A Catholic Marriage?

This post I published already in March 2012 I copied it here because I think it shows a bit more what my parents were like.

Max Tomscik had changed his name to Max Burghoff, I think you call it by deeds. Herr Burghoff had been Mum’s friend for several years when the following conversation between Dad and myself took place. For some reason Dad insisted on using the original name. We children always called him “Herr Burghoff”. We thought it was right and proper to do this. We had absolutely no problem with it.

‘The boys told me that Tomscik never shared his supper with you children,’ said Dad. It was June 1953. I was on a one week leave from FLEUROP and had used this, my very first vacation, to visit Dad in Düsseldorf.
‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ was my response. ‘We never wanted Herr Burghoff to act as our Dad. I thought it was perfectly all right that he bought “Abendbrot” only for himself and Mum. At the time he was still studying and didn’t have much money. Maybe it would have been different had he already been employed in the Public Service.’
‘And what is this, that he wants to marry Mum?’ asked Dad. – ‘Well, it’s true, he wanted to marry her. You know, that as a Catholic he was not allowed to marry a divorced woman. That’s why they asked the Pope for special permission. It took a while, but they did get it in the end.’
‘Yea, by declaring the marriage invalid and my children bastards,’ screamed Dad.
‘I know, they established that she married under pressure of her mother and sister Ilse. They claim, she didn’t really know what she was getting into when she married you.’
Dad looked extremely upset. ‘That’s absolute nonsense!’ he shouted.
I felt very sorry for Dad. ‘Anyway, Dad, it seems Mum’s not going to marry him after all. Tante Ilse says so.’
‘And why would that be? What could possibly be a reason for not marrying him now?’
‘The reason? According to Tante Ilse there are several reasons. You know Herr Burghoff is now employed here in a town in the Rheinland. That is Mum would have to move away from Berlin, if she wanted to live with him. And you know what Mum’s like: She just does not want to leave Berlin!’ Dad nodded. He knew all about this: Mum had always refused to leave Berlin to live with him.
‘ And Tante Ilse told me something else. She said when Mum went to his new place for a visit, she noticed him praying a lot. At least twice a day he would fall on his knees praying in front of a statue. It was kind of acceptable for Mum to go with him to Sunday Mass in Berlin. But apparently she can’t stand all this praying at home. Tante Ilse thinks it was just too much for her to see him do this. Indeed, it must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back!’

Tags: Dad, divorce, family, Mum

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Childhood Memories

6 Responses to “Childhood Memories”

ElizOF
March 17, 2012 at 7:46 pm Edit #
I had a good laugh about: But apparently she can’t stand all this praying at home. Tante Ilse thinks it was just too much for her to see him do this…. Your mom must have been quite fascinating!

auntyuta
March 18, 2012 at 7:15 am Edit #
http://berlioz1935.wordpress.com/2011/09/19/the-woman-who-jumped-up-for-jesse-owens/

We think that Charlotte, my mother, was ‘the woman who jumped up for Jesse Owens’.

She was quite fascinating indeed. Unfortunately my father wasn’t the right man for either.

likeitiz
March 18, 2012 at 2:15 am Edit #
It’s quite apparent they had very different values and beliefs. It would have been a disastrous marriage if it did go through. At least it was avoided in time.

auntyuta
March 18, 2012 at 7:30 am Edit #
Mary-Ann, please see what I replied to the comment of Eliz.

You may be interested to read the story about ‘the woman who jumped up for Jesse Owens’. Peter, my husband, wrote this story. I think it’s very believable and shows what Charlotte was like. After she decided not to marry her ‘Bambi’ (Tomscik alias Burghoff), she established herself in a council job and through very hard work till she turned 65 made the best out of her life and her retirement.

I agree with you that people with very different values and beliefs should not marry.

Munira
March 20, 2012 at 7:47 am Edit #
Thank God your mum caught him praying at home in time!

auntyuta
March 20, 2012 at 9:41 am Edit #
Your comment, Munira, makes me think. Maybe there was some truth in their claim that they had only a ‘Tischgemeinschaft’, which means they had meals together but weren’t sleeping together!

THE MARRIAGE OF MY PARENTS

I copied the following from a post I published on 10th September 2011!

