From: fr@compu.com (Fred Rump from home)
Newsgroups: soc.roots
Subject: Re: Welcome back, Fred! (Was Re: Just Starting...)
Date: 16 Nov 92 22:23:18 GMT
Organization: CompuData Inc.

eggertj@moses.atc.ll.mit.edu (Jim Eggert x6127 g41) writes:

>Speaking of Germany, Fred didn't you just get back from a trip to
>Germany?  I'd love to hear some commentary on any genealogical work
>you did over there.  I'm hoping to go to Germany next year too.

Ok, since you and several others have asked ....

Some of you may remember the start of this escapade. But to repeat: my dad was 
adopted by his mother's sister and the whole transaction was handled very 
quietly. So quiet, as a matter of fact, that his aunt (his real mother) never 
let on to this situation and her husband never knew. My father found out about 
this when he had to produce a birth certificate upon application for his 
Master in tailoring (Schneidermeister). 

He never forgave anybody involved for not let him in on this and cared little 
to find out about his real father, but I always wondered and resolved to check 
into it one of these days. It took a while but on this trip I was able to get 
the border region in the Harz mountains where my father was really born. It 
was but a few miles from the old guard towers and I had no real way of simply 
going there while the wall was up. So much for that side of the background.

My questioning of various relatives stirred up enough interest on my wife's 
side of the family for them to organize a so-called cousins meeting in 
Germany. We were rather suddenly invited and went on the spur of the moment. I 
only had two weeks because of other commitments.

So we fly into Frankfurt which was a mistake. I thought I could simply run up 
the Autobahn in a few hours to get to the Oldenburger land. First of all, I 
was the only guy in Frankfurt who couldn't find a cart at the airport. I 
finally stationed myself at one of the busses outside until somebody with a 
cart came by which I then requisitioned. (My wife has a bad back and couldn't 
carry any of our luggage so I needed help via cart.) I then got a car from 
Interrent/Eurorent and off we were. I got onto the wrong Autobahn but figured, 
what the hell, at 160 Km/Hr it really doesn't matter if I go out of the way a 
little. Wrong!

Little did I know that the whole transportation system in Germany has gone 
bonkers. You only go fast so you can wait longer at the next Stau (stoppage). 
I started to yearn fondly for the good old NJ or PA turnpike where traffic may 
not move as fast but you get there without having to take lunch and dinner 
with you. It took us all day to make the trip north.

I stopped somewhere for a bite to eat. Ten Marks for a bowl of soup. 14 would 
have been 10 bucks. I ordered a can of coffee for the both of us. The man 
would only give me one cup. But I want another one for my wife. No can do. You 
have to buy another can or a separate cup. At 6.70DM per cup (roughly a five 
spot) I swallowed hard and learned my first lesson of the new economics in 
Germany. At the bank at the airport I received 1.41DM for one dollar. These 
Marks simply avoided my wallet as there was no use even storing them. :-)

So we arrived and the next day all 25 people showed up at my brother-in-law's 
(b-i-l) house (14 cousins and sisters of my wife). Only one b-i-l from Spain 
didn't make the trip, one cousin was divorced and one had recently lost a 
husband. Otherwise it was a complete compliment. These were mostly 40+ year 
reunions for wifee. 

All was well. But before the big lunch/coffee & cake/dinner day we went to get 
some flowers and bought this beautiful table spread. It was not appreciated as 
such things are designated only for the cemetery. How are we supposed to know, 
right? That $25 could sit outside in hiding. But at least we had something to 
take to the cemetery the next day. There we found many of the old grave sites 
returned to grass. Turns out that a grave is only good for 30 years and then 
you must buy the thing all over again. Many people don't as ground too, is 
very expensive.

