Theresia were both already married, and Dad felt I needed a mother. He acted hastily and we both suffered greatly as a result. My stepmother Sophie was not well emotionally. She hated girls, informed me of that at our first meeting and on many subsequent occasions. My teenage rebelliousness surfaced and escalated, for which I am not proud. I was intent on doing the opposite of her wishes and cleverly concealing it from Dad.

Dad actually loved another woman named Rosemary. She didn't know if her husband, who was missing in action, was dead or alive. Shortly after his marriage to Sophie, he learned that Rosemary was free to marry him, but it was too late. That was a tremendous heartbreak for him.

Dad survived a mild stroke in 1953. Through determination and hard work, he was able to sew again within just a few months. He did not have many happy moments in his adult life, yet never lost his inner joy. He died February 28, 1955, after complications from gallstone surgery.