My Tree, My Life

MYMTREE e f i yL Rooted in a homestead near Fulda, Germany, branched out in the USA, and blossomed in the world...

Helga Babetta Clark with Elizabeth K Peters

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My Tree, My Life Standing in silent starlight, the wind carries a crimson leaf to my feet.

Love letter from a nearby tree.

Dr. SunWolf

by

Helga Babetta Knüttel Smith Clark with Elizabeth Peters © 2019 DeSoto, Texas

Helga Babetta KnĂźttel Born April 28, 1937 Fulda, Germany

Me as a toddler, holding a blossom from my tree

CHAPTER 1

The Old Homestead

Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I wondered why Mutti got me out of bed so early today. She stood me up on the kitchen chair.

“Helga, put your arms up,” she ordered, and pulled a royal blue dress over my head. Mutti smoothed the sleeves and straightened the yoke embroidered with tiny white flowers. I examined the raised stitching with my inquisitive fingers, and wondered what special occasion this might be.

Mutti carried me, and Papa told Alfons to bring the suitcase and Frieda to carry the lunch box. “Hurry, we’ll never find seats together on the train”, he said.

My head bounced on Mutti’s shoulder, and I watched the big gray and stone house and the tree that stood between the house and the barn disappear as we headed to Fulda and the train station.

That tree! It was the only tree on the hillside, surrounded by acres and acres of fields. There were lots of trees in and around Fulda, but here, where I lived, this tree stood prominently like a Kaiser over the farmlands.

The next thing I knew, Alfons was struggling with the suitcase up the steps of the snorting train while Papa found seats for Mutti and Frieda. I had to sit on the suitcase between Alfons and another family I didn’t know. Then it was off to Berlin, to visit my uncle, aunt and cousin.

When we left for home, Papa carried the suitcase, because 5

We lived at Oberziehrs am Watchelweg on the outskirts of Fulda in the valley of the RhĂśn mountains, and could see parts of the city from our fields.

ďƒŒ Fulda, Hesse, Germany

The homestead on the ranch near Fulda. My special tree can be seen between the buildings.

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Alfons carefully transported a treasure just for me - a doll house, given to me by my cousin.

Alfons nudged me from the breakfast table. “Come on, Helga,” he said. “I want to get to school early today to turn in a report.”

I was happy to go. Frieda was thirteen years older than me and ignored me most of the time. Alfons was eight years older, and considered himself my caretaker. He used to push me in the stroller, but now I was big enough to walk the mile, although it was hard to keep up with him. I remembered the time he pushed me along the dirt lane, struggling over the bumps and holes. When we got to the sidewalk in town, he picked me up, got into the stroller with me on his lap, and coasted down the hill. It was a good thing it had four sturdy wheels.

The nuns at the nursery school greeted their littlest student with a smile. Their starched white cornettes bobbed as they nodded and shooed us kids into the pleasant school room. Alfons went on to the ranch to help milk the cows. I found my favorite toys and my favorite friends.

After a lunch, we took a nap, but not until after the dreaded tonic. I hated the fishy smell and the bitter taste of the cod liver oil dosed from what seemed to me a spoon as large as the dipper at our well!

One time, my mother invited the nuns and all of my classmates to our house for my birthday. There were special drinks and cakes.

School in Fulda

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Frieda, Papa, Mutti, and Mutti’s sister.

I was so proud to show everybody from town my open fields, barn, homestead and of course, my tree.

Today, my friend said I should go to his house after school, because he had a new wooden train. Of course I wanted to see it, so I followed him home and played for an hour or so, then thought I’d better head home. I must have turned right instead of left, or left instead of right, because soon I was lost in a maze of buildings. I looked around and around for the hill outside of town that would lead me back, but all I could see was rooftops. I sat down on a step and cried.

“Well, well, what’s the matter?” asked a friendly voice.

“I am lost!” I sobbed. “I live on the ranch outside of town and I can’t find my way out of here!”

I am in the center at bottom and Alfons is next to me.

Statue of St. Boniface, founder of Fulda, across from the Castle.

Papa (Karl) was born in the the Rhön mountains on February 20, 1894 at Gersfeld.

The homestead where he and his two brothers and two sisters grew up has been in his family for over a hundred years. The old stone house, a barn and a little bake house sit on a hill beside a cherry orchard. Uncle Adam, Papa’s oldest brother, lived there with his wife Frieda, and I loved to visit them. Their son Willi still has that house.

My mother, Rosa, was born in Wuestensachsen, a village in the Rhön mountains November 7, 1900. She had four sisters and three brothers.

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My grandparents on both sides had passed away by the time I was a year old.

“Oh, my!” said the voice, and a strong hand took mine and led me to the village police station. I stayed there until my oldest sister, Paula, came to take me home.

“Helga, what ever were you thinking?” scolded Paula. “I had to leave the ranch kitchen in the middle of dinner preparations, and they aren’t too pleased with me.”

No matter what she said, I was happy to see her. She carried me back like a rucksack.

Mutti was the first one up the next morning, as she always was. Papa had coughed most of the night, and he wearily came to the kitchen looking for a little coffee. She scoured the stove top and poked in several chunks of wood with a few pieces of paper to ignite a fire.

On top of the flame, she put some coal and replenished it as needed through the day. This big black stove was the heart of our home, heating our water, warming the house, cooking the meals and canning for the winter.

The steaming big teakettle and a couple of irons lived on its spacious surface. Often our white clothes would soak overnight in a huge pot, and Mutti boiled them the next day to keep them snowy white.

“Alfons!” Mutti shouted into the bedroom. “I Franz and Paula need that bucket of water- now! And Frieda- you too, with Mutti, Papa and me.

I need you to help me.” Alfons appeared in a few minutes to tote the bucket out to the well below the house, where he would hang it on the hook, let it down to the water level, and then wind the heavy bucket back up to carry inside.

It was late in the summer and Mutti had a lot of work ahead for the day. Beets and carrots had to be canned, the barrel of sauerkraut checked down in the cellar, and the garden harvested for whatever else might be ready. We had a huge garden and grew just about everything: cauliflower, brussel sprouts, onion, leaf lettuce, English peas, large red kidney beans, and cucumbers.

Mutti loved her flowers, especially asters, which she grew in all colors. There were marigolds, too, beside the currant bushes and my favorite, the gooseberries. Mutti worked so hard, taking care of all this, and also helping on the ranch, especially during seeding and harvest.

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Papa helped as he could, which wasn’t much. His severe asthma made him an invalid, and he had to stop and catch his breath often.

“Helga, after breakfast I want you to go to the main ranch and get some yeast from Paula,” said Mutti. I was delighted.

We lived at Oberziehrs am Watchelweg on the outskirts of Fulda in the valley of the Rhön mountains and could see parts of the city from our fields. Two Polish families shared our homestead and the work on the ranch known as Domäne Ziehers. Upstairs over our apartment lived my best friend, Elisabeth and her brother Jupp, who was Alfon’s best friend. Another young family occupied another section of the big house. They had two boys, David and Juschu.

We had three rooms. We lived mostly in the large kitchen.

There was a small living room for special occasions and company.

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In the bedroom, there were two matching double beds and two large closets which were ample storage for the few clothes we owned.

Our homestead and the main ranch was built in the early 1500’s.

Through hundreds of years, its ownership passed from barons to High Church officials to monks. At one point in the monks’ ownership, a baron saw the beauty of the area and offered to buy the homestead and surrounding acreage to build a castle. The monks refused, and he built the Adolphseck Castle in another area near Fulda.

There was one other homestead on the ranch. The beautiful main building was about a mile and a half away. That house, leased by the Reinersmans, was built around a courtyard with an opening for a car or wagon. There were several huge barns with stalls for the

animals, and also some apartments for families that worked there. It was opererated privately until 1954 when the city of Fulda bought the property and land.

Paula, my married sister, worked with several other women in the ranch kitchen and cooked for all the people who worked there.

I was always crazy about Paula. My parents were not too happy with her marriage to Franz. They thought she could have found a better husband than a Polish Zwangsarbeiter. These forced laborers under the Hitler regime received much lower wages and worked longer hours than their German counterparts.

I took my time walking through the meadows to the ranch. The horses and cows were quietly grazing on the dewy grasses. I loved animals. Alfons told me when I was really small, I caught two chicks, one in each hand. I held them by the neck so tightly that when he took them from my clenched fingers, they were lifeless.

There were several mares with foals in the meadow. I approached a soft brown fuzzy hide. “Come here, little horse,” I whispered, and touched his nose. It was soft as Mutti’s velvet church shawl. I petted him and talked to him a while, then remembered Mutti would be waiting for the yeast and I’d better keep moving.

At the ranch, there were about a dozen “summer” girls still working until the last harvest. One walked in with me, her arms full of sugar beets. Paula and the cooks made apple pancakes for early breakfast, and I was treated to a couple of extras. The older couple who leased the ranch, the Reinermans, were always pleasant and generous and everybody liked them. However, one of their sons, Werner, didn’t have his parents’ graciousness. He was handsome, but the girls avoided him because he ordered them around.

When I was sure there was not one more apple pancake for me, I left Paula with the yeast in hand, pausing in the garden to swish my hand in the fountain and watch the goldfish swimming. Werner rode by me on his horse, dressed in a riding outfit and carrying a leather whip.

I ignored him, then ran part way home, passing the other homestead where my friend Ursula lived, wishing I could stop in and play a while.

Ursula was one of 14 children. Her mother was outside and a toddler was standing next to her with her breast in his mouth. I had never seen anything like that before and hurried on. There was a busy day ahead, and Mutti was waiting.

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I loved baking day. Mutti never measured anything, whether yeast for raised doughs or baking powder for cakes. She scooped the butter and sugar into a big bowl and cracked the eggs into the mixture.

“Your turn, Helga!” she said. And I would stir and stir until everything was blended; then Frieda took over to continue beating it with a long wooden spoon. The dough had to be creamy and thick, and it took a lot of strength and energy to get it right. We made several small cakes from that batch and finished them off in our small oven.

The yeast dough was a different story. Mutti started it early in the morning. By midmorning it was ready to shape. We helped her smooth it onto huge metal cookie sheets. Frieda had chopped the apples and pitted the cherries, and I got to mix up the streusel. Mutti assembled the creation, starting with a custard over the dough, and topping it with fruit and streusel.

“Now, Helga,” directed Mutti, “carry these cakes to the bakery, and take care you don’t stumble with those pans!” Mutti turned back to cleaning up the kitchen, and I lifted the cookie sheet. I was so little, that I had to put the pan at my side next to my waist and my hand on the other side with my arm straight out. We had to walk carefullly to the bakery in town about a half mile away.

Our cast iron stove, though our family’s heart and sustenance, could only accommodate small baking pans, so the large cakes and cookie sheets had to be baked in town, where there was a very large oven.

When I got to the bakery, I had to wait my turn because it was baking day for other families, too. I left the trays and walked home, only to return later and pick them up again when the cakes were finished. But oh, it was worth the trouble. Mutti’s cakes were delicious, and we had company coming on Sunday afternoon for coffee and dessert.

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CHAPTER 2

Sunday

Today was the best day of the week. I woke up in our warm house with the aroma of pork being browned for Sunday dinner and the sound of church bells ringing. Jumping up out of bed, I opened one of the two large wardrobes in our bedroom, the one that held my Sunday clothes.

We each had three or four outfits, one being the ONLY Sunday one, and Mutti had them neatly hanging in place. Mutti always reminded us that “There is a place for everything, and everything should be in its place!”

She worked hard to keep us looking good. We usually wore our clothes for one week. An apron helped keep them clean, and we did change our aprons more often. Washing the laundry took a long hard day. Sometimes Mutti would soak white sheets and towels overnight in a big tub. In the morning she rinsed them, put them in a huge pot that had to be filled with buckets of water from the well. Then the linens would boil on our kitchen stove.

Mutti was very proud of her laundry. White collars and blouses were dampened, and laid out to be bleached by the sun. If weather permitted the wash was hung on the line. If it was raining, snowing, or freezing, the clothes would hang in the attic of our homestead until dry.

A few times, the weather surprised us and the clothes froze on the line, and we would carefully bring them in so they wouldn’t break.

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Finally, the black cast irons were heated on the stove, and the clothes were tediously pressed. When one iron cooled off with use, it would go back on the stovetop and another one taken that was hot and ready to use.

Laundry was somewhat dependent upon the weather. When it was pleasant and breezy, Mutti laid the featherbeds and our pillows in the windows. They would fluff up and smell fresh when we snuggled into them that night.

Last night everyone in the family had a bath, as was our Saturday custom. The big laundry tub doubled as a bathtub. Alfons toted in buckets of water which was heated on the stove and poured into the tub. A sheet was draped around two chairs for privacy, and the ritual began with me, the youngest. I always got in the tub first, then

Our stove was the center of operations at home; for heat, cooking, and laundry.

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Alfons used the same water for his bath. Then the others followed. The rest of the week, it was sponge baths.

I dressed in my Sunday best and with my hightop shoes, pigtails and my Sunday apron, I was the picture perfect German school girl.

Mutti wore her pretty Sunday apron, too.

When I was about 7 years old, a lot of preparations were made for my first Communion. I was dressed in white everything, and everything was new. From inside out, I was dressed in white. I had new white underwear, socks, shoes and my dress. I carried a large white

candle with a lacy handkerchief and had a flower ring for my hair. We had a big party, and I got lots of presents.

Mutti made a lot of my clothes. We dressed in layers in those days. I had to wear bloomers and an undershirt, then something like a yoke of a slip that had suspenders on it to hold up my socks. Then, a slip went on top of all that before I pulled my dress over my head.

And of course, an apron always finished off the layers to save my dress from getting too dirty.

I was quite proud of a beautiful royal blue suit that Mutti knitted for me. It had white flowered borders around the bottom of a full skirt and also outlining the front of the cardigan.

She knitted gloves with each finger a perfect fit. She knitted some wool socks that echoed that song by Dolly Parton, “My coat of many colors my Mama made for me.” These socks were stripes of two to three inches of one color, and then another would start. They matched each other in hues of browns and greys and tans until they were at dress length, then the colors came from whatever scraps of yarn Mutti had left. The yarn came from unravelling old knitted things, rolling up the threads and reusing it.

