Dancing Under the Red Star (39 page)

The very first thing I did when we stepped off the ship was kneel down and kiss the boards of the pier. I was really and truly home again. I had come full circle!

EPILOGUE

by Karl Tobien

Don’t you want to be there, don’t you want to know?

Where the grace and simple truth of childhood go

Don’t you want to be there when the trumpets blow

Blow for those born into hunger,

Blow for those lost ’neath the train

Blow for those choking in anger

Blow for those driven insane

And those you have wronged, you know

You need to let them know some way

And those who have wronged you, know

You’ll have to let them go someday.

Don’t you want to be there?

Don’t you want to see where the angels appear

Don’t you want to be where there’s strength and love

In the place of fear.

—Jackson Browne, “Don’t You Want to Be There”

M
argaret Werner Tobien was the only American woman known to have survived the Siberian slave-labor camps of twentieth-century Stalinist Russia, to have escaped from exile, and to have returned to the United States.

I am the child who was born to Margaret and Günter Tobien on January 27, 1956, in northern Siberia. I am a child of each of them, and as shadow and light are separate but merge in the twilight, I am a child of both of them. I escaped with them through the iron curtain into freedom on that historic day. And as I think back upon my life, I recall sorrows and joys and new beginnings, and I continually think of my mother. As I consider this miraculous legacy of how I came to be, I miss her more and more.

I was there, though I do not remember, on that glorious day in November 1961 when she knelt down and kissed the pier of her home in America. Through the years I saw this woman who had been denied many things live her life to its absolute fullest. I remember most her joyous expectancy and constant excitement about life, the exuberance of her personality.

I grew up listening to, and sometimes only overhearing, the stories my mother shared with others about her life and trials in Russia. For most of my life, I never took the time to explore this history or to ask her questions. I was a child and then a young man in utter disarray, busy being fearful, resentful, and bitter. As an outsider in many ways, I was unsettled, rebellious, and angry about what I believed I lacked. The reality was that I lacked for nothing except character, maturity—and God. I never imagined that I would want to write this chronicle of my mother’s extraordinary survival.

Margaret Werner Tobien experienced horror and sorrow during the course of her life to degrees the human heart would rather not consider. Still, she prevailed when most others did not. Why was that? Was it luck? I don’t think so; neither did she. Rather, I think it was because of something very special she had inside, something not easily explained.

Returning to America in 1961 with little more than the clothes on our backs, she began again. She built a new life for us, virtually unassisted and from scratch. She was forty years old, but she never wore her past around her neck like a ribbon, a trophy, or a yoke, never sought sympathy or public acknowledgment. Her life was nothing like that. Meeting her for the first time, no one would have guessed the nature of her past. She never had a hard-luck story to tell. Her presence exuded warmth, energy, and eternal optimism.

While I was growing up, I recall a couple of special men in her life—everyone was attracted to her—but apparently there were no more Nikolais, and she never remarried. She always attempted to fill the place of the father I really never had. In fact, it was my grandmother, Elisabeth Werner, who was more like a mother to me. After all, she was half of the family where Margaret got her “stuff.” And that was our small family during my childhood.

During the early years of our return, it became clear to Margaret that her dream of attending medical school and becoming a doctor was no longer possible. Though she often spoke of that heartfelt longing, she had to work to support her family. I consider that her life, like that of Job in the Bible, was not fair to her; she was dealt a bad hand and endured great pain and sadness. Nevertheless, she always made the most of what was available, a trait she had perfected during her formative years in Russia.

She worked for many years as a lab technician and draftsperson for an electronics company in Cincinnati. She was directly responsible, though not credited, for many innovative, technically sophisticated designs and drawings for video circuitry components. These state-of-the-art concepts were widely utilized in the television industry and in many recent media applications.

During her later years, my mother used her artistic aptitude and flair for the creative in the ceramic arts. She entered and won a variety of national ceramics contests. Remember her innovative contributions in the Russian camps? She became well known for her distinctive ideas and amazed people with her inimitable ingenuity and concern for perfection. Her craft always left people with their mouths open in admiration.