‘Your father has always been a selfish person. He doesn’t send any money for you but I bet he sits down for breakfast with a soft boiled egg in front of him. He knows how to look after himself and doesn’t care whether his children have anything to eat.’

The voice of my mother still rings in my ears. When years later I talked to my father about his so called selfishness, he justified himself with a lot of words and by producing the Post Office receipts which proved that he had constantly sent money for us children. True, he never could send much, however Mum’s claim that he didn’t send any money at all was totally wrong, according to Dad. He made sure that I looked at all the relevant slips. It seemed very important to him that I should believe him.

I felt sorry for Dad and I felt sorry for Mum. I used to feel that I could not take sides for either of them: I was totally torn between them. My loyalty belonged to both in equal proportions, that means, I could never decide on who’s side I should be. Mum of course accused me constantly of siding with my father and rejecting her. She probably did not feel supported by me. She just could not stand it when I tried to defend Dad.

Dad was the opposite. No matter how much he complained about Mum and let it be known how frustated he was about Mum’s behaviour, he was never angry with me when I tried to defend Mum. He always listened patiently to what I had to say. On the contrary, he liked it when I pointed out how much Mum meant to me and the boys.

‘You are right, Uta,’ he would say, ‘it is very important for you and the boys that you have a good relationship with your Mum. After all she is your Mum. I certainly would not like you rejecting her. In her own way she loves all three of you. You should never forget this.’ Then he would continue to complain about it that Mum was not willing to leave Berlin and live together with him and us children as one family. He also had some gripes about Aunty Ilse. According to him it was she who had wrecked their marriage.

I loved Aunty Ilse. For me it was very hard to listen to Dad’s accusations about her. Dad claimed in a very angry voice that Ilse had lived a ‘Lotter-Leben’ (bad life) when she was younger. He said that she had now a very good marriage. He was of the opinion that marrying HL was the best thing that could have happened to her. Dad regarded HL as being of very good character. I could only agree. In my experience, this Uncle spoke of Dad always in a respectful way too, that is, I never heard him say anything bad about him. Come to think of it, neither did Aunty Ilse. The way I saw it, only Mum would talk about Dad in a very nasty kind of way. It shows that to her mind he must have been a great disappointment to her. Even as a child I tried to see both sides. This was mind boggling for me. A lot of the issues were about what normally only grown-ups would be concerned about. On the other hand – even though I had no way of being able to tell what for instance the sexual difficulties may have been – I none the less felt those vibes which told me, my parents had those very strong love/hate feelings towards each other. I also sensed Mum’s absolute disgust about the way Dad’s life had turned out to be. Yes, I can imagine what immense disappointment this was for her!

Some time after Dad had managed to set himself up in a secure position again he talked to me about how it would be best for all of us if he remarried Mum. I told him that I could not imagine this happening. And sure enough, when he asked Mum to live with him again, she refused.

In 1959 Peter and I migrated to Australia with our two baby-girls. The following year Dad married G. Peter and I were under the impression that the new wife was right for Dad in every way, I am sure, Dad had a very good marriage with G. They had only a short time together: At age sixty-two Dad died of prostate cancer. After having stayed in hospital for a while Dad pleaded with G to take him home. She did this and nursed him for the last six months of his life. It so happened, that G received Dad’s pension after he died. This upset my Mum and my brothers immensely! They thought, G had no right to receive all the benefits. They told me that the first wife should get more consideration for having had a much longer marriage as well as children. I felt awful when my family talked badly about G. I know that she had always been very welcoming, kind and supportive towards my brothers.

G is ninety-two now. Over the distance I still have some occasional contact with her. I am never going to forget, how, during the last years of his life, she gave Dad so much of herself. When I received her letter six months before he died, telling me about the seriousness of Dad’s illness, I cried and cried.