After Sunday church and lunch, we changed our clothes and took off for the woods.

Alfons pulled the handwagon, which was like a My tree, blooming in the spring. horse drawn wagon, only smaller. Passing our tree, I admired the beautiful white flowers that had blossomed after the leaves appeared. Blueberries were ready to pick, and Mutti needed everybody to help. It was quite a long walk, but I liked to be outdoors, and ran races along the way with Alfons.

“Here we are,” said Mutti and handed everyone a container for the berries.

It was easier for me; I didn’t have to bend over so far to pick the berries from the low bushes. After a few hours, everyone complained that their backs hurt. I picked a lot of berries, and I ate a lot. Mutti had packed some bread and cheese and water and we sat on the grass and 15

German Folk Tales Legends and accounts of folk beliefs have had an appeal to adults and children alike, and this appeal lasted the whole of the nineteenth century. These consisted of magical characters, witches, dwarves, elves and giants. The Brothers Grimm pursued a lifelong dedication to collecting German folk tales such as Snow White and Sleeping Beauty.

rested before carrying our bounty home.

Mutti spent the next day with blueberries. “Alfons, get me a bucket from the well!” she ordered, getting ready to wash them.

“And Helga, you can help me sort them.” After hours of work there were jars of jelly and jars of canned berries cooling on the table, ready to store in our section of the shared cellar. I thought of the cooked cream of wheat cereal we would have tomorrow morning with blueberries on top.

Mutti kept us happy with her good food. We had lots of soups and pancakes during the week. Vegetable soup was created from all the fresh garden produce. Another soup was lentil with dumplings. My favorite was potato soup on Saturdays with potato pancakes.

She made egg noodles, rolling them out very thin and laying them all over the kitchen to dry. Then she would roll them up and spread them out to dry again.

Everybody loved Mutti’s cooking. She could roast a rabbit, stuff a chicken and make delicious gravy to finish it off. We always had plenty to eat, even during war times, as long as we lived on the old homestead. Our cellar was stocked with Mutti’s bounty of potatoes, onions, blueberries, cherries, pickled beets and other vegetables.

Beside the shelves of preserves, sauerkraut bubbled in a big barrel.

As far back as I can remember, Mutti took care of everything.

With Papa being so sick, she was the head of our household. Besides all the household tasks of washing, cleaning, cooking, baking, sewing 16

and knitting, Mutti worked on the ranch when necessary.

Her attitude toward others was always to see the good first. If there was bad- she balanced it with seeing the good first.

But things had to be done, and she had a temper that could get away from her in an hurry. When her hand landed on you, you took notice. Once she had a wooden spoon in her hand, and I received a smack right on the mouth for talking back.

Sunday, after church, we enjoyed our roast pork dinner. Afternoons we might pick blueberries or visit with friends. We spent the evening hours relaxing.

A remarkable woman, Mutti was not just about working and cooking and washing.

We had a wonderful phonograph that brought music into our homestead apartment.

“I’ll turn the handle to get it started!”

Alfons enthusiatically shouted. We had songs and games and played cards.

“Tell us a story, Mutti!” I asked.

Sometimes Mutti would tell stories she inherited from her parents and grandparents.

“This is a true story,” she would start.

The characters were often demons and the devil and they were spellbinding to hear inside Mutti our stone walls with the candles flickering and the petroleum lamps dimmed.

“There was a jealous woman,” spoke Mutti, “and she found a way to take vengeance on the man who abandoned her.” Alfons and I drew closer to listen as her voice became barely a whisper. “Every night she turned into a cat and crept into his room. While he lay asleep, she would lay on his chest and weaken his lungs...”

She finished the story and sent us off to bed. We visited one of the three outhouses (one for each family) between the house and barn before climbing into bed so we wouldn’t have to use the chamber pot during the night. And that night, I made sure the cat was in the barn.

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My Godfather picking cherries beside his house

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CHAPTER 3

Harvest

The fresh air was crisp and cool. The leaves on my tree were turning yellow and thinning out. Alfons and I walked to school along the sides of the fields as usual, but it seemed like an unusual day. The rye and wheat swayed in the breezes, full of life. On the borders of the fields were wildflowers.

“Wait, Alfons!” I said and bent to pluck a blue kornflower. “I want to take flowers to my teacher today,” I continued. A bit further there were daisies, and I saw a poppy that just begged to go along as well.

Alfons always waited for me, patient with his little sister’s fancies. I loved the fields, the hills, the sky, the flowers. Everything was beautiful to me. I couldn’t see enough; I examined everything.

I couldn’t hear enough; I listened to the wind and the sounds of the animals. I couldn’t smell enough of the fragrances of the fields and flowers. And I wanted to touch everything, whether it was the soft fur of a calf, the cool shock of spring water, the rugged density of a rock in the road, or a feathery brush of a spray of wheat. Sometimes on my walk to school I carried a sprig of wheat or rye a long time before I would let it fall.

It was a time when the crystal clear rain truly washed the windows. The town’s two clothing factories, three candle facilities and a tire manufacturer did not dirty the valley’s air in the least.

At that time there was no trash pickup, no garbage management 19

Basic Nettle Sauté 1 small bag of nettle, 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 small onion, chopped, 2 cloves garlic, chopped 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar or lemon juice Salt and pepper to taste Gather fresh greens, wash and chop into small pieces with scissors. In a medium-sized sauté pan with a lid, sauté onions and garlic in olive oil until onions are translucent. Add nettles and vinegar or lemon juice.

Cover for a couple of minutes then stir. Sauté until greens are tender – about 5 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Nettles

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because we had no garbage. We used everything, and nothing was wasted or disposable. Food was not packaged. We brought our own handbag or a net bag as we shopped. We bought just what we needed at the time. The butcher would wrap a piece of meat in brown paper and put it in our tote. I usually tucked a four pound loaf of crusty rye bread under my arm. If I was hungry, I just nibbled at the end of it on the way home. We brought our own container for milk, one with a handle on it and no lid. I could swing it around real fast and not lose a drop.

We had a special place in the garden for compost where we dumped the vegetable peelings and other food waste. It rotted and became fertilizer for Mutti’s garden. Potato peelings were cooked, mixed with grain and fed to the pig, fattening him up to be dinner after a while. On the left side of our homestead, underneath the first floor, was a stall for the animals. Every family got a pig once a year, and it was slaughtered in the fall. We also had chickens and plenty of eggs. Rabbits were not pets, but were served at Sunday dinner as often as chickens. In the attic, Mutti had a cabinet with screens where she stored smoked meats, sausages, lunch meats and lard.

In the spring, we picked dandelions before their bloom for a delicious salad. Now, in early autumn, dandelions were long gone, but

we would look for a second cropping of nettles that grew behind the barn. I didn’t know it then, but nettles are really nutritious, one of the superfoods that provide iron, vitamins and even protein. If we picked them without gloves, their stinging stems left burning blisters. Mutti told us to only pick the tender top leaves. She would let them wilt, then strip off the leaves and boil them like spinach. I thought it was even better than spinach.

At harvest time, Mutti worked on the ranch as well as kept up with her own garden and the animals. Mutti could lift a bale of straw or a 100 pound sack of grain. The grain was cut, wrapped in bundles, and several bundles stood up together like little huts. Days later, the bundles were loaded on wagons and taken to the threshing machine at the main ranch. That machine was so noisy we could hear it at our homestead.

The process of separating the grain from the husks filled the air with fine particles. Papa suffered even more with his asthma during the harvest.

The kids, including me, played hide and seek behind the little huts of bundles in the fields. We scurried in our bare feet across the stubbled ground when it was cooler in the evening. When the straw was in the barn, we would play “Catch Me” under the rafters.

One evening, Mutti had worked all day in the fields. She walked home, exhausted. A tractor slowly drove beside her, and hanging on the side was a rusty, dirty doll buggy. It was mine.

Many months before, Mutti had traded food for stamps in Fulda.

Because of the war, families were issued ration stamps for specific foods, like eggs, milk, flour and meat. You still had to pay for the food, but you could only buy what you had stamps for. Other stamps were for general merchandise, and you couldn’t just purchase something; you had to have a ration stamp to cover your purchase. People who lived in rural areas had some advantage over the city population since they could produce their own food.

Mutti bought a doll buggy for me when she was able to get the right stamps. It was mint green and caned with wicker on the sides. Mutti made pillows and covers for it on her sewing machine. She was proud to give it to me, and I felt privileged to have it. My friend Elisabeth and I played with it quite a lot.

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My cousin and I with the ill fated doll buggy.

We were playing outside one fateful day.

“Helga, you get in the buggy, and I will push you!” said Elisabeth as she set the dolls out.

“Oh, I don’t know if I can get in it,” I answered.

But my friend insisted.

“Of course you can,” she said and helped me squeeze in the little buggy.

“Here we go!” she said excitedly and pushed me down the lane.

The buggy, made for dolls only, collapsed with me inside. Elisabeth and I froze, knowing Mutti’s hot temper would be quick and merciless. We came up with a plan, and pushed the crumpled buggy deep into the cornfield.

Later, I explained to Mutti how Elisabeth and I had been pushing our dolls in the buggy, and the Russian girls took it away from us. The true story was not told until many years later.

When the fields were empty, people would come from Fulda with their children to fly kites where there was nothing to stop them.

Alfons made wonderful kites, and I always had one to fly.

Papa’s health continued to deteriorate as I grew up. He was taking strong medications that sometimes had adverse effects. I remember one time he was coming home on his bicycle, and he began acting erratically. Elisabeth and I were outside, and we watched him start playing in the sand like a little kid. Then he went into the barn and started pulling dirty straw out of the stalls. We didn’t understand, but 22

later I heard he had started a new medicine for the asthma that reacted badly.

I don’t remember being sick except once. Alfons and some other boys were taking care of the milk cows at the main ranch.

Elisabeth and I walked through the fields to the barn, and I sat on the side of a wagon to watch, swinging my legs. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my side and I couldn’t move or straighten up. Elisabeth cried out to the boys, and Alfons and Lupp scooped me up and carried me home. They took turns on the mile and a half distance with me crying in pain the whole time.

The nurse come to the house to check me over. I was in bed for several days, but I don’t remember what it was.

We walked everywhere, to town, to the ranch, to school, and to church. It didn’t matter if it was raining or cold or snowing. There was no such thing as a schoolbus. Nobody had a car except the owners of the Ranch. Sometimes we would visit relatives, either Mutti’s sisters and brother in Fulda or my Godparents who lived about two miles away in Petersburg.

It was a simpler time; walking was as natural as breathing the fresh, clean air that surrounded us.

Paula came to stay with us when I was about six years old.

Elisabeth and I were sent upstairs.

“You two watch, now,” directed Mutti. “There will be a big stork coming soon to bring Paula a baby.”

We watched and scanned the skies for the big bird, but never caught a glimpse. Later we were allowed downstairs, and there was a little baby boy. “Where did he come from?” I asked curious as usual.

“The stork came!” Mutti assured us.

I took a quick look around, and didn’t see any evidence of a stork. Then I saw a pot, and it was full of blood.

But, Mutti, what is all that blood in that pot?” I, of course, had to investigate everything.

“The stork bit Paula in the leg,” said Mutti, keeping back a smile, “but she is fine, as you can see.”

I believed the whole story.

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CHAPTER 4

Winter

I tried to make my legs go faster on the lane to home from school. We had a snow storm last night, and the ground was sparkling as the sun fell. I hated going out in the morning, but school was never closed due to snow or weather of any kind. As I came up the lane, my tree, now bare-branched with a layer of wet snow on each dark limb, was a welcome sight meaning I was almost home.

Numbed with the cold and my nostrils almost frozen shut, I rushed inside and peeled off my wool cap, scarf and gloves. Mutti knitted them in the summer. They were really warm, but as soon as I got in the kitchen, they itched and felt scratchy. I hated them.

I slipped off my boots, and pulled down the oven door. Dragging a chair beside the stove, I stuck my legs into the warm cavity while the teakettle steamed busily on the top.

“Helga!” Mutti warned. “One of these days you are going to toast off your socks,” she said.

It was laundry day. Alfons had brought in water before going to work, and Mutti spent all day boiling the water, washing and rinsing our clothes. After I warmed up and had a piece of rye bread, I helped her carry the last of the wash to the attic to dry. Meanwhile, she had noodles cooking on one side of the stovetop.

By the time we finished the laundry and then supper, it was quite dark. For an hour or so, the oil lamps were lit on the kitchen table. Mutti left the stove blazing until we went to bed, but it was still

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cold in the unheated bedroom. The windows were completely frozen over with a sparkly curtain of ice.

Frieda took one of the irons from the stovetop and slid it over our sheet to warm the bed. Then she wrapped a towel around it and we took turns putting our feet on it as we fell asleep. It only took a few minutes to warm up after snuggling into the fluffy featherbed.

Fulda usually had snow from mid-October through March, anywhere from one to nine inches deep. Winter and the snow was fun when the sun was shining and we had the weekend off school. Some of Alfons friends and Elisabeth and I walked over to Ursula’s homestead in the afternoon. Others had already come before us, and we shared several sleds. This homestead was surrounded by steep hills, bare in the winter months, and perfect for sledding.

We came home cold and wet from tumbling in the snow, but laughing and still full of energy as we burst into our warm kitchen afterward. We hung up our soggy gloves and caps and took off our wet socks. The stove was our friend as always.

In December, I didn’t notice the cold so much. On the very first day of the month, Mutti put out the Adventskalendar. It is a large and colorful Christmas picture on a card with 24 little die cut windows to open, one day at a time. I hopped out of bed each morning with a purpose. Daily, I ran to the kitchen near the warming stove to pop open a new scene beneath the window.

“Look, Alfons,” I pointed out, “today is a little yellow cat with a red ribbon sitting in a doorway!” Alfons, being older and sleepier, just nodded to humor me.

On the first Sunday of December, we gathered together and lit one of the four red candles on our Advent Krantz. Mutti hung our beribboned spruce wreath from the ceiling. Each Sunday another candle was lit, then on Christmas all four would burn together to celebrate the day.

