write my life story

Always followed the same pattern for Christmas Eve: my dad picked up my one grandma for tea, my mom would make dinner (usually a pot roast with dumplings (for those of you would don’t really know what I mean: there are two types—the potato type ant the bread type. I liked the bread kind the best, and basically what it is is stuffing, shaped in a ball. It comes in a skin-type wrapper, and you have to throw it in a pot of boiling water, and then after a while they’re done, and when you remove the wrapping they will stay in shape. Looks kind of prettier like that than just your average dollop of stuffing, but tastes the same for the most part). My grandma, who was my dad’s mom, lived in town, about 1/2 hour away from us in the car, and even though that’s not that far away we didn’t really see her that much.

She didn't drive by herself, so it was basically up to my parents to either fetch her to drive over to her place with us kids.  My grandma raised me, and going to her house was always a little bit like "going-home"-home.  I can remember the way her place looked and smelled to this day!  She was a little bit excentric, too, though.  After my grandpa died in WWII she never remarried and remained a bachelorette for the rest of her life, telling stories from the good old days and how to lead a virtuous life as a girl.

So, she would arrive for tea on Christmas Eve, and we would have coffee and tea, traditional German stollen, and assorted gingerbread and cookies, either home made or purchased in the store. My mom always told my sister and I to leave room for dinner, but I really loved the chocolate covered soft gingerbread, and I could I an entire box if they’d let me! So, around 4 or 5 pm, when it got dark outside, my mom would get the bible and read the narrative of the Nativity of Jesus Christ, we’d sing “Silent Night”, and then it would be time to go into the living room and open presents by the tree. This would be the first time we’d see the tree, too, since in Germany you usually don’t put it in the house any earlier than the week of Christmas, and it’s off limits for the kids. The story goes that angels decorate it the night before Christmas. So, the living room, which was also the TV room, was made a no-go zone for hours on Christmas Eve. So you had suspense building up, and boredom of course cause you couldn’t get to the TV!

My grandma always gave the weirdest gifts, but usually things that made memories, too. She would get stuff that you get in those novelty catalog’s you get in the mail, that when you look at them always gives you a good laugh and you think it would make such a nice gift for such-and-such, but my grandma would actually buy it, and my mom would usually frown on it. But my sister and I were little and we didn’t care.

Around 9 or 10 or so, after dinner, my mom would take my grandma back home. She refused to spend the night. She owned and apartment building which she was the landlady to, and she must have thought they’d tear up the place in her absence, which of course never did happen, but there must have been the chance….

Then, when my dad came back, we’d go over to my other grandma’s house, who lived in town, for her Christmas party, with more gifts, more food, music, drinks, and the entire family, which was quite large on my mom’s side. We never got out of there and back home til midnight or so, but another of those things you did on Christmas.

Last time I had a Christmas remotely like this was ca. 6 years ago, when I was home on break from college and spent the holidays over there. Now I’m married, live on a continent far-far-away, and would give everything to turn back the time and make it happen again. My paternal grandma has since passed on, my other grandparents are very elderly and sick - still living by themselves and are in good spirits - my parents are divorced, and my pocket book is perpetually empty. It’s always hard to be far away from home, especially this time of year. You never quite know when or if you’re going back, and then there seems to always be a thing preventing you. Should put this on my list of things to do!

Happy New Year and all the best in 2009 to all of you who read this!

Middle school was good. Those were really the happiest years I had in school until college. I got really good grades, and I made tons of friends. It kind of crumbled apart a little bit at the end though when I was stuck in a friendship with 2 gals who rather just wanted to be friends with each other and not with me. I ended up placing into a really good high school, and so did those 2.

High school started out not that bad. I still was friends with those 2 girls, but everybody else was new faces. I made friends with another girl who lived close-by, but she was all into guys, going out, and smoking and drinking. I still hung out with her in school.

Then I had my first crush. There was this guy named Fred, and about 10 other girls had a crush on him, too. I talked with him on the phone a lot, and he would call me, but nothing ever happened. He ended up being with the prettiest girl around. I ended up completely losing touch with him and never talked to him anymore. I would like to tell him some time how my heart broke over him.

In my last year of junior high I felt pretty good again. I was friends with many gals from the “in-crowd”, and my grades were good. However this episode over Fred never let go of me, and I started believing this happened because there was something wrong with me, and because I was too fat.

In the 11th grade students could sign up for a study abroad trip which would be for three weeks. Mind you, I lived in Germany back then, and this was going to be a three-week trip to the US. Of course I wanted to go, and I was so happy when i found out that I was one of the few that were allowed to go. And luckily, my parents were able to fund me on this.

