Backpacking with Jolene in the Appalachian Mountains/ letter to Blanche Dubois-part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Blanche of course the girl in the back packing story is real; as real as you or I. The story doesn't mean anything.
I was just trying to describe how the girl looked just before she started walking to go back packing one bright sunny day in the Mountains. Stretching and swaying in the white tee shirt, the kind with no sleeves and how all the straps were so tight across her chest.
end
Showing posts with label past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label past. Show all posts
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 13
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 13
fiction
edward w pritchard
The boy made the fire for the old fisherman and found him some bait. Old people were always trying to seem important with their tall tales. Still the old man went on. He had buried gold in the Lake, across the lake in the lilly Pads; the old man said he had buried gold in the lake in 1941. Fifty one years later the man fished here every day and the boy sometimes helped the old man before the boy rode to baseball practice this summer in 1992.
Fifteen years later the boy and his son were fishing in a row boat there on the Portage Lakes and for fun the boy, now the Father had used the oar to poke along the Lilly pads to search for hidden Nazi gold.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
The boy made the fire for the old fisherman and found him some bait. Old people were always trying to seem important with their tall tales. Still the old man went on. He had buried gold in the Lake, across the lake in the lilly Pads; the old man said he had buried gold in the lake in 1941. Fifty one years later the man fished here every day and the boy sometimes helped the old man before the boy rode to baseball practice this summer in 1992.
Fifteen years later the boy and his son were fishing in a row boat there on the Portage Lakes and for fun the boy, now the Father had used the oar to poke along the Lilly pads to search for hidden Nazi gold.
end
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 12
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 12
fiction
edward w pritchard
My contacts in America have arranged for me to live on a small series of lakes in Ohio, a State on Lake Erie. Like many Germans I have dropped out of the party, but somehow I am still alive here in 1942.
I buried 200 pounds of gold secretly here on the Portage Lakes and a similar amount of silver and a lesser amount of diamonds. No one but me knows about the dirty money I have stolen.
The American lake in Ohio is beautiful tonight and reminds me very much of the Lakes at home near Berlin.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
My contacts in America have arranged for me to live on a small series of lakes in Ohio, a State on Lake Erie. Like many Germans I have dropped out of the party, but somehow I am still alive here in 1942.
I buried 200 pounds of gold secretly here on the Portage Lakes and a similar amount of silver and a lesser amount of diamonds. No one but me knows about the dirty money I have stolen.
The American lake in Ohio is beautiful tonight and reminds me very much of the Lakes at home near Berlin.
end
Friday, December 23, 2011
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 11
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 11
fiction
edward w pritchard
see part two/ the cousin is the young boy in that story being bullied
I do love train travel. Today I go to Hamburg to talk to my young cousin. He is in trouble with the party already. He is trying to get out of being in the Hitler youth.
Today, August 22, 1936 I travel in disguise. I am playing a madman. I dress in peasant Austrian regalia like the Fuhrer dresses sometimes. Many people nod at me with approval and some salute me in honor of our leader. In silent protest I dress in imitation of the Fuhrer as I travel.
I am now head of the Family. Mercifully Father and Mother are gone of natural causes and Hans, my brother is dead too. Hans was Murdered in 1934. Hans was killed in the night of the long knives. Hans, perhaps the ideal party member, was sacrificed along with others like him in the first of what promises to be many blood purges.
Somehow I am still alive. I have been reprimanded many times by the party but I am still alive. No longer clubbing or a procurer, now I am a lackey for the party like many others. I want out but I do not want to die violently, so I endure.
fiction
edward w pritchard
see part two/ the cousin is the young boy in that story being bullied
I do love train travel. Today I go to Hamburg to talk to my young cousin. He is in trouble with the party already. He is trying to get out of being in the Hitler youth.
Today, August 22, 1936 I travel in disguise. I am playing a madman. I dress in peasant Austrian regalia like the Fuhrer dresses sometimes. Many people nod at me with approval and some salute me in honor of our leader. In silent protest I dress in imitation of the Fuhrer as I travel.
I am now head of the Family. Mercifully Father and Mother are gone of natural causes and Hans, my brother is dead too. Hans was Murdered in 1934. Hans was killed in the night of the long knives. Hans, perhaps the ideal party member, was sacrificed along with others like him in the first of what promises to be many blood purges.