From December 1st throughout the month, Mutti baked cookies whenever she had all the household chores finished. It 26

seemed like the whole world smelled like sugar cookies! I helped her stir up the dough, then set out the cookie cutters shaped like trees and bells and wreaths. We baked trays and trays of cookies in the oven of our big stove. Gingerbread cookies, or lebkuchen, as we knew them, were always a favorite. I loved the spritz cookies. Our meat grinder had an attachment to press out cookies with different designs.

Alfons always tried to sneak into Mutti’s stash of cookies, and often got his knuckles smacked.

December 8th was our school’s Christmas celebration. Alfons had to keep up with me for a change on that day, because I literally ran through the snow in anticipation. After the usual preliminaries, the day was spent singing beautiful songs and munching on my teacher’s fresh baked cookies.

That evening at home we watched for St. Nicholas.

I was a little apprehensive as dinner was finished, watching the door. I knew that St. Nicholas had a servant, Knech Ruprecht, who carried a switch, “Rute”. That was for children who had not behaved well. As the door burst open and the two Christmas characters entered, I hid under the kitchen table.

“Aha!” says St. Nicholas, “We have come to check on the children in this house and bring Christmas!” At that, Knech Ruprecht whisked his “Rute” on Alfons, and I hid my face in fear.

“Helga, come out from there,” urged Mutti. “It’s fine; you have been a good girl all year!”

I was not so sure that St. Nicholas knew that, and wouldn’t budge.

“Helga!” repeated Mutti laughing. “Really, you can come out.

St. Nicholas has cookies for you, not a switch!”

I cautiously peeked out, and sure enough, a big gloved hand was extended with a little bag of cookies. Alfons was laughing too, so I realized the situation was not as serious as I had feared.

Christmas Eve day began with chores. Everyone helped clean the house, bring in the water and the wood for the fire, wash 27

the breakfast dishes, make the beds up and sweep the floors. Then Papa and Alfons brought in a well shaped spruce, freshly cut and smelling wonderful. They set up the tree in the living room, and Mutti set out the decorations. What fun it was to dress up the tree together with real candles and sparklers, pretty ornaments and icicles.

I wanted to just sit and stare at our creation, even though the candles were not yet lit. The tree was all at once a sunrise, a walk in the woods, a glimpse of a busy squirrel, and a dusting of fresh snow. It brought into my home everything I loved so well outside. It brought to mind my special tree anchoring our homestead in the valley of the Rhön mountains. I loved it so much.

“I need some help in here,” shouted Mutti, breaking my moment of celebration. I scurried to the kitchen table, where she had put out special Christmas paper plates, one for each of the family. I placed an orange on each plate, following with an apple and a handful of nuts.

Then came the delightful task of choosing which cookies to place from the bounty of shapes and flavors we had baked throughout the month.

These simple treats on paper plates couldn’t be touched until after dinner.

As wonderful as Christmas dinner was, with a roast pork, vegetables from the cellar, and Mutti’s preserved specialties, I couldn’t wait for the dishes to be washed up and we all went into the living room.

All the family sat together around the tree, and Papa lit the candles on the tree. There was a hush and a peace and a pleasure that only happened once a year as our Christmas Eve unfolded. We sang 28

German Christmas carols. The flickering candles casting sparkles on the icicles and the soft melodies created memories that never fade.

There were presents to open, and we enjoyed ourselves until it was time to walk to Midnight Mass.

Too happy to be sleepy, I layered on my sweater, coat, scarf, and the mittens that Mutti had knitted for cold such as this. There was about 4 inches of snow on the hills of “die Rhön”, and my family hurried along the road to Frauenberg Kirche on the hill. It was more than a mile walk, so Papa put me on a sled and Alfons pulled it. I could hear the snow crunching beneath their feet as I slid along under the stars.

The crèche was softly lit in front of the church, and we stopped with other families to admire it before entering. The wooden pews and stone floor were warmed by the service of the Nativity and the voices of the people of Fulda singing my favorite Christmas carol, “Stille Nacht”.

One December, I must have been four or five, Mutti took me to Fulda.

“We are going to visit the seamstress, Helga,” she explained along the way. “She has a little niece about your age and is sewing her a coat. It’s a surprise and since you are the same size, she is going to measure you.”

At the shop, they dressed me in the coat and adjusted some pins and took some tucks in the fabric.

The coat was gorgeous, a “trachtencoat”. It was forest green with red pockets made like acorn leaves. The collar was piped in red.

I was standing in front of a full length mirror, and saw Mutti and the seamstress wink at each other. I knew right then and there that the coat was for me! Secrets are best kept, so I didn’t let on that I knew.

That Christmas Eve, it seemed that everything was for me. I got that beautiful coat and three new dresses. There was also a doll for me, and Mutti had made lots of doll clothes for her. I must have been a very good girl that year!

Frauenberg Kirche on the hill

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Streets of Fulda after an air raid

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CHAPTER 5

The War

I was about seven years old the first time Fulda was bombed.

The war was not my worry before that. I am sure my parents and other adults carried the anxiety of war and talked among themselves when there was news. Frieda and Alfons were both members of the German Youth Organizations. The Hitler Youth was for male youths ages 14 to 18, and the League of German Girls was for girls ages 10 to 18.

Membership was mandatory, and activities included camping, sports training, music and band, hiking and drill formations.

Once a year the Kaserne, where the German soldiers lived, had a community open house. They served split pea soup with ham, and there was music from the army band. It was a big day, and I loved it.

For a while, Frieda dated a soldier at the Kaserne, and Elisabeth and I delivered notes between them, walking the mile and a half across the fields.

One major event that chronicled the onset of Germany’s aggression was “Kristallnacht” in 1938 when Jewish synagogues were destroyed, including the one in Fulda. I was just a baby at the time.

Then in 1941, the Hitler government took the keys to the Church in Fulda. It was closed to the public until the war ended. My early years were happy ones despite the clouds of war.

Then the bombs were dropped. The first were on July 20, 1944.

It was a lazy summer afternoon. Alfons, Elisabeth and I were laying

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in the cool grass not far from the house. Mutti and the others were working, some in the fields and some at the ranch.

“Alfons, what is that noise?” Elisabeth and I turned over from our stomachs to our backs, then sat up as the ground began to shiver.

In the sky above Fulda, we saw a large squadron of bombers in a V formation churning the air. It was the loudest noise I ever heard before or since.

Alfons took one good look and yelled, “Angriffsbeichen,” which means, ‘They are going to bomb us!’ “Get in the ditch!” he shouted, and all three of us dove into the ditch.

Each bomb fell with swishing sounds, then a loud explosion.

Fulda was bombed heavily that first time. There were craters in our fields.

From that time on, sirens would shriek when planes approached.

Bunkers were built in and around the city where people could run for shelter. Our closest bunker was about a half a mile away in the hill and wood behind our house.

Once our bunker was targeted. We were in the back part of it, and the bomb hit it in the middle. A hole had to be cleared for us to crawl through. I lost my shoe in the rubble.

We lived with the constant everyday fear and dread of war for more than two years. At night the city of Fulda was completely dark.

No lights were allowed to prevent easy targets. When the sirens began and we were at school, everyone ran to the basement.

I was half way home from school once when the sirens started.

I watched as small fighter planes flew low and to the side of the trains and shot into the windows. I hated them. There was German resistance with ground fire, but I never saw a plane shot down.

War is terrible for all who have to experience it, no matter which side they are on. And many don’t survive.

Our Polish neighbors at the homestead had two boys, David, who was three years old and Juschu, a year older. Lucy, their mother, made a lunch one summer day, then she and the boys headed to the fields to find her husband Janek who was working near the main ranch.

They all met along the roadside for a picnic.

Suddenly, they heard the dreaded sirens. There was a surprise attack, and the bombers were already close. There was not much time

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The steeples of our church stood over the rubble

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to find shelter. Janek evidently realized they could not make it to the ranch or a bunker. He put David in the ditch and covered him with his body. Lucy did the same with Juschu.

When the bombers were gone, Mutti and the others at the ranch frantically searched for the family, knowing they had planned a picnic. I heard the story of their discovery over and over again, and it has never left my memory. A bomb hit the field near them and also dropped phosphor. The impact of the missile tore an arm from Janek and burst his lungs. David was alive under his father’s body. Lucy’s legs were torn off on the back side and her insides were damaged. Juschu was partially covered by his mother’s small body, but his face was blackened like his mother’s.

Lucy and the boys were alive. They were carried to the main ranch. There, Lucy vomited so much blood, she died in a short time. The boys stayed with us until their Polish relatives picked them up. I still feel a deep hurt when I think of what happened to this sweet family.

In September, 1944, the war was nearly over, but of course we didn’t know that.

Hitler was planning one last offensive to break the ranks of the western front - the Battle of the Bulge. Alfons was conscripted into the German army. He was 16 years old.

On our side of Fulda there was a huge bunker where people could go during a bombing raid. This was hit directly, and it is recorded

that 700 people died inside that day. No one got out alive. The city of Fulda put out a call to identify the dead. Mutti knew so many people in Fulda, she went to help. It must have taken all the fortitude she had to witness that gruesome devastation, and step between and over so many mangled bodies to recognize her own friends and townspeople.

As the war neared the end, the American army advanced nearer and nearer to Fulda. We were in a bunker for three days and could hear the artillery. On the second day in the bunker, we ran out of food. That night, Mutti left the bunker and headed to our homestead through the darkened skies with the noise of war and artillery getting ever closer. I was petrified with fear that I would never see her again.

Somehow, she managed to evade the guns and bombs and reach our homestead. She put together a bundle of provisions, and before the sun rose, she returned with food and drink.

The heroism of parents like Lucy and Janek, covering their boys with their bodies, and like my Mutti, braving the artillery to feed her family, can never be forgotten.

After the third day, the noises of war stopped. The quiet indicated that the battle for Fulda was over.

American soldiers were everywhere. They had on combat gear with metal helmets covered with nets. I saw a black person for the first time in my life. (I knew they existed because our church sent money to Africa!) There were huge tanks and jeeps and Army vehicles everywhere.

They marched us over to the German Kaserne, about a mile from our bunker. I wasn’t afraid of the soldiers. They gave us sour balls and their C-rations. Of course, we didn’t understand their English conversations.

Soon after that they set up camp right behind our barn. They pitched tents and brought in the jeeps and other vehicles. We kids on the ranch had it made. The soldiers gave us candy and chocolate. The first time they handed out chewing gum, we swallowed it. They finally managed to communicate that gum was to be chewed, then spit out!

Not all the soldiers were so kind. A couple of them gave Elisabeth and I whiskey to drink, which we promptly threw up. They 35

taught us to say in English, “Hitler is a son of a bitch�, and laughed liked crazy.

Alfons was captured by the Americans. He said they marched him, then held him for three days without food. Then they allowed him to go home.

The soldiers stayed beside our barn for quite a while. They watched our house day and night, looking for German soldiers. They came into our bedroom one night, shining their flashlights at us and even under our beds.

Another time a soldier came into our kitchen. He was drunk and had a gun in his hand. Mutti and Papa and I were in the kitchen.

I was sitting on a stool with my head against the tabletop doing

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homework. The soldier sat down on a chair, and his gun went off, the bullet lodging in the table right next to my head. Mutti and Papa went to the headquarters and somehow made the Commander understand what happened at our homestead. We never saw that soldier again.

That bullet hole reminded us of that night as long as we had that table.

The story is never all good or all bad, but war has no benefits to those who see it firsthand. I thought I had no pain attached to it, but seeing stories on TV bring back the memories of screeching sirens.

Seeing missiles fired and bombs dropped awakens the fear and horror of what happened early in my life.

The Christmas after the invasion, we went to Mass as usual. We held up our folded hands in respect during Communion as we always did. But the visiting Americans looked funny to us. Some had their arms crossed in front of their chests. Others held their arms crossed behind them. And others just had their hands in their pockets. Although it was strange to a little girl at the time, I think it was wonderful that they wanted to be in church at Christmastime.

After the Americans arrived, I can still remember the smell of cake doughnuts being baked at the Kaserne, the heavenly aroma drifting over our fields near the homestead. We will leave the memories of war with that.

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ďƒŒ ďƒŒ Bahnhofstrasse 13 - The upper arrow shows the kitchen and living room windows and the lower arrow shows the bedroom of our apartment. The movie theater was directly across the street.

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CHAPTER 6

Moving to Fulda

I was extrememly happy in the hills beside the Rhön mountains.

I loved the homestead and my tree between the house and barn more than anything. The freedom of running over the fields, the smells of fresh grass in the spring, the feeling of crisp icy snow on the walk to school in the winter- all that was part of my very soul.

Electricity inevitably came to the homestead, but my simple life continued in the enjoyment of the countryside and its natural benefits.

After Christmas, Mutti baked a big batch of jelly filled yeast doughnuts. In the evening just before dark, we had Kaffee Klatsch with those delicious treats. Then we walked to Petersberg where my Godparents lived to watch what we called the “Hutzelfest”. Every village had one. The kids picked up all the Christmas trees thrown out and tossed them on a huge pile to burn. We gathered around the bonfire to see the tall flames and the sparks like fireworks bouncing into the darkened sky.

I was 10 years old when the family decided they had worked on the ranch long enough. I couldn’t believe it as they discussed moving to town and getting other jobs.

“Helga,” Mutti said, “you won’t have to walk so far to school in this cold weather!” I thought to myself, I never minded the walk.

“Helga,” Alfons said, “ you will find lots of new friends.” I thought to myself, I had the best friends already.

I wouldn’t give in to any of their persuasions. I was one unhappy kid. I could not imagine waking up in a busy, noisy town. I could not imagine walking to school without waving “so long” to my favorite tree. I was bonded to the land, and home was Mutti in the kitchen,

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Alfons dragging in the water bucket, and the stars sparkling outside our bedroom window. My family had other ideas.

Because of the war, refugees arrived constantly from the Eastern Bloc countries. People had to share residences and rent out rooms in their houses to acccommodate the influx. Our new living quarters were Apartment Number 13 on Bahnhofstrasse in Fulda.

