Jeanne Dorr

The Delightful Ladies of Rumbonys

Jeanne Dorr, is a member of the Board of Directors of Lithuanian Orphan Care, a branch of the Human Services Council of the Lithuanian American Community, Inc. She is also a Social Studies teacher in New Jersey.

A resident reminisces about her life with her visitors.

My articles usually center around children. They are the ones who have no voice; they don’t vote, and they don’t lobby. But there is another group who shares my heart and they are the elderly. I am especially concerned about the people who live in the countryside. When I visit them I feel I am stepping back into the past, whirling through a different time zone in a world which no longer exists. My heart aches for those who have outlived their families or are trying to exist in subpoverty standards.

You’ll never see their names in print; they never wrote any great literature; never painted master pieces; or never performed any great roles in the theater. I call them extraordinary because of their courage, strength, and devotion to their families. They are not to be pitied, they would never want that. They are, instead, to be admired: admired for living, for not giving up on life when they had to face one adversity after another. I would like to introduce you to the delightful ladies of Rumbonys.

Their lives have not been a bed of roses. There may have been a rose here and there, but mostly they stepped through the thorns. Despite the fact they are elderly and some are in poor health, they retain a sense of humor. Regardless that their faces are wrinkled and their brows are creased, they still smile.

As usual, I came upon the women in a totally unplanned situation. I was visiting the children of Rumbonys, many of whom are orphans. These children are cared for by Father Gumauskas, a 93 year-old priest, and several Sisters. When I returned from Lithuania in 1996 I wrote about the children in BRIDGES, and one of the first groups to offer help was the Taurus Club and the Ladies Auxiliary of the Taurus from Scranton, Pa. They went beyond the call of duty and these children became their children.

The purpose of my second visit was to take a monetary gift from the club to the Sisters and to take several rolls of pictures of the children; so the members could have a closer look at "their" children. I accompanied each child as they went about performing their chores. The older boys did the jobs of men; while, the girls did jobs appropriate to their age. The Sisters believe in everyone carrying his own weight; there are no couch potatoes or whiners among the group.

We walked through the fields while the little ones pulled weeds and I watched the older ones milk the cows. In spite of their jobs, every child was laughing and happy! One of the girls was telling me about a funny incident that occurred while she was visiting the ladies who lived in a house not far away. The children’s house and the ladies’ house is only separated by a cemetery. It dawned on me that I had never visited the women residents and I asked if this was possible. Of course it was possible, Lithuanians, especially those in the country, never stand on formality and so all things are possible with them.

My young friend, Lina, was only too happy to take me to the house. As we walked through the beautiful, well-tended cemetery, Lina would stop now and then, and explain about a certain person or a particular interesting tombstone. She was a teenager but there wasn’t a question she couldn’t answer. I asked her about her relationship with the ladies. She replied that she loved them because they were part of her family. She had no one else in the world.

She started to laugh when she reminded me that they weren’t always the easiest to get along with or to please. Take the issue of food. The meals were cooked in the house where the children lived and taken to the ladies. The diet usually consisted of foods which did not require a great deal of chewing. Apparently the women could never agree on the quality of the food. It contained too much cream or not enough cream. It was overcooked or it was undercooked. It was too hot or it was too cold. To my amazement this teenager took it all in stride. She expected the litany of complaints and said it was alright. She knew the women loved them. Complaining was just their way of showing love.

We eventually came to a neat house with a lovely wooden gazebo in the back yard. The door wasn’t locked and Lina didn’t knock. She felt very much at home here.

Onute and Donatas talk, joke, and enjoy the visit.

A young Sister explained that most of the ladies were already sleeping. I was a little surprised since it was just a little after 6:30 p.m. As I was walking down the hall, someone said to me, "Genute, come here." As I turned to answer the person who was calling me, I passed an open door and heard someone say, "You can’t have that name. It’s mine." I peaked inside and saw an elderly, tiny woman. Although it was July the weather was cool and she was wearing several sweaters. She appeared almost elflike as she sat on her bed clutching her rosary in work worn hands. But what a twinkle in her eye; she lit up the room.

I gave her a hug and a kiss and sat down on the bed next to her. Neither one of was shy, after all, we shared a name. We spoke for a few minutes and then I walked across the room to meet her roommate. She was also saying her rosary and was dressed in several sweaters. We talked for a few minutes and they asked me if they would see me again. I told them they couldn’t get rid of me even if they tried. And so ended my first visit to the ladies of Rumbonys.