Somehow I am still alive. I have been reprimanded many times by the party but I am still alive. No longer clubbing or a procurer, now I am a lackey for the party like many others. I want out but I do not want to die violently, so I endure.
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 11
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 11
fiction
edward w pritchard
I have been reported to the party. Hans is not in a position now to help me for the Brown shirts have suddenly become out of favor.
It was a holiday and most of the clubs here in Berlin were closed. Many of the clubs have changed anyway for the elections of new officials have changed things.
I took the American banker from Kentucky to a man's house I knew from the twenties. Where Lotte and I went sometimes. The man and his wife were in business, prostitution from their house. The Mother was arrested now and only the daughter was there. She is under age. She put something into the businessman's drink to knock him out while I was standing outside waiting. The client wouldn't wake up. I called the Doctor nearby.
The Doctor sat with the man from America. While we waited the girl and I were talking. I had a little too much to drink and I was disgusted with myself and life in general. The girl saddened me and made me feel bad for what I had done to Lotte.
I said the actress Marlene D. was putting on an act all the time. I told the girl about Marlene's self promotion. How she planned and promoted her own prowess sexually. Telling little innuendos. Having friends brag her up in public. I knew her, from when I was clubbing with Lotte. I told the girl sexually there isn't much difference from one person to another. So far what I told the girl was no real problem for me to say. I was just a tired rake crashing as he gets older. I said Marlene D. the actress was thick through the middle and unattractive and the image she presented to the world was a charade. Like Germany itself.
Then I compared Marlene D to Adolph H the party leader. I said the leader was acting in the same way Marlena did. The leader had many people who promoted him. I said the leader was just like everybody else. I said it was all an illusion. I said I feared for Germany. I had read the book the leader wrote. I had read Mien Kampf.
The doctor could hear the girl and I talking. The doctor has reported me. Hans can't help me. There is trouble for the Brown shirts. The Brown shirts are the old in the party. The party wants to become legitimate. Bullies like my Brother Hans represent the old of the Party. They are an embarrassment.
Hans says he must lay low. He will do what he can to help me but I must watch what I say.
end of part 11
fiction
edward w pritchard
I have been reported to the party. Hans is not in a position now to help me for the Brown shirts have suddenly become out of favor.
It was a holiday and most of the clubs here in Berlin were closed. Many of the clubs have changed anyway for the elections of new officials have changed things.
I took the American banker from Kentucky to a man's house I knew from the twenties. Where Lotte and I went sometimes. The man and his wife were in business, prostitution from their house. The Mother was arrested now and only the daughter was there. She is under age. She put something into the businessman's drink to knock him out while I was standing outside waiting. The client wouldn't wake up. I called the Doctor nearby.
The Doctor sat with the man from America. While we waited the girl and I were talking. I had a little too much to drink and I was disgusted with myself and life in general. The girl saddened me and made me feel bad for what I had done to Lotte.
I said the actress Marlene D. was putting on an act all the time. I told the girl about Marlene's self promotion. How she planned and promoted her own prowess sexually. Telling little innuendos. Having friends brag her up in public. I knew her, from when I was clubbing with Lotte. I told the girl sexually there isn't much difference from one person to another. So far what I told the girl was no real problem for me to say. I was just a tired rake crashing as he gets older. I said Marlene D. the actress was thick through the middle and unattractive and the image she presented to the world was a charade. Like Germany itself.
Then I compared Marlene D to Adolph H the party leader. I said the leader was acting in the same way Marlena did. The leader had many people who promoted him. I said the leader was just like everybody else. I said it was all an illusion. I said I feared for Germany. I had read the book the leader wrote. I had read Mien Kampf.
The doctor could hear the girl and I talking. The doctor has reported me. Hans can't help me. There is trouble for the Brown shirts. The Brown shirts are the old in the party. The party wants to become legitimate. Bullies like my Brother Hans represent the old of the Party. They are an embarrassment.
Hans says he must lay low. He will do what he can to help me but I must watch what I say.
end of part 11
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 10
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 10
fiction
edward w pritchard
Hans my Brother is now a General in the National Socialist Party. He is clowning for me. He knows carrying the suitcase makes me nervous. He assures me it is all arranged, no one will inspect my carry on.