The ground floor of the apartment building housed a beauty shop. The owners lived on the first floor. They didn’t have any children and took a liking to me. Their baby was an adorable dachshund that liked coffee and chocolate. Since Mutti had never allowed a pet in the house, I thought it was just great.

We had a bedroom on the first floor next to the neighbors and shared a large kitchen, living area and bathroom on the second floor with a refugee family. There was a doctor and his wife and two grown children. They were not very friendly and acted like they were better than all of us. Sometimes when I headed to the bathroom, the old Doc was already in there sitting on the pot without bothering to close the door.

On the third floor lived a lady with two kids my age. Their Dad was killed in the war. I became great friends with Wolfgang and Liselotte. Wolfgang insisted he was going to marry me some day.

It helped to meet new friends, but I was homesick for the old homestead. Lots of times I walked out to visit everybody there and enjoy the open fields. Life in Fulda was a totally different way of life. It took a while for me to become “city folk”. Mutti went to work at the train station in a giftshop. Frieda found a job at one of the candle factories.

Our apartment was just a hop and a skip from my school. It was so different from the long walks I treasured. Our new church was also close by. Beside the school on the Universitatsplazt Square was a bus stop. Right across the street was a movie theater, and there were different kinds of stores everywhere. After a while of living in the middle of things, I began to enjoy everything except the noise of the vehicles on Bahnhofstrasse, which was a wide 40

avenue and a major truck route through Fulda.

Liselotte and Wolfgang had a bicycle and taught me how to ride it. I really loved that. Then Liselotte introduced me to the public swimming pool.

“I don’t know how to swim,” I protested when we visited the pool.

“It’s no big thing! All you have to do is jump in and you will learn!” she assured me. It didn’t work for me.

“Help!” I blubbered as I floundered in the water after popping in from the side. Fortunately there was an alert lifeguard who jumped in and helped me out.

Our school building had a large courtyard in the middle.

When we entered the front doors, the boys turned to the left and the girls went to the right of the stairs. We were separated by gender in our classes. We girls would talk and giggle, but school was seriously for learning. As soon as we got to class, the teacher came in and we stood to attention, put our right arms out and repeated together, “Heil Hitler!” Of course that ritual stopped when the war was over.

During recess, we would rush out to the courtyard to play. A heavy rope strung across the yard separated the boys from the girls. Through the year, we participated in competitions, gymnastic classes and other sports. Our entire school class went to the pool one time to learn how to swim.

My last experience in the water must have really scared me, because I still didn’t learn to swim.

I liked my school and the teachers. One teacher, however, I didn’t care for at all. She taught gym, sewing and crafts. Her assignments required materials and supplies that we could not afford. Sometimes she gave a low grade when we couldn’t get the materials, and I thought that was unfair.

Fulda was strongly Catholic, and our school didn’t have many students who were Protestants. Since religion was a class just like any other subject, those kids were allowed to participate in a class of their own.

On the first day of school, children were treated to a candy-filled “Zuckertüte”.

This is Alfon’s daughter, Hanne.

Alfons took me to my first movie, “The Hunchback of Notre Dame”. I was scared to death but hooked on movies from then on.

Sometimes Alfons would pay me to wash his motorcycle or shine his 41

shoes, and I would go to the movies. Sometimes I would see the same one several times.

Musicals were my favorite, but Mutti did not approve of the theater and thought I would not learn anything good from them. I once weaseled a dime from Papa to go to a movie. Standing with my hand on the doorknob, I told Mutti, “I’ll be right back.”

A couple of hours later, I had plenty of trouble from Mutti when she figured out how I had tricked her!

Once a year the circus came to town and we always went to it. I loved everything that had to do with the circus. The animals were amazing, but my very favorite were the trapeze artists. Those beautiful girls with their beautiful costumes made me dizzy watching them twirl.

We also had a Carnival once a year with rides and booths. I always got a big gingerbread heart on a ribbon I hung around my neck. Alfons and I would try every ride. No matter how fast or tall they were, I was never afraid. It might have been because Alfons was right there with me.

My Godparents, the Barths, with Klaus, Reinhold and Walter.

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Sometimes I would spend several days with my Godparents. I always thought they were rich. They owned their own house and had a real bathroom, electricity and running water-such luxuries in those days. My Godmother loved flowers and had a big garden with huge, beautiful dahlias. There were also Bartlett pear trees and one big red bing cherry tree. I could pick cherries right out of the kitchen window!

It was such fun to go there because there were some girls my age who lived close by. Also, I enjoyed running around with my Godparents’ boys, Reinhold and Walter. Reinhold was two years older than I and we were great friends. Walter was older and liked to tease me all the time.

There was another brother, Klaus, who was in the army. He ended up in a Russian prisoner of war camp for two years..

My Godmother was my papa’s sister. She had this look in her eye that made us behave. My Godfather was a jolly man who would hug me and affectionately scratch my face wih his beard. We were great friends.

My Godparents’ parents lived upstairs, and they were really nice.

Another old Aunt would come to visit, and they all would play cards. I noticed that their cards were bigger and the pictures were different than the ones we had at home. Grandpa Barth would chew his tobacco and spit into the spitton and never miss.

Paula had left Fulda and moved to Belgium. She sent me ribbons for my pigtails in letters and sometimes pretty kneesocks. I missed her so much. When I was about 13, Alfons took me on a road trip. We left at 6:00 in the morning and rode all day on his motorcycle. It was about 8:00 pm when we reached the Belgium border. We put the motorcycle in storage and took a train from there.

We had a layover in Luttich, and wandered to a candy counter for a treat. We couldn’t understand the unfortunate woman who tried to wait on us. We kept changing our minds on what we wanted, and she finally lost patience with us. Alfons and I just laughed at the situation despite the language barriers.

From there, we rode the train to Paula’s house. It had been two years since we had seen each other, and she couldn’t believe how much I had grown up. We had a wonderful time together, and she sent me back to Fulda with a beautiful pair of red leather house shoes.

I wasn’t a perfect teenager, and if something needed to be said to me, it was always Mutti who corrected me. A certain day flits through my mind like an old movie when that issue revealed something to me that I had never known. I was thirteen.

My parents were arguing loudly, I think it was over me, and when I entered the room, Papa turned to me and said, “I don’t have any say over you, Helga. You are not my daughter.”

I just stared at him, not understanding. “Go ask your Godfather who your real father is!”

As the argument continued heatedly, Mutti told me to go get my Godfather. When he came, Mutti spoke to him. “Explain this nonsense that Papa has claimed, that Helga is not his daughter.”

The two men stood together and denied it totally. The incident was closed. My Godfather went home.

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In my heart, I knew it was true, as astounding as it was to me. I was glad for it. I had always had a special bond with my Godfather, much more than with my Papa. I already loved him and his family and thought about the way he always affectionately rubbed his scratchy beard on my face. Reinhold was like a brother to me already. I never talked to any of them about this situation, but I always knew there was a special bond between us all.

I think I was the only one who didn’t know about my heritage.

When I talked to Alfons and Frieda, they told me that before I was born, my Godfather had lived with them in the old homestead for several months before he moved with his wife to the house on Petersberg in Fulda. Both sides of the families were aware of the situation when Mutti became pregnant.

Much later, I assured Mutti that I would never condemn her for what happened in the past, but she could never bring herself to talk about it.

Alfons and Elli

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When I was 14, Alfons married Elli and moved out of the apartment. I really missed my brother. One reason was that I lost my source of income. Alfons paid me to wash his motorcycle, shine his shoes and whatever else he was too busy to take care of.

Frieda lived with us still, but she had little to do with me and was gone a lot from home. It was the beginning of a new era. I talked Mutti into cutting my pigtails, and with a new perm I was thinking I had finally grown up.

We moved again to the outskirts of Fulda in the opposite direction from our old homestead. It was further from school, and Mutti bought me a bicycle. It was metallic blue and shining chrom. she paid for it out of her grocery money.

That year I had Fraulein Freitag for my sewing and crafts teacher. When I told her about the problem of getting materials with the teacher I had before, she said, “Don’t you worry about that. If your family can’t afford to buy the supplies, I will buy them, and you can make the project for me.”

I graduated from regular school at 14. Children who were headed for higher education left at age 12 and transferred to another facility.



Those who graduated at 14 usually became beauticians, seamstresses, electricians, plulmbers, mechanics, and bakers. They went to training one day a week and apprenticed on the job the other days of the week.

At age 17 they were ready for full time work, experienced in their trade.

For graduation from sewing class, our assignment was to make a nurse’s apron. We were given a time limit, and the apron had to be identically sewn on both sides. I was the only one who finished it on time, and got and A+. I delivered my apron to Fraulein Freitag because she bought the material for my project.

At 16 I learned everything I needed to become a good housewife in “Haushaltung-Schule”. It was fun. It included gardening, sewing, childcare, cooking, managing money and other useful skills.

After that, I took six months of sewing. I attended school one day a week and apprenticed for a sewing room the other days. The owner of the sewing room had the best fashion salon in Fulda, “Guast” on Bahnhofstrasse.

I made most of my own clothes and some of Frieda’s. It was cheaper to buy material instead of ready made clothing. Mutti always sewed, and I was good at it, too.

“Helga is not my little one any more,” Mutti mused. “She is becoming quite the young lady!” She sounded just a bit sad.

Helga

My graduating class in 1952. Ursula is on my right in the dress with the bow.

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CHAPTER 7

Life-Shaping Events

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Frieda still lived at home, and although unmarried, had two toddlers, Reini and Mikki. My Papa was crazy about Mikki. Mutti and I helped take care of the kids. Sometimes Frieda would leave for several days at a time.

I dated a few German boys, but it was nothing special. Liselotte and I spent many a day walking in the city park. We noticed a really good looking guy and watched for him every time. One day he stopped and started up a conversation. That ended our interest in him- I didn’t like him at all!

I was 16 when Papa was taken to the hospital. Since he had been an invalid for so many years, it was not unexpected that in just a few days, he died. Even though I wasn’t that close to him, I missed him. Our home seemed different without him there.

At 17, I found steady work. An American family with two small boys needed home help. Captain Cartwright and his family were interesting. They were Southern Baptists and of course, spoke English.

I learned their language quickly with a lot of help from the two boys.

I told Frieda how strange it was that they both had the same name. Captain Cartwright called his wife “Honey” and she called him “Honey”, too. In German, “Hannie” is a girl’s name. Frieda laughed.

She was working at the Service Club at the Barracks, dating GI’s and learning English really well.

“Helga,” she explained, “that is just their nickname for each other, not their real names!”

I worked for the Cartwrights every day except Sundays, and I enjoyed it. After a year, Captain Cartwright was tranferred to Giessen, about 50 miles from Fulda. They asked me to move with them and be their live in maid. For the first time, I left home and Mutti and Fulda.

Captain Cartwright told me I would make somebody a good wife someday. I sewed quite a bit for Mrs. Cartwright. I really enjoyed their family. It was a good experience for me, but after about a year I got really homesick, and decided to return to Fulda.

Back in Fulda, a friend of ours knew of a position open in Matten, a village just 20 miles from home. I went for an interview, and Frau Will hired me on the spot.

The Wills had a Brewery and a Restaurant and a beautiful house with a stately dining room with a long table and 12 chairs. Both their son and daughter went to school in Fulda, taking the bus every day. If Frau Will wanted to go shopping, she took the kids in her Mercedes.

I was never treated like a maid there, despite their affluence.

Soon after I started to work, Frau Will called me into her bedroom.

She wanted me to know that she had lost all her hair from sickness and

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wore a wig. I had no idea. She was a sweet lady, and I often gave her back massages.

By profession, Frau Will was a cook. In no time at all I gained almost 20 pounds enjoying her delicious food. She and her husband said I should stay with them and marry a nice farm boy. That was not in my head for my future at all.

Perhaps I felt there was more to life for me, but after seven months with them, I got homesick again. I didn’t say a word to those poor people, but packed up my suitcase one night and caught the first morning bus back to Fulda. Years later I wrote a letter apologizing for my abrupt departure.

I found my next job at Mehlers Fabrik, a clothing factory in Fulda.

I knew how to sew and started out on the assembly line. Soon I was promoted to the end of the line where buttonholes were cut by machine.

I met Margaret and Maria at that station, and we three became friends for life.

There was some stress involved in this job. The buttonholes had to be cut and sewn on the right side on coats for women,and on the left side for men’s wear. If they were cut wrong, the entire garment was ruined. One morning, women’s coats were sent through, and early in the afternoon, six new men’s models were sent. Margaret, sitting on the assembly line next to mine, had been working on the women’s coats all morning. She forgot and put the buttonholes on the wrong side.

I thought the boss was going to have a stroke. He shouted at poor Margaret and sent her to sew on buttons, a position that made a lot less money.

Since I had gained so much weight at the Wills’, I decided to lose those 20 pounds by running a mile every evening.

Around that time I met twin brothers, Patrick and Michael. Patrick was an MP. We dated a while and actually got engaged. I realized he wasn’t right for me, handsome as he was, so we broke it off.

Just after my 20th birthday, Frieda took me to the Service Club.

I sat a a table for the floor show and joined some others. I thought one good looking guy with dark hair looked a lot like Elvis Presley. We began to talk, and before the evening was over, he said he’d like to take me out sometime.

“Sure,” I replied. He didn’t make a date, so I thought that was the end of it.

A couple of weeks later, I was at Tony’s Bar. It was a nice place, 48

and often GI’s came there. Who should walk in but the Elvis Presley look alike. He found a very attractive barmaid and danced with her.

I was drinking my Coke, and he spotted me. We talked, and he asked me to dance. We talked some more, and he suggested we take a taxi and visit another bar. We hit it off, and he said he wanted to see me the next day. His name was Max, not Elvis. He was handsome, 159 pounds, a 29 inch waist and solid as a rock.

The next day he showed up, and we talked again. We both said we didn’t want to get into serious relationships. It was a good time to just be friends and have fun. The next day he came to see me again.

Then the next day and the next day he continued to come until 13 days had passed and we had seen each other every day.

On the thirteen day, he asked me to marry him.