Now, as I arrived with my host family in the US it didn’t take me a long time to figure out this beautiful thing about life in the US that ended up bringing me back some 4 years later: you are ok the way you are. Coming back to Germany became like a culture clash, and I didn’t feel ok any more, I still felt I was too fat, I started a drastic diet and lost a lot of weight. Now, did this bring happiness and fix whatever I thought was wrong with me? Of course it didn’t. I ended up anorexic.

other than some really off things. One time I returned a quiz that we got back, and told the teacher straight in his face that he missed to mark one of my mistakes. He seemed pretty frazzled. That was Mr. Steinberg, and I had him in first and second grade. In third and fourth grade I had Mrs. Rust. I never really could tell how I stood with her, and according to my mom I had a lot of school related anxiety in the mornings, and I was sick to my stomach. She must have like my work, though, because whenever we had to write an essay, she always picked the one of all the kids’ essays that she liked the best and she would read it out lout for the entire class. Mine did get picked every so often. One thing that I hated that she did was how she did birthdays. If it was your birthday, you’d walk up in front of the class, and sit in a chair. The whole group would sing Happy Birthday for you, and then they’d pick you up in the chair and raise you up high. I was kind of self conscious cause I was a bit chubby as a little girl, and I was scared for the day that it was my birthday, and they wouldn’t be able to pick me up. And to tell the truth, I don’t have any memory anymore about how that went. My birthday is in June, so it might have been during the summer, but maybe at the end of the term, too, because I do remember bringing in snacks for my birthday.

I hardly saw my grandma any more, except during the summer. I also started kindergarten very soon. I made friends with two boys who actually lived in my neighborhood. One was named Marcus, he was my best friend, and one was named Hendrik. He lived right next door from us. He had a sister named Frederike, a cat named Else, and his dad was a cardiologist. One time, when I was sick, my mom called Hendrik’s dad over to check on me. I suppose that’s how I found out he was a doctor. I also heard that one time he tried to fix their cat themselves, but had to sew it back up cause he couldn’t find the ovaries. But Marcus was my best friend, my BFF—I was convinced I was going to marry him. We played at each other’s houses all the time, our parents were friends, and we went to the same kindergarten and were in the same classroom there. We walked to and from kindergarten together every day. However, he was a year behind me. When I went into first grade, Marcus didn’t. I never saw him again. They moved shortly after that, and I have no idea whatever happened to him.

more animals

for the longest time I remember being little. And I have also always loved animals, and I adored the neighbor’s Cocker Spaniel. Her name was Bonnie. I could see her looking out my grandma’s window. One thing I remember about being little: there never were any worries, and I felt always safe. There weren’t any kids around though to pal around with, and I didn’t go to kindergarten until I was 4, but growing up and my pre-K years were awesome. Then we moved. Moved away from my grandma’s house were we had an apartment, and moved to the country as opposed to the city. And my mom had a new baby.

Growing Up

One of the best things I remember about my childhood is spending time at my grandma’s apartment. She was a land-lady and rented out apartments in a huge house that her family rebuilt after WWII. Summers there were the best summers ever. She had this huge garden, and in it she had apple trees, red & black currant bushes, gooseberry bushes, and a pear tree. The trees were quite high, and they gave the most magnificent shade. I can also vividly remember the smell of her kitchen cabinets—a delicate aroma of black tea and vanilla. There were a couple of things that she was absolutely the best at making. This included her marble pound-cake, her potato pancakes, apple sauce, chocolate & vanilla puddings, and her jello. Otherwise her cooking skills weren’t that great, but anything she made was always amazing to me! While she was still in good health we took strolls outside, and she told me stories of what the different neighborhoods were like in the 30s and 40s, before the war. It was quite beautiful. I also like to say that much of my intellectual acuity is thanks to hear. She encouraged me to get good grades in school, she allowed me to read from very old books that she had, that had belonged to my aunt when she was a little girl (and I can still remember the smell of the old, yellowed paper of those books), and she always advised me to pick “smart” friends, too. She taught me about etiquette, about good behavior, and about society. Having been from a pre-WWII upper class family herself, she shared with me the same things that were expected from her, and which she expected from her daughter. At age 6 I had the refined manners of a socialite.

I’ve only been alive for about 30 years but have lived on 3 continents, in 4 different countries, had a ton of emotionally charged experiences—and I am finally at the point where I’m not scared of the change any more. I am not afraid of tomorrow.

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