Being in America with a suitcase full of diamond rings makes me nervous. Hans fears a little for me his younger Brother. His influence is only limited In America.
Hans clowns carrying the suitcase. It weights about twenty pounds and he pretends like it is breaking his arm as he escorts me to the plane for America.
This is just the first load of diamonds says Hans very pleased. Soon there will be more suitcases of diamonds than ten strong men can carry says Hans.
Last night I checked to be sure the suit case contained only diamond rings. Twenty pounds of diamonds rings in a suit case is quite a site.
end part 10
fiction
edward w pritchard
Hans my Brother is now a General in the National Socialist Party. He is clowning for me. He knows carrying the suitcase makes me nervous. He assures me it is all arranged, no one will inspect my carry on.
Being in America with a suitcase full of diamond rings makes me nervous. Hans fears a little for me his younger Brother. His influence is only limited In America.
Hans clowns carrying the suitcase. It weights about twenty pounds and he pretends like it is breaking his arm as he escorts me to the plane for America.
This is just the first load of diamonds says Hans very pleased. Soon there will be more suitcases of diamonds than ten strong men can carry says Hans.
Last night I checked to be sure the suit case contained only diamond rings. Twenty pounds of diamonds rings in a suit case is quite a site.
end part 10
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 9
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 9
fiction
edward w pritchard
I am now also a salesman. Modestly, I say I am maybe the best salesman in the world.
I sell just one book. It's up to $ 100 US dollars a copy. The book sells itself here in Germany. It's called Mein Kampf. It's by an important Party leader here in Germany.
Most of our neighbors along the Lake at the fishing cottage bought a copy. Han's passed the word I was selling the book and the neighbors here at the lake come in droves to buy it. Han's and I each get a commission on each copy I sell. I must be the world's greatest salesman. Like Han's says we in Germany must read the new authors.
end of part 9
fiction
edward w pritchard
I am now also a salesman. Modestly, I say I am maybe the best salesman in the world.
I sell just one book. It's up to $ 100 US dollars a copy. The book sells itself here in Germany. It's called Mein Kampf. It's by an important Party leader here in Germany.
Most of our neighbors along the Lake at the fishing cottage bought a copy. Han's passed the word I was selling the book and the neighbors here at the lake come in droves to buy it. Han's and I each get a commission on each copy I sell. I must be the world's greatest salesman. Like Han's says we in Germany must read the new authors.
end of part 9
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 8
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 8
fiction
edward w pritchard
My brother exasperates me. How can I sell gold, silver and diamonds in America if I can't sell to Jewish Bankers. What does it matter what their religion is, I plead.
Han's tries to be rational. It's another blindspot. Zionism and the Jews.
Ok. I'll try to sell gold, silver and diamonds in America without dealing with Jewish bankers or other middlemen. How I don't know. This makes Hans happy. Han's says we each must serve the Party in our own way.
How can we get gold, silver and diamonds in Gemany for free? I ask Han's incredulously. He says it is all arranged. He can't tell me yet but it involves the Jews in Germany.
The American stock market has crashed a few years ago, in October of 1929. The rich there in America have a huge demand for hard assets. Gold, silver and diamonds. I am to take gold, silver and diamonds to America to sell there. Han's insists the party will acquire the hard assets of gold, silver and diamonds here in Germany well below cost, very soon.
Meanwhile I also must continue nightly to take important Americans to the clubs here in Berlin. it is becoming more difficult. Without Lotte who is now married I have lost my connections in the sex trade in Berlin. A woman of a certain sort can know a lot of things a man can't. Lotte was my passport to the depravity of Berlin. Also the Country is changing. I can feel change coming to Germay.
end part 8
fiction
edward w pritchard
My brother exasperates me. How can I sell gold, silver and diamonds in America if I can't sell to Jewish Bankers. What does it matter what their religion is, I plead.
Han's tries to be rational. It's another blindspot. Zionism and the Jews.
Ok. I'll try to sell gold, silver and diamonds in America without dealing with Jewish bankers or other middlemen. How I don't know. This makes Hans happy. Han's says we each must serve the Party in our own way.