We were head over heels in love. Max wrote home to his Mom in the states, “I can’t eat or sleep, and this girl really has me standing on my head”. Four months after we met, were were engaged. My girlfriends teased me and said, “Max fell in love with you because of your red dress that buttons down the back!”

We did a lot of walking. I loved the City Park. For about $5.00 we could see a show and have dinner. We applied for a marriage license and got all the papers together: Military ID, passport, and birth certificates. In November, we got documents in the mail.

Max met a girl named Vera when he first got to Germany. Her parents owned a restaurant and bar. After we were engaged, Vera started to call him, or so he told me. A friend told me Max had been going to her parents’ restaurant. Concerned, I asked him about it.

“Nothing is going on between us,” he told me.

“Then, take me to her restaurant,” I asked.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Max replied.

That was enough to convince me there was something going on.

“Take your ring back; it’s over!” I said, angry and hurt.

I went home, changed my clothes and went to a place we both used to go to. I wasn’t there very long, and Max arrived.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said stubbornly.

That was the only time Max told me to go to hell.

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50

Max went home to the States for Christmas. He didn’t tell anyone that we broke up.

About that time, Mutti moved us into a small but really nice apartment. I spent time with my girlfriends. I heard from mutual friends that Max said he loved me and still wanted to marry me.

I have to admit, I always looked for him everywhere I went.

Once, I was out with my friends at a restaurant and Max and some of his friends came in. He smiled at me. I didn’t say hello. In Germany at that time, a woman waited for a man to speak first. I certainly wasn’t going to break the tradition. Of course, Max didn’t understand that, and we didn’t connect at all. After our breakup, I never mentioned Max to Mutti. My thoughts were my own.

I walked to town sometimes instead of taking the bus, hoping Max just might drive by. I heard he bought a car. One special day, I heard a car stop behind me. Knowing in my heart it was Max, I still didn’t turn around.

“Helga!” I heard him call.

I turned around. “Well, hello!”

“Want a ride home?”

“Sure, why not?”

Max had one of his buddies with him. “Where do you live now?” he asked. I told him and hopped into the car.

He walked me to my door and asked, “Will you go out with me on Friday?”

“Sure!” I answered.

I flew up three flights of stairs to our apartment. “Mutti! Mutti!

You’ll never guess who brought me home just now!”

Mutti supressed a smile, expecting what was coming next.

“What do you think of me going out with Max again?”

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With Max, 1958, on our way to Belgium

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Mutti, true to her nature, always seeing the good in a person first, said, “Anybody can make one mistake, Helga”.

That is just what I wanted to hear.

Friday, Max picked me up, and we drove out to the country to Hillbilly Gasthaus, where we had gone a few other times. We sat at a little table in the back. He lit a cigarette with a silver lighter that had his initials on it.

“Did Vera give you that?” I asked.

“Yes.” he said simply.

“How is your friend?” he asked, meaning the fellow I had recently been dating.

“Fine.” I replied.

We got up to dance. He held me so tightly I could hardly breathe.

“Would you believe me if I said I still love you?” asked Max.

“Yes.” I answered breathlessly.

That night he gave me presents that his Mom, Grandma Brewer and his sister Stella had sent back with him from the States, because

they didn’t know we had broken up. I couldn’t believe it.

Then he gave me back my ring. He had kept all the papers we needed to get married.

“I always knew that we would get married,” he grinned.

With Max, 1957, Fulda, Germany

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CHAPTER 8

Whirlwind Wedding

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The army had all kinds of requirements for an American soldier to marry a German girl. A notarized form had to be signed by my mother from a lawyer since I was only 20 at the time. We had to meet with the Army chaplin. Max had to get permission from the Company Commander. I had to go to the army doctor and subject myself to a full physical. Max was investigated to make sure he didn’t have a wife stashed back in America.

Max really didn’t like the army very much, and only had four months left to go. Realizing the time it would take to get through all the regulations to get married, he reenlisted for a three year term.

Max wrote home and told his parents about me and said he was getting married. Soon, he got a letter back, and his parents assured him how much they loved him and wanted him to be happy. Then they carefully explained that there were other options. They thought I might be pregnant (I wasn’t) and said there were other ways to take care of me. Stella came right out with her feelings in another letter and said he was crazy for even thinking about getting married. Not even knowing me, she thought I probably wasn’t good enough for Max.

Max replied to Stella, telling her he wasn’t worried about me not being good enough for him, but he thought possibly he wasn’t good enough for me!

We set our wedding day, really thinking only of ourselves. I was

as disappointed as Alfons when we realized that my brother didn’t have enough notice to take off from his work.

Max was Lutheran, and I was a Catholic. We talked about this and decided, since I was going to eventually live in his home country and town, I should make the change. I went to private classes for several weeks at the only Protestant church in Fulda with the preacher who married us. Then that information was entered on all the legal forms necessary for the marriage.

In Germany at that time, the custom was to buy the gold wedding bands and engrave each others’ initials on the inside of the band. We wore our bands on the left hand during the engagement period, and at the wedding, the rings would be placed on our right hands. Max insisted that we follow the American tradition of wearing our wedding bands on our left hands, which was fine with me. I was in the process of leaving my home country and learning to immerse into another culture even before I arrived there.

Max paid for everything with money from his reenlistment bonus. He covered the rings, my wedding dress, the food, the drinks, the flowers and the photographer at the wedding, even the taxi.

My dress was custom made by a local seamstress. It had a lace bodice and a full, tea length skirt, and I wore a tuille veil. I wore really high heels. My bouquet contained 21 pink carnations, one for each year of my age.

The day arrived, June 7, 1958. It was sunny and beautiful.

Max came to pick me up at 7:00 in the morning. We signed the legal papers in the courthouse at 8:00, then went home to change into wedding clothes. The church ceremony was at 10:00, and we arrived in a beautifully decorated black taxi. Max could speak very limited German, and knew when to say “Ja” at the proper times.

Max had teased me, “I am going to kiss you when we are pronounced husband and wife.”

I protested, “That is entirely unacceptable in our German churches! You can’t!”

So Max had to wait. We went straight to the photographer after the wedding and finally got home about 12:30 p.m.

“Married twice in one day, first the courthouse then the church!” said Max. “That’s enough for anybody!”

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It was a wonderful and happy occasion. All the family (except Alfons, who came later) were there to greet us. The neighborhood kids waited by our door to catch the candy we scattered from a big bag, another German custom. Then we went into the house and sat behind the table. The house was like a pigeon coop, with people in and out all day long. My cousins, Klaus’s wife Alma and her sister-in-law, did all the cooking, and it was delicious. For 12 hours, Max and I sat behind the table and ate, drank, opened presents and visited with everyone.

Finally at midnight, Max said, “That’s it!” and we went upstairs to our tiny room, while the party continued on another four hours! We had Sunday to ourselves, and Monday morning Max reported back to work. There was no such thing as a honeymoon.

Max and I lived with my family: Mutti, Frieda and her two kids, Reini and Micky. Reini was ten and Micky was about eight, so there was always something going on. We had a tiny bedroom one flight higher than the apartment, and it had no heat in it.There was one bathroom for all of us and no hot water. We heated our water to bathe. When it got really cold, Max hated it, so we moved downstairs and shared the small living room.

Max introduced me, little by little, to American customs. He wanted me to wear lipstick all the time. He asked me why I wore a full slip.

“At home, the girls wear half slips,” he assured me. So I did that too. The strangest one to me was when he told me that his Mom and sisters and girls in America shave their legs and underarms.

“Seriously?” I made a face. “Yes, and you should, too. It’s much nicer.”

I tried it, and after a few scrapes and scars got the hang of it.

Mutti said it was the dumbest thing she ever heard.

It wasn’t easy to live in such a small space as newlyweds, especially with an American man who was used to more privacy and space. We lived there for about two years, and it’s a wonder our marriage survived those crowded conditions.

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CHAPTER 9

A New Homeland

From the time I was married, I wrote letters to Max’s Mom and Dad. Although I felt like I knew them, I always worried that they wouldn’t accept me as part of the family, but Max assured me that they would. On April 6, 1960, we prepared to leave Germany for the USA and Max’s home in Ohio. I really didn’t understand how far away I was headed. I didn’t realize how much I was leaving behind, and also that I was leaving my beloved country and would never live there again.

I wanted to visit Paula and her family in Belgium before we left, and Mutti went with us for the visit.

“Helga,” Paula told me tearfully, “if you ever want to come home, if things don’t work out, just write to me. I will send you money to get home.” Although Max wasn’t too happy to hear that, it was a gift of love to me from my sister who meant so much to me.

When the day of our flight to America arrived, and we had said our final goodbyes to our friends and neighbors, Mutti, Frieda and Jupp came with us to the airport. I was numb. As the plane rose over Fulda, a part of my heart stayed in that beautiful land. Through the rest of my life, I would remember our homestead and my tree on the hills beneath the Rhön mountains. I would never, never forget the streets of Fulda, the church, my school, the City Park, and all the other places that had a part in making me who I am.

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The journey to Ohio seemed to never end. We drove first to Frankfurt and spent one night at a hotel, waiting for space available on the next flight to New York. From 10:00 am in Frankfurt to New York was fourteen hours, with stops in Shannen, Ireland and also in Newfoundland. Arriving in New York at midnight, it took us three hours to get our luggage, go through customs, find our army assigned motel, and fall completely exhausted into the small cots provided.

“I want to get an early start tomorrow,” Max muttered as he fell asleep.

Our car was shipped from Germany, and when we picked it up at 10:00 am the next morning, it was a welcome sight. It felt like home to me. What I had seen of the USA so far did not impress me. It was the dirtiest place I had ever seen with papers blowing in the streets. Of course, I didn’t get a glimpse of 5th Avenue!

We crossed a river on a ferry boat, which was really fun; then the endless driving began. We drove east through New York state into Pennsylvania. We stopped to eat at a diner. It was old and dark, and I had a few private thoughts and a few wistful feelings for Fulda. Then we drove on again, entering Ohio. About 8:00 that night, we pulled in at Max’s Uncle Don’s house. They weren’t at home; a babysitter was there with their two little girls. I was shocked again. The house was very nice, but not orderly. I had to tell myself, “Helga, you’re not in Germany any more.”

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We drove on. Max pulled over to the side of the road and slept a few hours. “Are we almost there?” I asked.

“Soon.” Max replied.

We drove on through the night. I must have asked Max a hundred times, “Are we almost there?”

Max nodded each time, “Soon. Soon.”

It was about 6:oo am and Max pointed out a ridge. “Almost there!” he said, and this time he meant it. We passed Frank Gay’s house.

“The next house is it!” I could tell how excited he was to come home. I felt my heart pounding and a thousand mixed emotions.

Max hurried to the front door, and his Dad and Mom threw open the door and there was hugging and kissing and “So good to see you again!”

Behind Max, not knowing what to expect, I stood forlornly. Max’s Mom, after welcoming her son with hugs, brought me in and said, “Why, you look just like your wedding pictures!” She won a special place in my heart from that moment on.

That day, Max’s sister Stella and her sons, Rick and Nick, came to the house. They lived in the country, and the house was comfy and neat as a pin. I heard later that Grandma Brewer had come to help them clean house.

She and Stella were working upstairs, and Stella fell down the stairs. Grandma Brewer asked her if she was all right, and Stella said yes she was.

Then Grandma Brewer said, “Well, get back up here and get back to cleaning then!”

Stella took me into town, Gallipolis, to show me around. “I am so glad to have you here, Helga! Now I have a sister!”

I was more fortunate than some German girls that married and came to America. All of Max’s family accepted me right from the start like one of the family. It helped me feel at home in my new country from the very beginning of my life here.

I turned 23 while we were with his parents, and Max took me fishing. We left about 8:00 in the morning. For a few hours, Max would 60

put worms on my line, and I caught fish. At lunch we went to visit with Grandpa Brewer, then back to the creek. After laying in the sun, watching Max fish, and walking along the creek, I was ready to call it a day.

“In a little bit!” Max said.

But the little bit extended so long that I was an angry birthday girl by evening when we finally went back home.

Max and I stayed with his parents in the country for a month.

We had some good times with friends Bob and Carol. There were nights out at a really wild honky-tonk dance bar. Max had five more months serve with the Army, and we moved on to Fort Bragg, North Carolina.

For the first time, we got to live in our own place. It was a small furnished apartment.

We felt like we were on a honeymoon. On weekends we went to the drive in movie. This one had two screens, so if you didn’t like one movie you could drive around and watch the other one. Sometimes we stayed until 5:00 am, then went home to sleep until early afternoon the next day.

1963, Ohio

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At times I longed for Germany again, especially during my first summer months in the states. It was so hot and humid compared to the foothills of the Rhön.

When Max was finallly finished with the Army, we moved back in with his Mom and Dad for another three months while he looked for a job. Mom and Dad left in the mornings for work, and Roger and David went to school. I helped Mom with the housework.

Max usually went in to town, and often would be gone for anywhere from five to twelve hours. I was alone a lot in my new country, spending time walking and often, crying.

Sometimes I walked to the school where Max’s Mom worked, picking flowers along the way and then riding home with her in the car.

One evening, I couldn’t take it any more. After dark, I quietly left the house and walked about three miles into town to a bar where I thought I would find Max. He was there, shocked to see me walk in.

“We need to talk,” I said.

I threatened to return to Germany if Max would not spend more time with me and get a job. Before I left home, Paula offered me airfare to come back if I needed to, and I was almost ready.

Max promised to shape up. He bartended for a while, then found work in construction. Things were better between us, but he was working away from town a lot through the week and then came home on the weekends.

Meanwhile, there was a job opening at Duke’s Cleaners. I went on a Saturday for an interview with the owner, Forrest Clark. I wore a suit I had made.

Oh no, he’s looking at me,” I thought to myself. “I know he is not going to hire me.” But everything went great and he told me to come for work on Monday.

I knew everything about women’s clothes, but nothing about men’s clothes. Mr. Clark taught me how to take zippers out of men’s pants and then how to sew them in. I thought he was very nice and the best boss ever. It was good steady work, but I had to put up with an old maid there that made my life miserable. She criticized my clothes, my looks, my makeup, my English and whatever else she could think of. I never told anyone how badly she treated me.