Tags: cancer, childhood memories, children of a broken marriage, difficulties in marriage, parents, wife’s pension

15 Responses to “Childhood Memories”

Munira
September 17, 2011 at 6:09 pm Edit #
Whoa…it must have been difficult to write down these memories Aunty Uta. I can imagine how torn you must have felt between your mother and father. I don’t think parents register the extent of the effect on their children of the bitternesses and resentments that they harbour against each other, especially a sensitive child, like I’m pretty sure you must have been.
I can relate to this post, though my parents didn’t break their marriage….mainly due to the fact that they had four daughters to raise. My mother blamed my father for the choices he made in his business, and they have struggled through hard times together, though I can imagine he must have been difficult to live with. I often think they were never really meant for each other…
When I watch them together, even now, when they are both in their 70′s, they seem to now care for each other more than they used too, I do think they would have been happier if there had been no financial stresses, but their sometimes completely unreasonable arguments make me realise how very different they are in the way they think.
Your story is so heart-breaking, but I’m glad you wrote it, and that I came over to your blog and read it.

auntyuta
September 18, 2011 at 7:50 am Edit #
Thank you so much for your response, dear Munira. Your response reminds me of my own marriage, which lasted already for 55 years, even though we seem to misunderstand each other quite often and then argue a lot about nothing. However one subject we never argue about is money since we both have the same attitude about money and how to spend it.I mean we really agree on a lot of things. It is more the little day to day things how everything should be done where our ideas often clash! But I think as I get so much older now, I’ve probably become a bit more tolerant. When he shouts at me because he’s upset about something I try not to be too sensitive about it. I tell myself he doesn’t really want to be mean to me. He’s just letting off steam. It never takes him very long to be his old loving self again!

berlioz1935
September 18, 2011 at 9:33 am Edit #
Aunty Uta, that was a cracker of an account of the relationship of your parents. One can even feel the vitriol that was pouring out of them. For a child to stand between the clashing forces of the two parents is pure torture. It is like standing on a battlefield with bullets flying around ones head.

I always wished I had known you earlier and could have taken you by your hand and lead you to a safer place. In fact we did this by going to Australia, far away from the real battlefields of Europe and the battlefields of our families. Sometimes a clean break is necessary. Love you so much.

auntyuta
September 18, 2011 at 2:17 pm Edit #
Thank you very much for your support, dear Berlioz. Love you too.

the island traveler
September 18, 2011 at 5:22 pm Edit #
Thanks for sharing. I know its not easy talk about stuff like this. I’m glad your mum devoted herself to your dad on his last days…I wish you the best. A touching post.

auntyuta
September 20, 2011 at 2:12 pm Edit #
I reckon Munira guessed it right, I must have been a sensitive child. It is interesting to observe how marriage break-ups effect children in different ways. I always say I had three mothers: My birth-mother, my aunt, who was my mother’s sister and throughout her life treated me very much as though I was her own daughter (maybe because she never had a child of her own), and the third mother was my father’s second wife, whom I knew only through correspondence and photos. Later on, many years after my father’s death, I did get to know her personally on a few visits to Germany. It was so good to be able to talk to her about my father!
Some children grow up not knowing anything about their father. I for one feel blessed that I knew my parents, who both loved me, each in their own way. And I was also very much loved by many people in the large extended family. It is of course very sad, that my parents could not live a happy life together. Yes, it saddened me, but I think it also matured me in my early teenage years. I always had a feeling wanting to understand the different characters. Maybe this brought on a longing in me to write about my feelings and the way I saw different people.

MOL
September 25, 2011 at 6:24 pm Edit #
Sometimes, two people can love each other but they are so different, or they have evolved into such different people from their original selves, that they are no longer compatible. It appears that your parents’ parting was not amicable. You mother probably equates the amount of money your father sends to support you to how much he cares for all your welfare. Your father believes that what he sent was all he could scrape up. It sounds like your mother was bitter over the separation but your father was able to move forward with his life.

Events like these can be very de-stabilizing for children, who are so vulnerable. It’s always a blessing that children have support systems around them to keep them grounded and reassure them that they are loved, no matter what, and that they are in no way responsible for what has happened.

You seem to have come out if it quite well. There must be a lot of strength inside you and good sense to see beyond your mother’s bitterness or the failure of their marriage as not your doing nor your responsibility to fix.

I can only hope your children have inherited some of your strength.

auntyuta
September 25, 2011 at 8:57 pm Edit #
The way I see it, it was really my father who was bitter about the separation. My mother did not want to move to where my father was. My father was quite bitter about this. He was fighting sickness and not being able to get a proper job in the postwar years.