How can we get gold, silver and diamonds in Gemany for free? I ask Han's incredulously. He says it is all arranged. He can't tell me yet but it involves the Jews in Germany.
The American stock market has crashed a few years ago, in October of 1929. The rich there in America have a huge demand for hard assets. Gold, silver and diamonds. I am to take gold, silver and diamonds to America to sell there. Han's insists the party will acquire the hard assets of gold, silver and diamonds here in Germany well below cost, very soon.
Meanwhile I also must continue nightly to take important Americans to the clubs here in Berlin. it is becoming more difficult. Without Lotte who is now married I have lost my connections in the sex trade in Berlin. A woman of a certain sort can know a lot of things a man can't. Lotte was my passport to the depravity of Berlin. Also the Country is changing. I can feel change coming to Germay.
end part 8
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 8
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 8
fiction
edward w pritchard
Lotte, my only real female friend is trying to explain it to me. Like Hans tried to explain Aryanism to me.
Lotte has reformed. She must get healthy to have children. She wants to get engaged to my Brother Hans. It is her duty to have children. Children and kitchen is her duty. She is an Aryan woman. She must have children. She will forget her past. She will become a proper German Mother. Lotte passionately wants to join the party.
I lie to Lotte. Yes she is still the perfect Aryan beauty. Yes, I think she will be able to gain weight soon, and have children. She looks much more healthy already.
I congratulate Lotte on her engagement and on Han's last promotion.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Lotte, my only real female friend is trying to explain it to me. Like Hans tried to explain Aryanism to me.
Lotte has reformed. She must get healthy to have children. She wants to get engaged to my Brother Hans. It is her duty to have children. Children and kitchen is her duty. She is an Aryan woman. She must have children. She will forget her past. She will become a proper German Mother. Lotte passionately wants to join the party.
I lie to Lotte. Yes she is still the perfect Aryan beauty. Yes, I think she will be able to gain weight soon, and have children. She looks much more healthy already.
I congratulate Lotte on her engagement and on Han's last promotion.
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 7
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 7
fiction
edward w pritchard
Hans is lecturing me. I am trying to explain about the American business men. He doesn't understand.
The American business men when they come to Berlin could care less if a woman is Aryan. Just young, preferably, and easy, fallen and vulgar. Yes, I explain to Hans, these American businessmen who come to Berlin prefer blonds, but not because they are Aryans. Finally, I give up. It's Han's blind spot. Aryanism. Hans has been brain washed.
One procurement at a time I am rescuing the Family fortune. Hans wants me to join the Party, The National Socialists. I am tempted. For the money. What one will do to avoid real work.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Hans is lecturing me. I am trying to explain about the American business men. He doesn't understand.
The American business men when they come to Berlin could care less if a woman is Aryan. Just young, preferably, and easy, fallen and vulgar. Yes, I explain to Hans, these American businessmen who come to Berlin prefer blonds, but not because they are Aryans. Finally, I give up. It's Han's blind spot. Aryanism. Hans has been brain washed.
One procurement at a time I am rescuing the Family fortune. Hans wants me to join the Party, The National Socialists. I am tempted. For the money. What one will do to avoid real work.
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 6
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 6
fiction
edward w pritchard
I enjoy playing a part when I travel by train and today I am playing as a rich tourist from America. Here on business in Germany to look for investments. I wear a cowboy hat. My English is only fair but I throw around some of the last of the family fortune in tips to the staff here on the Express from Berlin. An American cowboy who reads Dante. I read Dante's Inferno because I am going to hell, back to coal mining territory and my Father's house.
I use the fancy cowboy hat I wore on the train as a bridge to step on to help me cross the black mucky streets of the town I grew up in. The coal tar is much worse than the last time I was here. To cross the sinking street of the hill our House is on one must wade in a shallow river of flowing black mucousy coal and oil. Someday this oil sledge will be valuable says Mother as I scrape the muck from my expensive shoes sitting with her in the bleak kitchen she has occupied peeling potatoes and cabbage for the last forty years of her married life.
My Father is proud of Hans my Brother for Hans is a dutiful soldier. Father calls me xxxx. It's hard to translate the word to English but its a good word to describe me and I get a chuckle for I am proud of my Father for he is not an educated man but he is well read. He has just called me a four flushing pervert as Cicero might have done to his youngest prodigal son under similar circumstances. Pleasantries over my Father and I get down to work on how to rescue the Family fortune.
