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Sandra Spieker (Ringo)
Watching Tommy's video brought back a few memories for me, not due to the subtitles mind you, but just looking at the movie clip, especially the language, German. I think I was Junior when I decided to take German. It seemed a logical choice for me, since my parents are both Dutch and spoke both Dutch and German. My parents never taught me Dutch. My father always made a big deal about speaking English. When he met my mother, she did not speak English. She learned it before I was born though, but struggled with it from time to time. So English was emphasized, without accent if possible. Instead Dutch was used as a tool against the kids (my sister and I) to hide anything they did not want us to hear. As a result, I can speak some Dutch, but it is mostly the more colorful variety. As grandparents, my parents carried on this tradition with my son and he too has been blessed with cursing quite vividly in Dutch. You gotta love Grandmothers and Fathers!
Back to the past, when I told my mother I was going to take German, she flew into an unexpected rage. She told me it was a filthy language and she couldn't understand why I did not sign up for Dutch. You see my mother was only about 12 or 13 when the Germans invaded Holland, so I think she was speaking from the heart. She wanted me to maintain the family roots for sure. I had to explain to her that the school did not offer Dutch. "Why not?", was the response. After much debate, with no real resolution, she sulked for a couple of days and I took German. I never asked her for help with my German homework. Just seemed the right thing to do.
Now, to the present. My mom is still alive and kicking, although without as much vigor. I take care of her, help her shop, clean the house, you name it. I am lucky so far. Her mind is clear. Every now and then she can recall some stuff from the past that is new to me. A few weeks ago, we were talking about wanting a good soup to eat, since the weather was so brutal. We were in the car driving to go grocery shopping. So now she goes into this story about soup and the Natzis. Yep, you read that right. Soup and Natzis. It seems that during the war and her tender teenage years, she and her mom, aunts and brother, were hungry quite a lot. Her father and mother were divorced. Her mother ran a boarding house and the Natzi soliders stayed there, all the time. They noticed the family struggle for food and in a gesture of good will, I suppose, suggested that someone stop by and get some soup at their commissary. Mother was elected to go, perhaps her innocence would get them a bigger bowl. She went. She said she still remembers how it tasted. It was very good. But she told them, no matter how hungry or bad it got, she would never go back to get more. Her quote to me on this was, "I would never go back to that place, ever." I did not press her more on this. Seemed the right thing to do.
Now I understand why I got the silent treatment for two days that week long ago in the 60's. We are so lucky, no one has ever invaded and occupied us here on our own soil. We have not starved, or gone without shoes, or used cardboard to resole them because of an invading army. We don't know what it is like to entertain the enemy, or watch as our fellow citizens are marched off or shot in the streets. I am glad I have mama around to remind me though. It's good for me.
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