Several years after her retirement, she volunteered at Cincinnati’s Jewish Community Center as a translator for the many Russian Jews immigrating to the United States through our city. I remember how dearly she loved them and the deep compassion she always had for the Russian people. She had an uncompromising, unconditional love for people that extended far beyond arbitrary surface deeds that others often do for show.

I could write another book about all the wonderful things she did during the thirty-five years of her life after returning to America—the years I knew her. God created a very special one here; there will never be another woman like Margaret Werner Tobien.

As I consider her profound touch on so many lives, before and after the troubled years of this story, and the eternal gifts she left us, I now understand that her life truly was, as she once described it, a “full circle.” It didn’t end the day she returned to America. Nor did it end when her physical body stopped working. Her life goes on, even today, around and upward—like a rising spiral, extending far beyond us. She was much more than the mere survivor of a certain time in history. She was an American patriot, with a red-white-and-blue heart, a champion through and through.

Even if she had not been my mother, I would still prize her. She was uniquely gifted, multitalented, and articulate (actually brilliant), and these talents were part of the most genuinely thoughtful, kind, compassionate, and naturally loving person I have ever known. All those wonderful things are true, but they barely scratch the surface of her true self. In addition to the spiritual certainties she came to understand, accept as her own, and treasure so deeply, she also believed strongly in the personal power and ability of every human being. Her own life demonstrated this belief.

I suspect she was much like her father, Carl Werner, whom of course I never knew. I do know that she was much like her mother, Elisabeth Werner, whom I did know, and I thank God for that. I know firsthand the qualities that Elisabeth passed on to her daughter.

My grandmother was always the talk of the neighborhood kids. She defied the natural limits of a woman’s physical ability well into her eighties, and she defied the normal limits of human kindness toward everyone she encountered. She was deeply loved and cherished, not only by every kid on the block, but by everyone who knew her for miles around. In their hearts, she was everyone’s grandma. As a young child, I noticed people always watching her in disbelief: shoveling snow, mowing grass, climbing ladders, painting the house, and every other chore imaginable. She could dig up and replant an entire backyard garden from scratch. And that was all before lunch! And guess who made lunch? I’ve never seen such physical resiliency or determination in any other person, regardless of age or gender. You just had to see her to believe her.

After a long hard day at play on the local ball fields, all my friends would scramble to come back home with me, if they could. The reason? Elisabeth Werner was also the best cook on the planet. (She now has competition from my dear wife.) We’re talking cheeseburgers to die for and, unlike their Russian counterparts, the best potatoes you could eat, in whatever form she prepared them.

I loved Elisabeth Werner more than I can say. And it was through her that I encountered the Creator of all things, the Lord Jesus Christ, in a personal, life-changing way. She was near death, in a comatose state, when I sat with her in a hospital room on April 12, 1984. On that day I witnessed the awesome resurrection power of God: he instantly raised her up before my eyes and gave her more years to live, and he raised my desperately empty and longing spirit along with her. I saw the irrefutable power of God in this absolute miracle. I had no idea that such things were possible, and if I had not been there, I would never have believed it to be true. But I
was
there and with my own eyes beheld the glory of the Lord. Now I am a believer, because now I know.

My grandmother went
home
to heaven in 1987 to be with her beloved husband, Carl. And if I had to guess, I’d say there’s a good chance she’s in charge of the kitchen!

Cast in the same mold was my mother. Margaret Werner was definitely Elisabeth’s daughter. And in her integrity, she showed the trait her father always held in such high regard. It wasn’t integrity for the sake of fashion or display; it was a foundational godlike integrity for its own sake. Surely her lifelong experiences and the strength of character she always exemplified had much to do with her ability to influence others. When you met her, you were drawn to whatever she had to say to you.

My mother had many things to say to me over the years. However, of all the wisdom she possessed and passed on, the most simple yet compelling thing she ever said was, “Karl, just be good to people. That’s all. It will not be wasted, and it will always come back to you. If there’s nothing else you remember from me, then please remember this; it will suit you well.”