I must go to America says Father. Hans has arranged it so I can be paid very handsomely to spend a few months in America. Do what Hans says orders Father. Go to America on business and then return to Berlin to entertain American business leaders. Hans will arrange it. It will be very lucrative and I will not have to get a real job.
As I leave home, Father loans me a pair of his worn boots to wear back to the train as I cross the oil slicks in the street in front of the house. It's quite funny; the boots remind me of the kind the prostitutes wear in Berlin, a certain kind of woman involved in a certain kind of specialty sex. I can use my experiences as a debauchee in Berlin to rescue the Family fortune it seems. My time clubbing in Berlin has been well spent.
end part 6
fiction
edward w pritchard
I enjoy playing a part when I travel by train and today I am playing as a rich tourist from America. Here on business in Germany to look for investments. I wear a cowboy hat. My English is only fair but I throw around some of the last of the family fortune in tips to the staff here on the Express from Berlin. An American cowboy who reads Dante. I read Dante's Inferno because I am going to hell, back to coal mining territory and my Father's house.
I use the fancy cowboy hat I wore on the train as a bridge to step on to help me cross the black mucky streets of the town I grew up in. The coal tar is much worse than the last time I was here. To cross the sinking street of the hill our House is on one must wade in a shallow river of flowing black mucousy coal and oil. Someday this oil sledge will be valuable says Mother as I scrape the muck from my expensive shoes sitting with her in the bleak kitchen she has occupied peeling potatoes and cabbage for the last forty years of her married life.
My Father is proud of Hans my Brother for Hans is a dutiful soldier. Father calls me xxxx. It's hard to translate the word to English but its a good word to describe me and I get a chuckle for I am proud of my Father for he is not an educated man but he is well read. He has just called me a four flushing pervert as Cicero might have done to his youngest prodigal son under similar circumstances. Pleasantries over my Father and I get down to work on how to rescue the Family fortune.
I must go to America says Father. Hans has arranged it so I can be paid very handsomely to spend a few months in America. Do what Hans says orders Father. Go to America on business and then return to Berlin to entertain American business leaders. Hans will arrange it. It will be very lucrative and I will not have to get a real job.
As I leave home, Father loans me a pair of his worn boots to wear back to the train as I cross the oil slicks in the street in front of the house. It's quite funny; the boots remind me of the kind the prostitutes wear in Berlin, a certain kind of woman involved in a certain kind of specialty sex. I can use my experiences as a debauchee in Berlin to rescue the Family fortune it seems. My time clubbing in Berlin has been well spent.
end part 6
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 5
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
My brother, the German soldier has came to our families fishing cottage here on the beautiful Lake to lecture me officially for the Family on my profligate ways.
Father's money is nearly gone says Hans. Not just because of me being a spendthrift with Father's checkbook but also because of German inflation and a series of bad investments by our Father and Hans my Brother. I must talk to Father about finances which means I must return to coal mining territory, where our Family home is. I hate the thought of going back home; the smell of our neighborhood turns my stomach for we live on the largest slag heap in the world. Coal is money, and money stinks, to me at least. But I must go home for I am good with money and finance when I am not being perverse. I must leave Berlin and return to coal country. To the mess and smell of the coal tar with it's sticky streets and pervasive smell of over-work. Men toiling dawn to dusk, and women, such as my Mother killing themselves to keep a dilapated shack clean. Back, back home to coal country to rescue the Family fortune so my Brother Hans can continue to torture the weak and I can spend my nights in a whirl of sexual deparavity in Wiemar Berlin.
end part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
My brother, the German soldier has came to our families fishing cottage here on the beautiful Lake to lecture me officially for the Family on my profligate ways.
