Last Wednesday I booked tickets, and five hours later I was on a plane to Germany with
my mom. Very impromptu. But I just felt I had to go, and I am so glad I did.
I had a wonderful time with family and some friends, too. No children to take care of, just
us women telling stories until the wee hours of the night.
This is my grandfather Friedel. We spent five hours at his house, the house in which my mother and her sisters
grew up, and he told us stories of the old ones, old aunts who hid money under aprons, of great-great-great
grandfathers who ploughed fields with oxen - an old and a young one, of my grandma Walli giving birth in a garage
and the midwife falling asleep next to her. Of him falling off a scaffolding at work, the old kind made of wood,
and then sneaking out of the hospital through the window to have a beer. Of great great uncles who walked back
from the war (the first one, or the one before that, who knows) to keep an eye on the young soldiers billeted on
the attic in which he had hid all his money.
I could go on for hours. I love old stories belonging to old people. :)