I reckon my teenage years weren’t as good as they could have been, but I’m not bitter about this Everything turned out all right for me in the end. I was the first born one and used to be a good student. Everyone always thought I’d make it to university. However this did not eventuate. To be honest, I really was not unhappy about this, not at all. I was overjoyed when among dozens of applicants I landed a job in an office at the age of 18. I did office work for five years. In the meantime I had married an started a family. When I was approaching 25 we moved to Australia under a migration program. We had two children under two and soon followed a third one! We did not have much money, but we were doing all right. I just turned 77 and celebrate this year 55 years of marriage!

Thank you very much for your very thoughtful comments. I appreciate your visit. It means a lot to me. Thank you!

auntyuta
September 25, 2011 at 9:34 pm Edit #
Dear Mol, I was just thinking one of my next blogs should be about our first born daughter who became a quadriplegic because of polio, when she was only four years old. She’s 52 now and going strong. Her strength is really to be admired.
And our last born one I had at the age of 44, so she’s soon going to be 33 and doing very well. We are proud of all our children. But all their lifes are very different from ours. We love them all and I am sure they all love us each in their own way.

MOL
September 26, 2011 at 8:24 am Edit #
That would be wonderful. You can immortalize their lives and your thoughts on them through the years in your blog. It would be a wonderful gift. I would love to “meet them and get acquainted” through your blog.

auntyuta
September 26, 2011 at 9:50 am Edit #
Thank you for your reply, dear Mol. It makes me want to keep on blogging.I just have to work out, what can be made public and what should remain private. It starts with their names. Should I use their proper names?

I also have a problem with media connections. My husband is used to handling mobiles (cell phones), facebook friends etc. I refuse to acquire a mobile phone for myself because I have a problem with eyesight and coordination. Besides I feel I just don’t want to keep in touch per mobile. Often it seems to be used a bit too much. However I must admit a few times strangers helped me out with their mobile when I needed to make a call!

I rely on my husband to keep me up to date about information about our children and grandchilden, which he gets from facebook.

Myself, I’m used to keep in touch with people via Email. Blogging is fairly new to me and often I still can’t find my way around all the different venues.

I would like to have M-A O-L as a friend but I’m confused about how to do it. Can’t I just email her without anybody else participating? It was very kind of you to help her out with your mobile. I hope I’m not imposing on you too much.

aRVee
October 5, 2011 at 8:26 pm Edit #
Hi auntyuta just dropping by for a quick thank you for visiting my sites. I appreciate it. I will get back to read this story later. Have a great day!

auntyuta
October 6, 2011 at 7:10 pm Edit #
Hi aRVee! Thanks for stopping by. Take care and have a great day too!

Bindu John
January 19, 2012 at 2:28 am Edit #
I couldn’t stop reading till I reached the last word. You have presented your experiences in a very composed way.
What I realize is husband-wife relationships are ubiquitous and do not change much from generation to generation. And I too could relate to your experiences. Parents often forget children are watching them and are affected by what is going on in between them. Another point is that children are just, and not all biased – they should not be forced to take sides, because both the parents are equally important for them.
Captivating post, Aunty Uta! Thanks for sharing.

auntyuta
January 19, 2012 at 7:32 am Edit #
Hi Bindu, I thank you for your comments. You’re right, similar problems in husband-wife relationships you can probably find throughout the ages. It is interesting to hear that you could relate to it.

Uta’s Early Childhood

This is a picture from my “Kinderzimmer” in Berlin in 1936. I am going to include this with other pictures in my EARLY CHILDHOOD page which is right next to my ABOUT page.

Uta’s early Childhood

I published this post about the book ‘Unser Kind – Our Child’ about one year ago. I wanted to reblog it today but came up with some major difficulties.

UNSER KIND’ – OUR CHILD , this is the title of a book Mum used for recording notes about my development. Here are some of the notes:

“Uta was born on Friday, 21st September 1934, at 19 hrs and 55 min. in Berlin-Schöneberg. Her birth weight was 3200 g, she was 51 cm in length.

Friday, 5th October 1934, Uta 14 days old. This is the day when she was outside for the first time. She had her first solid food on the 23rd December. She enjoyed eating biscuit with orange juice. On 2nd April 1935 she drank out of a small cup all by herself.