My second visit was a week later and I was traveling with an entourage. My friend, Joann Antanavage, from Philadelphia was with me. She had danced in the dance festival and stayed a week longer in Lithuania. Also along was Vincent Kreder, a fellow teacher from New Jersey, who has taught in Lithuania almost since the beginning of independence. Vince was with the first group of Peace Corps volunteers to go to Lithuania and he continued to stay there and teach. Of course, I am rarely without an Orphan Care child in tow, and so nine year-old Donatas from Alytus was with us, too.

The ladies were all assembled in one room and waiting for us. I told them about the BRIDGES readers and how they are the best and most generous readers on earth. I explained that I would like to write about them. They seemed a little perplexed -- after all, they weren’t famous. A few minutes later I had everyone convinced and we were ready to start. I decided not to use the tape recorder because it sometimes intimidates people. I would simply write quickly and pray to God that I could read my own handwriting when I returned home.

Every group has a leader or spokesperson, and I spotted her the minute I walked in the room. Everyone was sitting along the walls on beds or chairs. Our spokesperson sat alone on a chair in the center of the room.

I asked her to tell me about herself. Her name was Onute and she was born in the Alytus region not far from Rumbonys. She told me she was ninety years and six months old. At the age of seven she started working on the farm. In those days Onute wore wooden shoes When she didn’t have those, she worked barefoot even though there was snow on the ground.

She spoke of living through the horrors of war. She had four brothers and one sister and had outlived them all. Onute never married but she wanted me to know it wasn’t because she wasn’t pretty. She left the room and returned carrying a black and white wrinkled photograph of herself when she was a young woman. She really was a beauty: tall with very dark hair. She was still a beautiful woman. Despite her age, she carried herself with grace.

Onute insisted that she and I sing a song together. I told her I had a terrible voice and couldn’t carry a tune. There was no way she was going to let me get out of this. We finally agreed on an old folk song that my grandmother taught me many years ago. The duet barely started when she held up her hand and told me to stop. "You’re right," she said, "you can’t carry a tune. I’ll finish it alone." The duet now became a solo. So much for diplomacy.

She was ready to continue with her interview but I whispered to her that maybe I should talk to the other ladies who were patiently and quietly waiting their turns. Deep down I knew I met my match with Onute. I also knew I hadn’t heard the end from her.

I turned to Genute who was now my new friend. She and her roommate had a little more importance in the group because we had already met. This seemed to increase their social stature. Genute was her own sweet self. Maybe I was a little partial toward her or maybe it was because of the workout I had just been through with Onute, but I felt more at ease.

Genute had very little education because it was considered unimportant in those days. To educate a woman, especially one who would be working on a farm, was a waste of time. She had two sons and she buried them both, as well as her husband and the rest of her family. All she could remember clearly is that she never stopped working from sun up to sun down. Through her story she still had that twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.

Monika couldn’t remember too much of anything including how old she was. She knew she was born in the village of Rumbonys. She never married and her four sisters were dead. But like Genute, she remembered working the soil her entire life, until she could no longer bend.

At this point Onute needed my attention again. I had a feeling we were away from her too long. She wanted my watch because her alarm clock was broken. Sister later told me her alarm clock wasn’t broken because she never had one. I told her I couldn’t give her the watch because I wouldn’t know what time it was to be able to be at certain places. She thought about it for a moment and seemed to accept it. But she accepted it only for a moment. Now she wanted my glasses! I had to patiently explain to her that if I didn’t have the glasses I couldn’t see the numbers on the watch. Once again, she gave it some thought and agreed my reasoning was logical. At this point, I figured I better hold on to the fillings in my teeth. Genute leaned over and whispered to me not to pay attention to the requests. I figured we still weren’t finished but went on to the other ladies.

Albina’s father worked for a very rich Lithuanian farmer. His sisters had fled to Belarus and apparently were always in need of their brother’s help. They wanted him to bring his daughter and live in Belarus but he refused. He was a Lithuanian and he would live in Lithuania. In addition to his four sisters, her father also had two brothers. Albina was proud that her father was there for all of them when they needed him. She married a farmer and they had one daughter. Her daughter died in a drowning accident when she was fourteen. Albina continued to work on the farm. Later she would also work in the railroad station, a job she held for more than thirty years.

I was starting to see a definite pattern. The ladies wanted to talk about their parents and siblings but only a few mentioned their husbands.

Ona was born in the Alytus area but didn’t know how old she was. She did remember that she was born in 1910. She asked me to figure out how old she was and to let her know her age. She was married but had no children. Her husband died in 1981. Like the rest of the women, her memories were filled with work on the farm.

Marta was also from the Alytus area. Her husband was deported to Siberia and she never saw him again. She was left to raise 13 children alone. Some of her children are dead. She remembered that her sons came to visit her while she worked on the collective farm, but she couldn’t recall the last time she saw them.

