manlycornhusk's blog post - Germans....huh

My NN mentor tbjones is correct. Germans are, in general, very reserved with people they don't know. But, the Rhine runs deep. I can't remember a warmer, cozier time than spent in my Oma's home. Oma is German for Grandmother. The front of her home was actually a small store filled with nooks and crannies filled with everything a young boy needs to spend a whole day exploring. Only problem was, it was verbotten, forbidden. It didn't stop me from trying. It was 6 steps from the back door to the candy containers, 8 steps to the cakes, pies and bread, 12 steps to the front door. When I think about it now...it was just a small store but it was a wonderland to a 10yo kid.

I had friends there...my terrible German, their terrible English but we communicated well enough. My Aunt, Tante Trauta made the mistake of asking me if I'd like to share some of those awesome pastries with my friends one morning. The next think you know, I was behind the counter taking the entire platter of them and heading out the front door. My mother told me that my Grandmother and Aunt stood at the front window and laughed at my overzealousness but all I remember is being the center of attention and the local child hero for about 10 happy kids. Oddly, I was never asked by my Aunt again to repeat that act...go figure.

Onkel Otto, Uncle Otto. I'm not sure that he really ever did anything. Sometimes he puttered around in the garden and sometimes he cleaned the pig's pen but mostly he just sat around and smoked his pipe. Dressed in his warm farmer's clothes, his eyes twinkling like someone had just done something funny. His cheeks and the tip of his nose that rosy red that belies a long flirtation with cool weather and a tipple or two. His voice was slow and relaxed and you just felt that everything in his world was in perfect order and he wanted for nothing. My favorite memory of him is the times it was just he and I in the livingroom. He would look at me and wink. That was my cue to reach behind the couch and grab the big bottle of orange drink. That was for me...reaching back once more produced a bottle of Schnapps for him. We would pour ourselves a health glass of our respective beverage and then toast each other with great gusto.

My Grandmother was a great, stern looking whirlwind of activity. I think it was my first love/hate relationship. She knew how to stop you in your tracks with just a terse word but her hugs were warm medicine for any real or imagined maladies a kid could come up with. Her food smelled and tasted of home. To this day, German food has the ability to wrap me safely and cure my ills.

Now, my Aunt Traute....she was a soft, round, healthy woman with a pure heart and the curly tresses of an angel. She worked her days away in the local dairy and brought home truckloads of yogurt when it was close to expiring. We took advantage of that situation with exuberance. Why truckloads...didn't I mention the pig pen? Yes, they had one pig. It was the largest and best fed pig in the world. All the kitchen scraps were mixed with yogurt and offered to this pampered porker. I think he started out as an investment in some later dinner but eventually became part of the family. He wasn't the only odd addition. In the same building as the pig pen was the rabbit cages. Fat, happy rabbits dining on all the best produce from the large garden next to it. My brother and I used to sneak into their area and enjoy feeding them carrots fresh from the ground. There rabbits would never see the dinner table either. They were paired of so that they wouldn't be lonely and when their mates died, it would be replaced by a ......Guinea Pig! I didn't mistype. They got along fabulously.

Sorry, I guess I'm feeling a bit homesick for Germany and definately a bit nostalgic. Hopefully this didn't bore you to death but I'm probably going to write some more on the subject...just can't stop myself.

So, Peace and Love und seliges Glück