On 27th February 1935, Tante Ilse’s birthday, she wore a dress for the first time. She congratulated Aunty with some violets in her hand. When Uta was four months old she raised herself up into a sitting position for the first time. She could already stand quite well when she was six months. She was ten months and two days old when she took the first two steps all by herself. She could climb one step by herself at twelve months without holding onto anything.

Her first tooth appeared when she wasn’t quite seven months old yet. At twelve months she had six teeth at the top and two at the bottom. These teeth appeared one after another without any problems. On the 20th of March Uta wore ‘Schuhchen’ (little shoes) for the first time.

On the 24th of March 1935, a Sunday, she was baptised in the ‘Kirche zum Heilbronn’ by Pfarrer Wiligmann. Uta’s first words were “wau, wau”. Later she said “Mama” and then “Papa” and “Buh”. With “Buh” she meant ball.

She had three small pox vaccinations, because the first two weren’t successful. (Unsuccessful on 12.5.36 and 24.10.36. Successful vaccination on 13.4.37.)”

Here now is what Mum wrote on the 26th of September 1935: “Uta likes children a real lot. She wants to play with every one. She loves to play in the sand. – When I take her out she always likes to stand up in her pram and she smiles at every one. People always take notice of her. When Uta was ten months old I took her on a bike-tour. She was placed in a basket-seat which was fastened to my handle-bar. We went along the Promenade of Münster. It started raining a bit. Because of this she ended up with a bit of a cold.

She was eleven months when she was for the first time in an outside water, the Aasee of Münster. The temperature was 24 degrees (Celsius). Uta went across the German border into Poland when she was nine months. This was her first major trip. Destination Lodz.

For Uta’s first birthday we were still in Münster. Sissi and Teo were our guests. Uta loved all the presents. All day long she played with her toys.”

And there’s a list of all the presents I received, from Aunty in Berlin, from Grandma in Leipzig and also from the grandparents in Lodz. I think the photo further below was taken around my first birthday. It shows I was still quite bald!

Dapto Heated Pool

pictures from the pool

Peter and I went to the pool this morning. There was sunshine, hardly any breeze, and the water was beautiful!

At the entrance to the pool Peter noticed this sign that children of a certain age had to be accompanied by a responsible adult. This made Peter think back to his childhood days when he would as a six year old wander off unaccompanied to a pool some distance away from home. Well, this would have been more than seventy years ago. How times have changed!

Oral History

http://www.nla.gov.au/what-we-collect/oral-history-and-folklore

The past week Peter and I have been busy with the telling of our lives’ story. We had a very lovely visitor recording everything for the Oral History section of the library at Canberra. It takes a few weeks before these recordings are accessible. I understand they are going to be preserved for future generations. This whole project is of course extremely exciting for us.

Frances, who’s interviewing us, tells us, we as migrants from Germany, having been through WW II and post war years as children in Germany have experiences to recall which people would be interested to hear about. Also of interest are our experiences in Australia as migrants. In this regard it is of special interest to find out how our lives were shaped by having had a daughter who had been severely disabled by polio.

Neither Peter or I are experienced speakers. Having our voices recorded is something completely new to us. However Frances is very good at encouraging us. She gently guides us into the relevant sections of our lives by asking some questions. Peter and I are always being interviewed separately. Usually we have one hour each in the morning, then a lunch-break, and maybe another hour each in the afternoon.

I found out having to talk for one hour at a time about my life can be rather tiring and sometimes a bit stressful too. But I love doing it especially with such a good interviewer as Frances. By the middle of next week she’s going to be back for the conclusion of the interviews.

frances

Looking up Aunty Uta’s Childhood Memories

3 Responses to “Aunty Uta’s Memories 1943/44”

auntyutaJuly 30, 2011 at 1:54 am Edit #

With hubby’s help I managed last night to add some of the continuation of my memories 1943/1944. Over the past five years or so I saved quite a few pages of memory writing in Open Office. So far my writing is not very well organised and needs more editing. When I started with memory writing I did it hoping that maybe some of my grand-children and great-grand-children might be interested in reading it later on.