Onute once again required my attention. She had given the situation some more thought. If she couldn’t have my glasses maybe she could have Joann’s. I explained to her that Joann could probably see less than I could without her glasses. I was thinking that Onute could most likely see better without her glasses than we could see with them.

Ona was born in Prienai. She didn’t know how old she was. She had been married and had two sons. The first one died at the age of two and the second at the age of three. Both died from childhood diseases. She didn’t know what the sickness was but she remembered that many young children died of the same illness.

Elena was born in the Alytus area in 1912. At the age of eighteen she married a farmer and they remained married for fifty years until his death. They had five children; three of them were dead. She had very little education but couldn’t remember exactly how much. Her husband attended school for four years before he started to work. Elena’s daughter was well educated, in fact, she spoke seven languages. She had an important job and lived in Vilnius. Many times she invited her mother to live with her but Elena did not want to live in a big city.

She was happy in her own house until she broke her arm. There were complications and she remained in the hospital for nine months. When she was released, she was surprised to learn that her bills were unpaid. She said "they" took her house from her. When I asked who "they" were, she couldn’t seem to answer me. When I asked why her children didn’t take care of the house, she was also at a loss for words. All she kept saying was that her arm was useless. A few minutes later she told me she was afraid to live alone.

All the women agreed on one thing and that was that they were grateful for the good home and loving care they were receiving. They especially cherished the company of the children. They told me when many of them were sick at the same time, the older children would come and spend the night with them. They often sat up the entire night holding the women’s hands or praying with them. They were all in the same situation; they had no one except each other.

There appeared to be a slight commotion between ninety year-old Onute and nine year-old Donatas. Onute proposed marriage to Donatas and suggested they have the wedding soon. I offered to buy the wedding gown and host the reception. Donatas kept shaking his head "no." Onute pretended to look offended as she asked him if she might be a few years too old for him. Of course not, Donatas explained. He was going to be a priest and that was the only reason that he could not marry her. As she sat looking at him with a grim face, it finally dawned on him that it was joke and he joined the rest of us in having a good laugh. It is a rare child of nine who can laugh at himself and that is one reason Donatas is so special.

As we prepared to leave, I hugged each lady and asked permission to take their photographs. I also asked each one if they needed anything and they all shyly demurred saying, they had everything they needed -- all except one.

Onute told me she would love to have a box of chocolates. I told her that was not a problem but I would have to check with Sister before I left. I wanted to be sure she had no diet restrictions. She seemed offended that I could possibly think there was something she couldn’t eat. As I bent to kiss her, she told me to look in the hall and see if Sister was there. After I took a peek I told her the coast was clear. She brought my head even with hers and whispered that chocolates are not as good without a nice glass of wine. She wanted to remind me to bring some wine on my next visit. This time I had to be firm with her. In a cowardly manner I blamed Sister Elvyra. I told Onute that if I brought wine to the home Sister would be angry with me, but I did promise her I would be back with the chocolates.

Before I left, I spoke to the Sisters and asked them what was most necessary. They need anything medical that helps elderly people. Although they get some help from the government, it is not always what they need. There is a need for aspirin, over the counter pain medication for arthritis, muscle rub, medication to help with sleep. Of course, there is always a need for money. I have spoken to several organizations who have been very helpful in sending some of the needed items. If you can help in any way, please contact me. My address appears at the end of this article.

A week later I returned with a box of chocolates for each lady. They were all seated at the table finishing dinner when I walked into the room. They were delighted to see me, not for the chocolates but just for myself. I will never know how it happened so fast but Onute ended up with all the candy. Sister very firmly pried it away from her and told her the gifts were for everyone. She seemed a little taken back with that statement. She did manage to ask me if that was all I could come up with. I gave her wink and told her that was it -- only chocolates!

I want to thank all who made my visits to Rumbonys so pleasant. Father Gumauskas and the Sisters, who despite having material goods, saw the need to help those less fortunate. I can only say that these people are saints who are living on earth. They give so much and ask for nothing in return. The children must be thanked for their love and patience in caring for the ladies. They also give of themselves and ask for nothing. But my sincere thanks to the ladies of Rumbonys for showing me the spirit and love of true Lithuanian women.

The story has a sad note. After I returned home from Lithuania I received word that Onute died. I am sure the children will feel her loss the most because they have lost one of their "grandmothers." But if I listen carefully I can hear Onute giving orders in heaven. Rest in peace, dear Onute, perhaps you can now find peace.

If you can help please contact me.

Jeanne Dorr
4 Shrewsbury Yard
Riverton, N.J.08077

All photos courtesy Jeanne Dorr.