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For a short time, when Max found work, we rented an 8’x36’ mobile home, where we met our good friends, Betty Jones and her sister who lived next to us. Then we found an apartment in Gallipolis and bought a few pieces of furniture.

Since Max was often gone all week, we made every minute of the weekend count. We joined the Elks and had lots of friends. We had good times, and shared a lot of those times with Bob and Carol. Max and Bob were always together.

Laughing at the two, Carol said, “Let’s get divorced so they can marry each other!”

In 1964, Mutti came to visit us to see how I was doing. She was proud of me, especially that I had a drivers’ license. We bought a second car before she came, and my friend, Betty, taught me how to drive.

I was glad to have a job, but working at Duke’s Cleaners got old after a while. I worked six days a week for five years, with one week vacation a year. The last year I was there, I needed to take time off to pick up Mutti coming from Germany. The manager said she needed me that day and I couldn’t get off. This time I asked Mr. Clark, because it was so important to me to welcome Mutti.

He said, “Of course you can!”

After that incident, Mr. Clark realized how badly I had been treated. The unkind manager was transferred to another location.

Mutti was with us four months, and everyone loved her and her great sense of humor. It didn’t even matter that she spoke no English!

I took two weeks of swimming lessons while she was with me. She came along to watch me until I finally could stay afloat.

I was happy when Max was transferred to St. Albins, West Virginia. His company was reorganized and renamed CLT- Cole, Layer, Trumble. We bought a mobile home, and the company paid to have it moved. We didn’t make much money that year, but I was free as a bird and glad for the change, except for one thing. Our mobile home was on a lot close to Union Carbide and the whole area smelled with strong fumes from the factory.

Before, Max worked away on construction projects through the week and came home weekends. Here, we were together. I was happy and even relaxed for that year.

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CHAPTER 10

Family

For the next few months, I didn’t feel well. I had never had such stomach problems before, and Max was worried. He sent me to a a doctor in Gallipolis.

“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor assured me. “Your morning sickness is temporary, and all you need to do is begin taking these vitamins.”

I was amazed. It never occurred to either Max or myself that after ten years of marriage, I might be pregnant. It didn’t take me very long to realize how happy I could be with a child to love and nurture. I called Stella to tell her the news. She didn’t believe me, and thought I was joking.

“It’s true!” I assured her. “I really am expecting a baby after all these years.”

Stella wanted to share the excitement and asked if she could call Carol and surprise her with the news.

“Sure!” I smiled.

Max’s Mom and Dad were returning from Florida at the time.

Although Max was worried that something might go wrong, I couldn’t wait to tell them. They were thrilled, and later, Mom told me she dreamed we had a girl who looked just like me.

Somehow the knowledge that I was pregnant made the morning sickness disappear. I was on Cloud 9 and never felt better. My friend noticed a special glow about me and said I was the prettiest pregnant 64

woman she had ever seen. It was a most magical time.

Max’s job took us to Chillicothe, Ohio. Our mobile home there had one bedroom. We fixed one small room as a nursery. As the due date approached, Max didn’t want me to be alone waiting for the baby to come. He asked Grandma Brewer to stay with us. She got the bedroom, I slept on the couch, and Max slept on the floor beside me.

I first felt labor pangs on a Saturday morning, but it went slowly.

Saturday night, Sunday all day, Sunday night, Monday all day, Monday night...

Max kept checking on me nervously, “Are you all right? Are you all right?”

Our baby girl was born on Tuesday evening. “Dr. Manning,” I wanted to know, “Does she have arms and legs and is everything all right?”

The doctor smiled and assured me, “Yes. Everything. She is beautiful.”

That was absolutely the happiest moment of my life. I was more than happy, a moment so special there are not words to describe it. I looked into those dark wide eyes, and everything in me turned to love.

“She is sooo little!” said Max laughing, “But she sure has big feet!”

We named her Tonja Babette.

Grandma Brewer was proud to be the first relative to see her.

Max took a week off from work to take care of us. He wanted to make everything just right. The house was spotless, the sheets and towels were laundered and there was never even a cup in the sink. Maybe it was his military training, but he knew exactly what to do.

That year, Max did all the Christmas shopping. He bought a little tree and a small red stuffed dog for Tonja. As we drove to Gallipolis for Christmas day, it was our first outing with our baby.

“Drive carefully, Max,” I said, “we have a very precious cargo”.

“We sure do!” he replied.

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Tonja was just seven months old when Max’s company moved us to Atlanta, Georgia. We actually lived in Conyer, outside the city, because Max hated the constant traffic. Our mobile home under the tall Georgia pines was pleasant. I pushed Tonja in her stroller and talked to the neighbors. Elvira, who lived behind us, became my best friend for life.

Since I didn’t have to work, I could enjoy raising my daughter and of course, sewed many of her clothes. We made other friends at the local Archery Club.

It was strange to me to see some of the evidences of segregation like separate water fountains and bathrooms for the Black population in those times.

I came to the USA with a green card, and it was during this time I began studying for my citizenship. When I was naturalized, an oral witness came from Gallipolis to confirm my residency. I became a US citizen in Atlanta in 1968.

The day I became an American citizen.

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Forrest Clark pulling into the dock to pick us up.

Mutti visited us again, this time to enjoy her granddaughter who was a toddler at the time. Tonja chattered constantly by then. It was “Mommy, mommy, mommy all day long”. She wanted to know everything.

Max’s company was doing well, and Max was transferred again. We bought our first house in Quaker Hills, Pennsylvania. I loved the area, and of course I had flowers in the yard. It was near the Amish country.

Occasionally, we visited Max’s parents in Gallipolis. Forrest Clark, my former boss at Duke Cleaners, had a boat at that time and 67

invited us at times to enjoy a day on the Ohio River.

We got Tonja a little black toy poodle. Unfortunately she was allergic to it, and we had to take it back after only five days with us.

Soon, though, Tonja started kindergarten and loved school.

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CHAPTER 11

Ohio

I liked Pennsylvania. There were Amish markets offering fresh produce and wonderful baked goods. It was a friendly area. We lived there until 1971. Tonja took dance lessons with “Miss Eloise”. For her first recital she and the others wore little butterfly costumes. Max didn’t have time to go with us to all her activities, but I treasured my times with Tonja.

When Tonja was 5, Max and I took her on her first trip to Germany where she met many of her aunts and uncles and cousins. We stayed with Mutti in her apartment in Fulda. I was delighted to be with my mom and show Tonja where I grew up.

Max’s company (CLT) continued to prosper, and Max was up for a senior managerial position.

One memorable day, Max came home and said, “We are going to take a trip to Dayton. The home office wants me to move to Ohio!”

I expected we would drive there in a day or so, then Max went on, “So get yourself and Tonja ready to leave!”

A private company plane was sent to pick us up and fly all three of us to Ohio. Max’s secretary, Rita, took care of Tonja and I for the day.

It was exciting! Rita treated us really well. I got to pick out carpet and curtains for the beautiful tri-level house that Max had found for us.

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Back home, before bedtime that night, Tonja asked me, “Would it be all right if I said Rita was prettier than you?”

I had to laugh. We decided she looked like the actress Jessica Lange.

Shortly after that, we were moved back to Ohio. This time we settled in Dayton. Max became Senior Vice President in charge of Operations.

I kept busy with Tonja’s activities and school. One time there was a party with games. The mothers each put a name of a character on their back, and the kids tried to guess who they were. Well, I chose Batman. The funny thing was that I wrote “Badman” (thinking in German) on my back, and everyone got a good laugh.

Max was completely immersed in his business and not always available for Tonja’s recitals and other events. As always, he was also actively involved at the Elks Club and spent a lot of time there.

I wanted to visit Fulda again and show Tonja, now eight years old, the places where I had grown up and loved so much. This time, she would remember meeting her faraway cousins, aunts and uncles, and other relatives. Max

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could not get away, so Tonja and I flew to Germany in September.

From there we visited the Black Forest and the castle in Heidelberg. We traveled along the Rhine River to Belgium to visit with Paula. It was a wonderful three weeks and quite an experience for Tonja. She did enjoy the trip, although she wrote this to her Dad, “The plane ride from Chicago to Frankfurt was great! The food on the 747 was TERRIFIC, I loved it. But after we got to Omi’s tiny winy itsy bitsy apartment... I only got to eat buttered noodles because that’s all Omi has.”

Alfons and I went out to where the old homestead had been, The building and barn were long gone and a school had been built there. I was delighted to see that my tree was still there, continuously maintained and protected by the city gardeners. I met Gerhard Noll, who had built a house beside my tree and shared my love for that tree.

We picked up the school activities and lessons again in Tipp City.

Tonja loved animals, especially our cocker spaniel, Breezy. We took several vacations, one to the Grand Canyon, another to Marina del Ray in California. Tonja began high school. At the close of one year, Max got a huge bonus and bought a Corvette.

I loved our house in Dayton, but Max and I struggled to

My tree

Alfons shares a toast with me Tonja near Heidelbert Castle, with Mutti and Alfons behind her.

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keep our relationship through the pressures of his work. He seemed to cope by ignoring obvious problems.

By the early 1980’s the tensions at CLR were showing effects on Max. The company was sold three times. Max had now worked for CLT for 20 years. The new owner decided to give the Vice President position to his son and demote Max.

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Max’s anxiety increased when his Dad was diagnosed with cancer, and he drove back and forth to Gallipolis helping him in his last days.

Finally, Max couldn’t see any future in CLT, and he resigned.

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CHAPTER 12

Texas

For months, Max sent out resumés, searching for another job.

He had lost the company car and was worried about making ends meet. It was a tough time for all of us. At last, he got an offer from Dallas, Texas. He accepted a position as manager in the Dallas Central Appraisal District and went to Texas in April to begin work.

We stayed in Tipp City until after Tonja’s graduation, and then put the house up for sale for the move. We found that housing was more expensive, but salaries were lower than we had in Ohio.

Tonja didn’t want to move, and asked if she could stay with a friend and finish high school in Ohio. We wouldn’t think of leaving her behind. We settled in Desoto, south of Dallas, where Tonja finished and graduated high school.

After two years in Desoto, we settled down in Cedar Hill in a very nice home. Max got a boat on Cedar Creek Lake and we went there a lot of weekends. He found the local Elks Club right away and spent a lot of time there, as he had in Ohio.

Tonja entered business school where she excelled. Max was pleased. He always wanted her to succeed and be self sufficient. Tonja graduated top of her class and was flown to New York for an interview, but she decided to stay in Texas. I was actually happy that she stayed nearby, but realized at the same time I needed to find something to fill 74

the time I had spent with her and her activities.

A friend of mine introduced me to Transart Industries, a home decorating company that sold artwork, furniture and drapery through in-home consultations. After looking into it, I decided to take on a new endeavor. In just two weeks, I earned the title of “Key Designer�. It was just what I needed at that time. I put a lot of time and effort into the sales. I loved interacting with people and going to occasional conventions and training sessions.

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Mutti was battling stomach cancer. I dreaded every letter that came from Germany detailing her deteriorating condition. Frieda, Alfons and Ellie and Paula took turns caring for her. When I got to Fulda, it was actually a relief to be there with my mom, so I could do something to help. I spent special time with her in her last days-so many memories, so many smiles, so much love. Mutti died at 86 years old.

Max still spent a lot of time at his work, even here in Texas.

Since he had a boat at Cedar Creek Lake, we went often whenever the Mutti with Alfons and Ellie, and Mutti with me

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weather was good. Of course, we also frequented the nearby Elks Club.

We made some lifelong friends then, friends who were supportive over the difficult years to come.

Our marriage was in trouble. I coped with depression by writing journals and power walking. When I tried to talk to Max about it and said I needed more in life, he replied, “You have everything.” It was the end of discussion.

Five years after my Mutti died, my brother Alfons was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I had to see him. Again, it was a relief to me to be with him in person. Alfons died later in 1992. I dried rose petals from my garden and sent them to Paula to place on his grave.

Max hated his job. He was miserable and unhappy.

I worried about his health because he smoked heavily and drank in excess. I continued to write journals and took power walks to help me cope with the tension.

Meanwhile Tonja made a new friend. She and Jeff had

Boating on the “Babett” was a regular pastime.

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a blind date, and found that they both loved horses. They spent a lot of time at the stables. When a wedding was being planned, they wanted something very different, very personal for them. I was delighted with the horse drawn carriage and their wedding photographs on horseback.

I made Tonja’s dress, and it was a fairy tale wedding.

Boating filled our leisure time, and sometimes, when we visited Max’s mom and other relatives in Ohio, we were invited to sail with

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Forrest Clark on his boat. That was always fun. By this time, he was no longer “Mr. Clark�, and we were on a firstname basis. His wife, Phyllis, was not well. They had lost a son years ago, and she never adjusted to the loss. Phyllis never came out of the house much, and Forrest enjoyed the companionship with Max and me. We had a lot of friends in the area in common.

My first grandchild was born in 1996, and when he was a little older, Tonja, Jeff and Jackson made a few trips with us to Ohio to visit with friends and relatives.

Tonja was concerned for Max, and sometimes got fed up with his lack of attention to me and to her son, Jackson.

Max and his Mom with Forrest She wrote him a letter listing her concerns, one of which was his health on his boat in Ohio

Forrest, friends with Max and me on his boat

Jeff, Tonja and Jackson

Max on his boat at Cedar Creek Lake in Texas

Max and I with his Mom and Tonja, Jeff and Jackson

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problems made worse by smoking. She wrote about his selfishness. “You always made sure that we had everything we needed, but there was something missing... you gave things, but never your time...�

Max read the letter but didn’t change anything.

Max was still working at the Dallas Central Appraisal District, when he began to have seizures. I noticed problems. One time when were on the way back from boating on Cedar Creek Lake, Max seemed dazed. We were pulling the boat, and he was barely going ten miles an hour. I insisted and drove home. Max had experienced a grand mal siezure and was diagnosed with hydrocephalus. Surgery was necessary.

