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It Began with a Mitten

A Healing Journey of an Unexpected Kind I am a daughter of an immigrant. My mother was born in a DP camp in Germany.  Right after the occupation and the war. 
My Vecmamina (Latvian for Grandma) took care of my as a young child. We had a special bond.  I have memories of my grandfather's tailor shop in NE Minneapolis. It was filled with cloth and sewing machines and wonderful jars of buttons. My grandpa was a jovial man, with a loud booming laugh that people remembered. 

My family always talked about Latvia, but as a young girl it was a far away place filled with birch trees, ladies dressed in pretty folk costumes that sang and ate Latvian bacon rolls all day. My grandma knit. She made all of us grandchildren mittens and socks. It was magical. 
Ingebretsen's shop in Minneapolis hosted a Latvian Ethnographic Mitten Exhibition and Latvian History talk this week-end.  Some planning brought my Aunt Zinta into town so we could attend this event together. I knew there would be beauti…

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