Hubby and I joined a writers’ group for a number of years. When this stopped, I stopped writing since nobody seemed to be interested to read any new writing of mine on a regular basis. In the writers’ class we were given lots of encouragement by a qualified tutor! Recently I always found excuses why it wasn’t important to keep writing. Somehow there were constantly other things that took priority.

I’m glad now that my niece encouraged me to try blogging.

REPLY
muniraAugust 2, 2011 at 1:01 am Edit #

What an incredible story Aunty Uta. I loved reading every word. Somehow, listening to or reading someone’s stories of the past is so much better and that much more evocative compared to a history book. I felt transported to a different world as I read this post.
I’m glad you started blogging. It’s very commendable and your memories are amazingly vivid.

REPLY
auntyutaAugust 3, 2011 at 9:55 am Edit #

Thank you very much. Your reply made my day. I started reading some of your blogs and enjoyed them very much. Blogging for sure opens different worlds for us, doesn’t it? I try to read as much as possible. I loved it that you included old family pictures. I hope that some day in the not so distant future I may manage to add some of my old family pictures. I’m going on 77 and there’s still so much to learn. Yet I have to try to take it easy. I have to accept that certain things take longer as you get older. When I change trains at Central Station in Sydney for instance it takes me much longer to proceed along the stairways than most other people. I JUST HAVE TO TAKE IT A BIT SLOWER THAN ALL THE YOUNGER PEOPLE: And that’s it. As long as I can manage a little bit, it’s better than nothing.I enjoy my life.I can honestly say I am grateful for every day that’s still given to me

Today is the 22nd of January 2013

I thought the other day I should go back to writing more about my childhood memories. I do not like so much to write about the present when I have to be constantly aware that I shouldn’t say things about people who are still alive because they mightn’t like what I tell about them. Another way to avoid offending people would be to fictionalize all my writing. I sometimes do change a few names. However I am usually reluctant to do this. I get all confused when I don’t know whether to just change names or fictionalize my writing all together.

Since I looked up what I published here at world.press way back in July 2011, I thought it would be interesting to copy it so that my new readers could read it. I noticed Munira was one of my earliest readers. I’ve copied here her comment to my childhood memories. To me this comment is very interesting. I couldn’t copy all of what I had written in July 2011. But for bloggers who would like to read these memories, please look them up in the archives under July 2011.

Grandmother Hulda buys Eggs

Probably a Slighly Fictional Story

In my memory sticks a meeting with a woman on a small farm outside Lodz, which was called ‘Litzmannstadt’ at the time. One day Grandmother wanted to buy eggs from the farm where she had been buying eggs for years. She took me along for the ride in the Pferde-Droschke (horse drawn taxicab). I cannot remember any other time, when I was allowed to go out with her. So this was really something very special for me. I was thrilled, that Grandmother had chosen me to accompany her!

Grandmother greeted the farm-woman in a very friendly manner and proudly introduced me, saying: ‘This is my grand-daughter, She is here for a visit from Berlin.’ The woman seemed very happy to see my grandmother. With a big smile she greeted both of us. Grandmother did not enter the small farmhouse, but handed the woman her very large basket asking her to fill it up please. The woman left and soon returned with the basket full of lovely large hen-eggs, about thirty of them. Then the women talked a bit more.

The farm-woman enquired about Grandmother’s family. She seemed to know, that Grandmother had many children. ‘Did you receive the Silver Cross for having had six children?’ she wanted to know. And Grandmother replied:’I did indeed receive a Cross, but it is the G o l d e n Cross for having had e i g h t children! My first two children, who were twins, died in infancy. Over the following years I had six more children, who are all alive and well. It counts as having had eight children.’ At that the farm-woman looked admiringly at my Grandmother and uttered a few words of congratulations for having received the Golden Cross.

Come to think of it, this conversation must have happened in German, otherwise I could not have understood a word of it. To me this woman probably seemed just like any other German woman living in Poland.

The eggs were beautiful. One morning we had some of those large, fresh eggs as soft boiled eggs for breakfast. Grandfather was there and two of his sons, one of them being my father. Someone made a comment how good tasting those eggs were. This did it. Fresh good tasting eggs like this, they had to be from a farm, and probably from that farm, where Grandmother always used to buy her eggs.