You must now that we are in the Oldenburger Muensterland where Platt (low 
German) is still very much in vogue. So are many old customs. At our little 
party much Jaegermeister, Wein, Bier and Korn (Klaren) was consumed. All 
together and in no particular order.  I expected a big and terrible headache
along with other difficulties the next day. It didn't happen and B-I-l says 
that is because it's all good stuff made out of natural things, not like your 
beer with all the chemicals. There may be something to that.

Anyway, at dinner time all rose as one and started singing a prayer in Platt. 
I'm standing on a chair taking a video of this extraordinary and spontaneous
event. I knew these kinds of things would happen with grandparents or even 
parents around, but here we were the old folks and the habit continues. It was 
somehow nice and my eyes became moist with emotion. The song sounded somewhat 
like 'Grosser Gott wir loben Dich' but it was still different. My father would 
have loved to have been there. These were his people too because this is where 
he grew up.

And then there were the Torten. God, what cake they can bake over there! 

Before dinner (actually it was sort of late lunch) because the main meal is 
really held at noon) I had marched everyone out for pictures. One of each 
couple and then the whole group togther. I'm just now having copies made for 
all. 

Then, when everybody was done and the tables cleared, they started singing - 
in Platt, of course. And then they told jokes in Platt and everybody laughed 
their heads off except my wife and I. It might as well have in Dutch for all 
we could understand. Still, we laughed politely as jokes in translation are 
better not asked for. 

It was great day. I had everyone write down about their children and 
grandchildren.  Got addresses and all.  Hopefully, someday those children will
come to meet each other too.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, since my father was adopted into this village of Essen/Oldenburg there 
were other relatives from his maternal side to visit. The Haemmerer family is 
spread out all over Germany by now but again, one of them is helping me with 
that branch. Genealogy is infectuous. I went with this fellow Leo to the local 
school where he was playing the accordion for a theater/singing practice of 
the local Heimatverein.  His kids and around 25 others were practicing Platt
songs. Some brought there Holzschuhe (wooden shoes) which they'll be wearing 
at the play or concert. Again, I was busy with my video camera. Here was 
tradition in action. 

Let me quote one stanza and the refrain from just one song:

Voer Johren woert, do gueng'n wi noch
mit Hoelsken in dei Stadt,
un uck as Kinner in dei Schaul,
dor schnacken wi noch platt.
Us Vaoder sae, nu hoer eis Mamm,
wat woer dat freuer schoen,
do han wie ale Hoelzken an
un dei waern so bequem.

Refrain:
Hoelzken han wie ale,
breie un uk smale,
Hoelzken mit aohne Leer,
kohle Faeute geeft nich mehr.


(If anybody wants a translation, I'll be glad to oblige as best I can.)

It should be known that after the war my mother went to this village with my 
sister and me.  Dad was in Russia in POW camp till '49. We were city folks and 
didn't know about the country. The house of my grandparents had no water or 
toilet. It was an ancient Heuerhaus dating back to the mid 18th century. 
During the 30's they had finally placed a tile roof upon the straw that served 
for who know how long as a roof. The walls were made up out of clay patched 
into sticks of willow. These in turn were fastened to the wooden beams that 
served as the Fachwerk structure. There was no heat except for one stove in 
the Gute Stube (little living room). Later my father open his tailor shop in 
that room. The kitchen backed out into the stable and was simply a brick 
floor. Basically nothing but a stove for which I had to supply water from the 
neighbor's pump and Torf (peat) from the stable. I had this room that 
consisted of a bed and no room for anything else.  There was no light.  I read
'Quo Vadis' under the big fat down beadspread with a flashlight.

The experience gave me an inkling of what it must have been like for centuries 
before me, except that we already had many luxuries our ancestors could only 
dream of.

Another post will take us out of there.

Fred



  
-- 
W. Fred Rump 	office:	   fred@COMPU.COM     'mans feet have grown/so big 
26 Warren St.   home: fred@icdi10.compu.com  that he/forgets his littleness'
Beverly, NJ. 08010                          		Don Marquis 
609-386-6846    bang:uunet!cdin-1!icdi10!fr   
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