After the surgery, his progress was very slow. His co-workers at the office helped him keep his job by filling in for him when necessary.

He continued to work until he was vested, and then he retired on disability after employment of 11 years.

I was glad to have Tonja nearby. My granddaughter, Savannah, was born in 1999. I tried to fill my life with my daughter and her 80

husband and their children.

Life with Max was almost intolerable by then. He had become withdrawn and hostile. I tried to work through our problems. My response was to keep peace, stuff my unhappiness, and enjoy my daughter’s family as much as possible.

One time, my son-in-law, seeing how distressed I was, told me, “You know, you don’t have to put up with this...” It was the first time I even thought of finding a solution.

One Sunday, we talked. I wanted Max to change, to interact with life and with me. I wanted a new start, and I wanted him to engage with life. I wanted him to be my husband, to share my life.

Max had no response, and I realized it came down to my choice.

I could live his life or mine.

I chose mine.

We did not part as enemies. Max said he would move back to Ohio, and I could stay in the house in Dallas.

He said, “I’ll leave tomorrow, and I won’t be back.”

Max signed a waiver, and I took care of the legal matters for our divorce.

Then I drove him back to Ohio and took a plane back to Texas to live alone.

Our Cedar HIll home

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CHAPTER 13

Forrest

I knew it would be difficult for me to make ends meet and make the house payment every month. I was on my own and happy with my situation. I had no insurance and no health care, but I thought to myself, “I grew up under the heavens full of stars. We had clean air, and gathered food from the woods and fields. Mutti baked our bread, and I had everything.� I knew that what I had now was enough.

Jeff and Tonja bought a house to renovate that had a stable and land for horses. They moved in with me before Christmas with Jackson and Savannah and stayed with me almost seven months.

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A friend of mine hired me to work at his shop at the World Trade Center. With that, I could make the house payment. Sometimes, I went dancing with my friends Jean and Gabe at the VFW.

I kept in touch with Max by phone and always asked him about his family and Forrest, whose wife had passed away.

One night, out of the blue, Forrest called me. “I sold my boat, Helga. “I bought a big motor home instead.”

I laughed. You’ll just have to come and see me in Texas on one of your trips.”

About a year later, talking with Max, I asked, “And how is Forrest?”

“He looks like hell. I saw him at the Elks Club and he isn’t doing so well.”

Concerned, I decided to give him a call. Forrest had been very seriously ill. He recently underwent a colon operation and had complications with infection.

“Funny you should call right now, Helga,” he said. “I am planning a trip in the motor home. I have hired a driver, Jimmy, and want to go see my daughter-in-law in Kansas City. We will pass through Texas, and I thought I would stop and see you.” Forrest had kept in touch with his daughter-in-law occasionally through the years.

“That’s fantastic!” I replied enthusiastically, always ready to visit with old friends.

He asked me where I lived, and then, curiously, “What do you look like now?”

I wondered if he thought I had gotten fat or something, and chuckled, “I am about the same, just a lot older!”

In August, Forrest and Jimmy arrived in Duncanville. I met them off the highway, and they followed me home in the huge motor home, which I thought was as big as a Greyhound bus. A station wagon with wood sides was hitched behind it.

My neighbor said, “It looks like a really big deal!”

“Yes it is!”, I told him. “A really big deal!”

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Forrest said he and Jimmy were going to stay about two weeks in the area. They hooked up the motor home at Cedar Hill State Park for the duration.

We had a lot of fun while on that visit. I showed Forrest and Jimmy around Dallas and Cedar Hill. We pretty much ate every meal together- breakfast, lunch and dinner, sometimes at my house, other times trying different restaurants.

Jimmy had to get dialysis on a regular basis, so we found him a clinic in downtown Dallas.

At the end of their first week in Cedar Hill, Jimmy cornered me. “You know, Helga,” he blurted out, “Forrest is madly in love with you.”

Shocked, I paused a minute, then said calmly, “Jimmy, that’s crazy. We are just friends. We have been friends for a very long time.”

Jimmy was adamant. “Yes, he is.” He smiled and shook his head.

I had to think about that. I had no expectations. I enjoyed Forrest’s company, I always had, but as I let myself really think about it, I knew there had always been some kind of special bond between us. I thought about meeting him as my boss and how kind he had been. I smiled with the memories of him teaching me to alter men’s clothing. I remembered how relieved I was when I finally told him about Catherine, the manager who harrassed me, and he sent her to another location.

I remembered sailing on his boat, always with Max and sometimes, Tonja. Forrest and I would sit on the bow in the sun and talk about family and life in general. I never imagined any life apart from Max, but I was nurtured by the real conversations that Forrest and I had; discussions that Max wouldn’t have with me.

Through the years I’d known Forrest, I always had concern for him. He had so faithfully cared for his wife through years of sef-denial.

As friends, I admired his patience and what he had gone through.

I thought to myself in a new realization, “I believe I do love Forrest!” It was a surprise to me, but it was completely and absolutely real.

“I’m in love!” I thought and felt free as a bird and happier than I’d probably ever been in my life.

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The very next day Jimmy was at dialysis and Forrest and I were alone together.

Forrest sat beside me and said, “I have fallen.”

I knew what he meant. “How hard?” I asked.

“Hard.” Forrest said.

Forrest didn’t want to waste any time. “You can ride back to Ohio with us, and then I could fly back with you.”

I did some fast thinking. I loved him, but this arrangement would not work for me.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” I said, wanting to think about all this a bit more.

The next day Forrest and I took up the subject for earnest.

“Before you can come here, there are some little words I have to hear.” I said.

“I love you!”

“I know that. Those are not the right words!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Those are the right words!”

“Let’s get married right now!”

“That won’t work for me.” I explained that I needed to give notice at my job at the World Trade Center. I had other obligations. I promised to go with my friend Catherine to California in September to visit her sister.

A few evenings after that Jeff and Tonja joined us for a fun dinner at the Oasis on Joe Pool Lake. Jeff noticed Forrest and I holding hands under the table.

He told Tonja that something was going on. When I told them that Forrest and I were getting engaged, Tonja lost it.

“You can’t marry him, mother!” she said.

“Yes, I can. I know him, and I’m going to get him back on his feet.” I was absolutely sure of myself.

The next day, my friend Catherine and I were talking, and I mentioned that I had gone to Walmart. “We were looking for a couple pair of shorts,” I said. “It’s kind of hard to find size 48, so I talked him into trying on the 46 size.”

I was just rambling on, and didn’t notice my friend’s reaction. Of 85

Earlier days in Gallipolis- as a sponsor of the community parade showing the car Forrest built.

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course I was talking about Jimmy, not Forrest.

She called Tonja that night. “What is your mother doing?” she asked her. “This just doesn’t sound like your mother, interested in an overweight ex-marine with tattoos!”

She and Tonja decided someone had to intervene.

The next day, some Catherine and her husband were coming for dinner. I got a phone call from Tonja.

“Mom, you need to come over tonight at 6:30.”

“Sorry, Tonja, I can’t. I have plans already. Will tomorrow do?”

“No. Cancel your plans. You have to come.”

It was an order, not an invitation. I wondered what was up.

“OK dear, then I will make some arrangements and see you tonight.”

When I walked in their house and sat down, Tonja handed me a list of ten items of concern that she had about me marrying Forrest.

The first thing on the list is the only thing I remember. It was, “How do you know you and Forrest are compatible?” I was thinking to myself, “I’m 67 years old, and I think I know a few things. And yes, I know we are compatible; I’ve known him since my first job in 1961!”

Jeff came into the room, and calmly explained that he and Tonja were concerned that I would make a good choice.

“I’m leaving”, I said, and ended the counseling session. In time, my daughter and her husband realized just how perfect the match was between Forrest and me.

I had known Forrest almost from the time I moved from Germany. worked for him at the cleaners in Gallipolis. Forrest was one of those men that created one success after another. Besides several expansions to the dry cleaning business, he owned a machine shop, laundromats, a car wash, a partnership in a restaurant and owned other real estate. He was also the president of Peoples Bank. Forrest was also well known and involved in community affairs, including the Veterans of Foreign Wars, the Coast Guard Auxiliary, the Chamber of Commerce, the Elks Club and others. One of his best friends since school days was Bob Evans, of the restaurant chain.

Forrest’s Military Medals and Honors from WW2.

Forrest and best friend, Bob Evans, seventeen years old.

Forrest had also served with Audie Murphy in World War II-US Army, the legendary 3rd Infantry Division. He earned several medals, including two Purple Hearts and the Bronze Star. He received a Presidential Unit Citation for Sharp-Shooter for Rifle.

I knew this man. Max and I had spent a lot of time with him through the years. I knew his reputation and his character, and I knew he was the right man for me.

The next day, Catherine came to see me. It was hysterical to see her reaction when she realized I had been referring to Jimmy in our conversation, and she saw Forrest for the first time.

I realized that my friends and family were concerned for me at

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what they thought was a hasty decision, but I knew that this was right. I knew Forrest for many years, and we had been friends all those years. I knew what kind of man he was, and I loved him. There was no question in my mind or heart.

I helped Forrest gain back his health. We started by walking in the park every day.

“Like this, Forrest,” I would show him. “Heel, toe, heel, toe!” I did everything I could think of to help him.

And it did make a difference.

Forrest and I needed to tell one more person about our engagement. I drove with him and Jimmy to see Kay, his daughter.

When he walked in, Forrest said, “I have a big surprise for you!”

She smiled. “I already heard!” she said. Forrest was a prominent person in the area and word travels quickly.

“Bring her in!”, and she came out to welcome me.

We had a big engagement party in Ohio with friends, some that Forrest knew and some that I knew from living and visiting there. A German friend of mine who knew Max and Forrest both, congratulated me on my engagement.

He said, “The good Lord put a huge umbrella over both of you, to bring you together through hard times.”

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I arrived home from my trip with Catherine to California on October 3rd. On the 4th, Forrest was on my doorstep! We planned our wedding. Tonja was my wedding coordinator. Everywhere we went to make arrangements, the consultants obviously thought Tonja was the bride-to-be.

I remember Forrest went with me to find shoes to match my dress. I picked out the perfect pair, and Forrest said, “ Do you think you should get two pair, just in case a heel breaks?” It was a small thing, but it touched me. Not only was he generous, but he thought of my personal welfare.

Tonja made sure the wedding was wonderful, absolutely beautiful. It was held at the Hotel Adolphus in Dallas on December 31st, 2004. Forrest’s best man was Bob Evans, and Jean Brown was my matron of honor. We celebrated with a dinner buffet and a swing band in the hotel’s ballroom.

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We honeymooned in Maui for two weeks.

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CHAPTER 14

A Fairy Tale Begins...

Forrest and I lived in my pretty little house in Cedar Hill. His favorite thing was to sit beside me and hold my hand.

“I want to hold your hand”, he said. “Bury us next to each other, and I will hold your hand forever!”

Jeff’s father, Bill Millet, performed the wedding ceremony, and summed up the event perfectly for us: “A forty-year friendship turned into a lifetime of love; let the romance begin!”

Forrest spoiled me every way he could think of. I never had to worry about making ends meet again. He bought me a T-Bird.

I told him, “You’ll never top that!” I knew I was “Cinderella”, at least to him. Mostly though, Forrest gave me exhilarating happiness, and he loved me just the way I am.

Whatever we did, we were always together. Home was cozy and relaxed, playing chess and having a brandy around three every afternoon. Very soon after our marriage, Forrest let me know what he wanted to do.

“Helga,” he said, “I have been so tied down with my businesses

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and my wife who couldn’t leave home, that now I want to travel.”

“Where would you like to go?” I asked, mentally thinking about a trip to Europe or the Caribbean.

“I want to see the world!” he exclaimed. “And I want to spend money!”

It sounded like a great idea to me, but I had no idea how much of the world the two of us would see in the years ahead.

“Let’s decide where you want to go first,” I said. “I have a friend who is a travel agent who can help us make arrangements.”

Forrest was experiencing heart problems.

In February, he underwent a triple bypass surgery. It didn’t slow him down for long. Surgery like this usually requires up to 12 weeks recovery, but not for Forrest.

There were so many places he wanted to explore, and his enthusiasm boosted the healing process.

I wanted Forrest to see where I grew up in Fulda, so Germany was a priority. In the spring of our first year together, we made that trip. We were in Germany five weeks. I couldn’t have been happier introducing my beloved Forrest to Paula and other friends and relatives.

We visited my tree on the old homestead together.

Forrest’s wish to travel was unfolding, and he celebrated his birthday that May in Vienna!

Paula approves!

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My home town, Fulda, Germany!

Forrest loved travelling!

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Forrest loved my family, I think as much as I do. Tonja’s two children, Jackson and Savannah, were lots of fun. Together Forrest and I sat at ballgames, went to concerts, attended school events,and enjoyed family gatherings on holdays and other special occasions.

We loved spending time with friends, both my friends and his friends. We continued his lifelong friendship with Bob Evans and his wife in Ohio.

Between trips abroad, we we travelled in the US. We drove south to San Antonio to enjoy the RiverWalk, and see the Alamo.

Las Vegas was another fun destination.

Then we made plans with my half-brother Reinhold and his wife, Gisela. Our trip was with Swiss Queen Cruises, and we leisurely floated the Rhine River through Europe.

I continued the tradition of making a “Zuckertute” when Savannah began school.

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Old friends, new times... Forrest and Bob enjoy their lifetime of friendship together again.

Forrest’s wish to see the world never diminished. Through the eleven years we had together, we criss-crossed the globe many times, and explored the USA as well.

We visited every continent except Africa. Sometimes we traveled with friends, sometimes we met friends around the world, and always we made new friends along the way. Our friends at home would greet us with, “Where are you headed next?" We were absolutely full of ideas and plans, making the most of our time together.

Touring Florida and the Keys- Little Pine Island

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Forrest asked me, in our early years together, “Did all your dreams come true?”

I honestly replied, “I could never have dreamed that big!”

I didn’t say aloud what was in my head; that my biggest dreams were to have a cozy home and a baby, and my former husband really didn’t want either of those. The most valuable gift Forrest gave me was himself, completely and happily, and he showed it by holding hands constantly with his gentle smile and sweet attentiveness.