My uncle put his napkin down. Then the inquisition started. ‘Mother, where did you get these eggs? Did you get them from those Jewish people on the farm, where you always used to buy your eggs?’

Grandmother answered defiantly: ‘Yes, this is where I bought them.’

Uncle looked around, first at Grandfather, then at my Father. ‘Help me out here,’ he said. ‘Am I hearing this right? Mother had no scruples whatsoever hiring a Pferde-Droschke to go out to that farm and buying produce from a Jewish woman? And the Polish coachman very likely bearing witness to all this! My goodness, Mother, don’t you realise, this could put you into jail? Your whole family could suffer because of this. Our factory might be taken away from us. Think about it, Mother! Just think about it for one moment. Do you want to jeopardise our whole future for a few eggs?’

Grandmother looked very upset. I had the feeling, she could not understand, how buying a few eggs from a farm was supposed to effect the future of the whole family in an adverse way. Then my Father started to speak up. ‘Look, Mother,’ he said, ‘You have to understand, we do not make the rules. The authorities do. Since there is this rule, that Germans are not allowed to buy anything from Jewish people, we better live up to this rule, because if we ignore it, it might cost us dearly. You do not want your own family to suffer hardship now, do you?’

Grandmother was shaking her head, being close to tears of frustration. Her eyes often looked a bit teary anyway. Then Father said: ‘All we want, is, that you promise us, that you will not under any circumstances go out to that farm again. Will you promise us that?’ Grandmother nodded. And that was that.

Grandfather, who normally was very talkative, had not said a word through all this.

GRANDMOTHER’S QUERY

Weeping softly, she says defiantly:

‘I bought the eggs from a Jewish woman.

So what? Are you going to kill me for it?

Aren’t I free to buy my eggs from whomever

I want to buy them from? What does it matter to you,

whether the eggs come from Jewish, Polish, Russian

or German hens? Tell me, what does it matter to you?’

( This is, what Grandmother actually never said, but what she may have felt like.)

More Aunties and Uncles and Cousins

This picture was taken on a holiday near Lodz
I can be seen with Ursel and Karl-Heinz, my cousins.
An older sister of Dad, Aunt Jenny and her husband, another Uncle Alred, are in the back. On the left is Charlotte, ,my Mum. It is summer 1937

Horst, Karl-Heinz, Uta (with sun-glasses)

Ursel (Ulla) looks after us.
We all love the hammock.
It’s great fun lying in it!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

This picture was taken in Lodz on the 26th of May 1937
My two year old cousin Horst seems to like me! It’s not summer yet, but it must be quite warm already.

Enjoying a bath. These small bath-tubs were quite common in those days. But they are really meant for doing the washing.

Oh, what fun it is to look out of the window.!

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My cousin Karl-Heinz when he is about two

Dad’s younger brother Ludwig (Onkel Luttek) is visiting in Berlin and takes me for a walk. I am two years old.

In 1939 we were for summer vacation in Zoppot, a Baltic Sea resort.
There were donkey rides available for children. I was overjoyed when I was allowed to have a ride. A lot of Dad’s family spent the holidays with us in a rented apartment in Zoppot. I remember the apartment was in a tower-like building. We were right at the top. Looking out of the window we could sea far out onto the sea.

In September 1938 cousin Ursula came for a visit to Berlin.
I am just four years old., Ursel just turned eleven.
Mum and Ursel with me in Berlin at a building
in a street called ‘Unter den Linden’[/caption]

This photo was taken at a family party, probably in the 1960s It shows Dad with his three sisters and two brothers.

Cousins, Aunties and Uncles

In June 1935 my parents traveled with me to Lodz, which was in Poland. My father did get a passport for this trip. This one passport was not just for himself, but also for his wife and infant daughter!

I suppose we traveled by train from Berlin to Lodz. I’m sure the journey would have taken something like twelve hours. In Lodz we stayed at the house of Aunt Elisabeth (Tante Lies) and Uncle Alfred. Tante Lies was my father’s younger sister. She was the same age as my mum. Their son, my cousin Horst, was only four months at the time and I was nine months. I had three older cousins in Lodz. They were Georg, Gerd, and Ursula (Ulla). You can see them with little Horst and my little self in one of the pictures.