In August, 2007, it was off to Napa Valley, Sonoma and San Francisco.

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California Holding hands as always, traveling with friends Van and Ginger.

Back home in Texas - relaxing with the dogs on Tonja’s porch.

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2007 - SEEING THE WORLD: Regent Seas Voyager: Baltic Adventure

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THE BALTIC

In the palace of Catherine the Great St. Petersburg, Russia

Itinerary:

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2008 - SEEING THE WORLD:

CHINA

Abercrombie and Kent Tours

What a journey! What an experience together! Arriving in Hong Kong, we slept in the Sofitel Hotel. The next day we rode the Peak Tram to Victoria Peak for a panorama of the Harbour.

Later, we weathered a typhoon leaving Hong Kong, waiting three hours in rain slicks on the airplane. Everything was SO unique and different than anything we had ever seen or heard. Walking the

Our Viking Ship on the Yangtze River 102

Wall of China was incredible. Watching the giant pandas was amazing.

We were transported by rickshaw and sampan, and it seemed we were not only in another country, but in another time and civilization.

Our favorite memory was Emperor Qin’s Terracotta Army in Xi’an.The experience of viewing hundreds of lifesized warriors, each with distinctive features, standing shoulder to shoulder ready for battle in the afterlife was powerful and unforgettable.

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2009 - SEEING THE WORLD:

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MEDITERRANEAN

OCEANIA MIS REGATTA: Whispers of Antiquity Italy, Greece, Turkey, Istanbul

2009 - SEEING THE WORLD:

WASHINGTON, DC Enjoying the luxuries of Embassy Row and visiting the monuments that memorialized Forrest’s legacies.

Between cruises and world destinations , we enjoyed trips of four or five days to New York, London, Paris, Rome, and Washington, DC.

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2010 - SEEING THE WORLD:

SOUTH AMERICA

Oceana Cruises: Samba Rhythms

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Rio de Janerio, Brazil; Buenos Aires, Argentina; Uruguay

GOOD TIMES WITH FAMILY:

THE TIMES BETWEEN

Home was our favorite destination.

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2010 - SEEING THE WORLD:

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AUSTRALIA

Australia, New Zealand, Tasmania

Regent Cruises: Kangaroos, Koalas and Kiwis

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2011 - SEEING THE WORLD:

EUROPE

Regent 7 Seas Voyager: World Cruise Italy, France, Spain, Portugal, England

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Making our wishes at the fountain in Rome

Normandy, France

2012 - SEEING THE WORLD:

WESTERN EUROPE

England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Jersey and Channel Islands

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2012 - SEEING THE WORLD:

CENTRAL AMERICA

Regent 7 Seas Navigator: Realm of the Maya

Relaxing in our spacious stateroom aboard the Navigator

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Cozumel, Belize, Guatemala, Cayman Islands

2012 - SEEING THE WORLD:

Regent 7 Seas Navigator: Grand Alaska

NORTH AMERICA

Seward, Glacier, Sitka, Juneau, Ketchikan and Vancouver, Canada

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One of my favorite places-Zermatt, Switzerland 114

2013 - SEEING THE WORLD:

OUR FAVORITE TRIP Abercrombie and Kent Private Itinerary

When Forrest and I went to Germany, Switzerland and Austria in 2013, it became the most memorable of all our travels together.

Working with our travel agent, we were booked into the most exclusive hotels and chauffeured privately along our entire itinerary. It was an experience created just for us.

We flew to Germany, and Forrest held my hand all along the way. And there were flowers - flowers in our hotel rooms, flowers at our dining tables, bouquets for me to enjoy, even rose petals on our bedding. We sipped a glass of brandy each evening in our private and luxurious quarters. It was perfect.

When we arrived in Frankfurt the local “guardian angel�, provided by Abercrombie and Kent, introduced us to our driver for private transfer to Baden-Baden on the edge of the Black Forest. We relaxed after the long flight in the most elegant hotel we ever stayed at, the 140 year old Brenners Park- Hotel & Spa.

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2013 - SEEING THE WORLD:

OUR FAVORITE TRIP (CONTINUED)

Glacier Express, Switzerland

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From the 2000 year old Roman bath ruins and the spas of Baden-Baden, we explored further. Traveling by private vehicle we arrived at Zermatt, a city where no gasoline engines are allowed, and the air is clean and crisp. We could see the mighty Matterhorn from the window of the Grand Zermatterhof Hotel, built in the 1870’s by the citizens of the city.

That evening we met the tour’s “guardian angel” for dinner at a 5-Star restaurant where her husband is the Chef, and the hotel picked up the tab. The morning after that, she drove us to catch the Glacier Express which connects the mountain resorts of Zermatt and St. Mortiz. Chugging along the narrow gauge tracks for eight hours over 291 bridges and through 91 tunnels with spectacular scenery through the Alps, we held hands all along the way.

In St. Mortiz, we slept two nights in Badrutt’s Palace Hotel, built with its tower in 1896. After some local sightseeing, a private driver escorted us through the Alps to Bavaria. We were amazed at the glittering magnificence of Ludwig II’s Linderhof retreat but missed the horse and carriage ride to Neuschwanstein Castle because of bad weather.

Rose petals on our bed!

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There was more. We visited Munich, staying in the exclusive Charles Hotel, and enjoyed the private tour of Munich with the Olympia Stadium and the baroque Palace of Nymphenburg.

Driving the scenic route via Kinkelsbuhl and Nordingen, we arrived in Heidelberg. There we toured the Heidelburg Castle and relaxed afterward at the luxurious Der Europaische Jof Hotel.

Finally, we rested in Frankfurt before we returned home with a suitcase full of memories from two weeks of heaven!

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CHAPTER 12

Together

That favorite trip was in August of 2013. We enjoyed family and friends for a month at home, then in October, we took another trip on the “7 Seas Navigator” with Regent Cruises. It was called “Rustic Harbors”. We dipped in and out along the Eastern USA coastline, seeing New York City, Rhode Island, and Boston. Then we visited Halifax, Nova Scotia and finally took in the quaint architecture of Quebec.

Forrest tired more quickly than before. I noticed little things, that showed he was just not as nimble, physically or mentally, as he had been till now.

In April of 2014, our destination was the Atlantis Resort in the Bahamas. After that, I wanted to take Tonja and her family to see Fulda. I wanted them to have a sense of heritage from my growing up years, where I had been so very happy. Tonja had been there before, of course, and Forrest, too. But this time, Forrest and I were accompanied

by Jeff and Tonja and my two grandchildren, Jackson and Savannah.

We walked the streets of Fulda where I lived as a teenager. We saw the old Baroque cathedral, the St. Michael’s Church, the Abbey, and the Stadtschloss, (castle). We shopped on Bahnhofstraße, and I pointed out where Mutti, Frieda and I lived. Best of all, we drove to the valley where the Old Homestead had stood. My tree is still there, protected by the City Gardener. I have visited it every time I returned to 121

2014 FAMILY JOURNEY TO OUR ROOTS:

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GERMANY

My family beside my tree where the old homestead used to stand.

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Fulda, as one of my best German friends. It lives now in Gerhard Noll’s yard, and what used to be fields are now neighborhoods with streets and homes. With all the changes, my tree still stands.

My mind was fillled with memories as I stood beside that tree, this time with my daughter and grandchildren beside me. My heart was filled with gratitude that I could return here with my family and Forrest holding my hand.

As we drove around in two vehicles and saw other sights in Germany, I could see that Forrest was struggling physically to keep up the pace with all of us. Jeff and the others helped tremendously, and Forrest had the use of a wheel chair. His smile was always there, but I could tell he was not able to enjoy the demands of travel as he had before. I realized that this might be Forrest’s last experience in seeing the world. There would be no more trips for him after this one.

Max died that year. I thought of him sadly and wished that he could have overcome his problems and been happy. Surprisingly, I got a letter from Vera, the girl from Max’s past in Germany. She wrote that she wanted to see if he was still alive and had called him about a year ago. She asked him what went wrong with his marriage. He told her he made many mistakes and was always very selfish. That was the only apology I ever got from Max, and it wasn’t even from him directly.

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Cedar Hill had grown from an small intimate community of 6,000 to a populated city of 45,000 over the 28 years I lived there.

Forrest and I moved to a different house, due to safety issues in the neighborhood. I hated to leave that house, but it was necessary. Our new place was in a gated community where we made friends right away. I made Forrest as comfortable as possible, but he never got used to the house. Sometimes he was confused how the rooms were arranged. I could tell he was not functioning completely. I hired a home health care nurse to help me three days a week.

I knew that life as we had experienced it together was over.

No more going dancing or traveling or dinners at fine restaurants.

The memories of our travels together would sustain us. We could remininsce about London at the Ritz with High Tea and the private tour of Buckingham Palace, but Forrest could not do all that any more.

At times I had to call for help to move him. Jeff came, and the neighbors at times, and once a fire truck. One morning he fell

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in the bathroom, and I when I tried to help him up, he was in terrible pain. The paramedics from the ambulance had to carefully place him on a stretcher, but he had broken several vertebrae in his back.

At 97, I didn’t think he could survive an operation. I talked to his daughter, who is a nurse. She agreed with me, but added he couldn’t live with the pain, either.

Forrest did undergo surgery, and when he came back home as an invalid, I tried to care for him. Jeff came over every morning and night and helped me care for him. After about two weeks, we knew something had to be done.

The next step was an assisted living facility. Our home nurse agreed to look after him there. I went daily, and did all his laundry and sometimes walked with him. Just like when he first came to Texas, 126

I helped him recover as much as he was able. Gradually, Forrest regained some strength and could use a walker.

He lived for seven months at the facility and passed away on November 28, 2015.

Forrest had changed my life forever. He gave me more love than I had ever had before. He loved me just as I am and never tried to change me.

At his memorial service, many had good words for Forrest, and Jeff summed it all up beautifully in the following comments:

“ So... I remember meeting Forest for the first time. This little man with his big fancy bus and big ideas came down to Texas. We went to dinner with him and Helga, and I noticed they were holding hands under the table. “Hmmmm,” I thought to myself, “something is definitely up”. And was it ever!

I remember Tonja’s frantic call. “You’ve got to get home, my mom’s lost her mind!”

After a whirlwind romance of only two weeks, he had swept her off her feet. We were convinced she was falling for some smooth

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talking shyster. I dutifully went over to her house to talk some sense into her, and she just sat there grinning and glowing. She reassured us that she had known him for 40 years and that she knew what she was doing.

We still had our serious doubts. I did some background checks on him to expose this huckster once and for all. I called around, and everyone spoke glowingly about this guy. I’m thinking, maybe they’re in cahoots with him. Surely I can find some dirt on this guy. So I called the one person I know I could count on to tell me the truth - Helga’s former husband, Max.

I knew Max would tell me everything, and he certainly did.

But it was not what I expected.

He said, ‘Jeff, I don’t like the fact that he is seeing Helga, but honestly, I can’t say a single bad thing about Forrest. And you won’t find anyone who will. He’s a prince of a guy. A really good man. He will treat her right.’ Max’s words couldn’t have been more true.

Helga and Forrest were married soon after, and for eleven years, this man of small physical stature quickly became a huge presence in our lives.

I am privileged to have known this quiet, pensive man with his dry wit and ever present smile. Over the years, I got to know him and learned how he was so successful. He had that rare ability to look at a complicated set of circumstances, cut through the clutter, and quickly focus on just the important parts. He could really cut to the chase and focus directly on an issue, all with a smile. He focused on Helga, and she on him, filling each other’s lives with fun and adventure.

Just a few week ago, he was sitting on the patio in the sun with us, still smiling, despite all his serious health issues. His time was about up, and I think he knew it. I will always recall that smile and that day. Every time I asked him how he was doing, he would say, ‘Great! I am a lucky man and have never had a bad day all my life.’

I believed him.”

That was Forrest. He was my soul mate. His time with me was more than any woman could ever hope for. My memories of those eleven years are with me every day. I will never need anyone else. He filled my life and made me whole and complete.

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Seems like yesterday. Forrest is still fresh in my heart, and I live with the sweet memories we created together for eleven years.

My family and friends are many, and I find life is gloriously full with the people I love around me.

On my 80th birthday, my good neighbor and friend, Steve, made an appearance as “Elvis” to help me celebrate!

And there’s so much to do... I appeared on the Dallas News after warning the city about a dangerous traffic situation near me. Why, a semi truck missed my T-Bird by less than a foot at that corner!

Nestled in my comfy bed, I dream. I’m walking the dirt lane to Fulda. My robinia tree is standing, sturdy and beautifully in bloom.

I stand looking up at its branches, thinking I am its twin, rooted in fertile German soil, branching in ever new directions, and bursting with blooms year after year after year...

The old homestead is gone, but the fields are freshly plowed, earthy and fertile. The city of Fulda seems much closer than when I was a child... the steeple of my church and school is clearly visible.

The streets of Fulda are busy and prosperous. I reach my hand up for Alfons, who is not there. But my perception of him is almost as strong as if he was beside me, hurrying me along to school. And Mutti... my Mutti... she smiles and orders me to bring back the yeast from the Ranch. Paula might be waiting for me...

Walking further along the road, a hand takes mine. It is Tonja.

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We walk together and swing our arms and pick the wildflowers along the path.

A hand grips mine, and it is not Tonja now, but Forrest. Holding hands. Exploring a road he has never walked before. We hold hands all the way to the brick streets of the city. He softly sings to me again.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you in this heart of mine, you live all the time, sweet Helga”

Interesting how all the times of my life blend together to make me who I am. I would not change a thing, because those events and those people have helped shape me into the person I am today. I know who I am, I love life, and I love those who accompany me.

It couldn’t be any better.

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MYMTREE y Life

“My tree” as it is today, still protected and nourished by the City Gardener. I was delighted to visit it with my family a few years ago, and share its legacy of my own roots in Germany.

“My life” mirrors the stability of this tree. It has stood over the years, (more years than mine) through springs to harvests; witnessing air raids and hearing church bells; also welcoming a new generation of townsfolk and tourists.

It couldn’t be any better.

Helga

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