Father's money is nearly gone says Hans. Not just because of me being a spendthrift with Father's checkbook but also because of German inflation and a series of bad investments by our Father and Hans my Brother. I must talk to Father about finances which means I must return to coal mining territory, where our Family home is. I hate the thought of going back home; the smell of our neighborhood turns my stomach for we live on the largest slag heap in the world. Coal is money, and money stinks, to me at least. But I must go home for I am good with money and finance when I am not being perverse. I must leave Berlin and return to coal country. To the mess and smell of the coal tar with it's sticky streets and pervasive smell of over-work. Men toiling dawn to dusk, and women, such as my Mother killing themselves to keep a dilapated shack clean. Back, back home to coal country to rescue the Family fortune so my Brother Hans can continue to torture the weak and I can spend my nights in a whirl of sexual deparavity in Wiemar Berlin.
end part 5
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 4
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Han's didn't complain that I ruined his copy of Hegel. The leather bound book got soaked in a hard rain last year. Han's says Hegel is a good German but we must read the newer author's now if we read at all. Han's says now is the time for action, as he prepares my breakfast.
Han's has gained weight and muscle I see, and my brother looks imposing in his brown uniform. He sings an old song our Mother use to hum around the kitchen as he prepares me and Lotte an omlette. Lotte is drinking gin this morning. I try to get her to have orange juice but she says she will have her gin straight today.
Han's gives Lotte a double serving of eggs for Lotte has obviously lost weight. Han's can have a maternal side at times. Lotte has lost weight, I notice it now after Hans mentions it to me. My appetite is non existant today as well.
end part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Han's didn't complain that I ruined his copy of Hegel. The leather bound book got soaked in a hard rain last year. Han's says Hegel is a good German but we must read the newer author's now if we read at all. Han's says now is the time for action, as he prepares my breakfast.
Han's has gained weight and muscle I see, and my brother looks imposing in his brown uniform. He sings an old song our Mother use to hum around the kitchen as he prepares me and Lotte an omlette. Lotte is drinking gin this morning. I try to get her to have orange juice but she says she will have her gin straight today.
Han's gives Lotte a double serving of eggs for Lotte has obviously lost weight. Han's can have a maternal side at times. Lotte has lost weight, I notice it now after Hans mentions it to me. My appetite is non existant today as well.
end part 4
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 3
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
My Brother Han's crying is disturbing Lotte. Hans must think it's ok to cry because the sound of the driving rain on the roof and winds here at the fishing cottage will drown out his sobs. He is the older Brother, and he has full rights to use the Cottage any time he wants to. Han's is disturbing Lotte. Lotte doesn't sleep well anymore and we left Berlin to have some peace and quiet. Just Lotte and me, no other partners tonight.
Hans left his uniform in the hall. I can smell the hate on the uniform from here in the bedroom as I hold Lotte. Hans is a storm trooper, a brown shirt. Grandfather says in World War One storm troopers bought a bill of goods from the officers, to get them to charge the enemy trenches after the German cause was doomed. I smell the hate and fear on Han's uniform. Lotte is sleeping fitfully. She jumps violently in her sleep as I hold her. She must be dreaming of Berlin. Hans is sobbing quietly now. It's near dawn now here on the Lake, lights will be coming on soon in the other cottages as our neighbors start their breakfasts.
end part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
My Brother Han's crying is disturbing Lotte. Hans must think it's ok to cry because the sound of the driving rain on the roof and winds here at the fishing cottage will drown out his sobs. He is the older Brother, and he has full rights to use the Cottage any time he wants to. Han's is disturbing Lotte. Lotte doesn't sleep well anymore and we left Berlin to have some peace and quiet. Just Lotte and me, no other partners tonight.
Hans left his uniform in the hall. I can smell the hate on the uniform from here in the bedroom as I hold Lotte. Hans is a storm trooper, a brown shirt. Grandfather says in World War One storm troopers bought a bill of goods from the officers, to get them to charge the enemy trenches after the German cause was doomed. I smell the hate and fear on Han's uniform. Lotte is sleeping fitfully. She jumps violently in her sleep as I hold her. She must be dreaming of Berlin. Hans is sobbing quietly now. It's near dawn now here on the Lake, lights will be coming on soon in the other cottages as our neighbors start their breakfasts.
end part 3
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 2
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1, part 2
no one to talk to, no choice but to comply
fiction
edward w pritchard
the third brother
If I was brave, If I was forceful, If I was determined I wouldn't have to kill myself; but if I was brave, forceful and determined I wouldn't have a problem. I would be accepted in the Hitler youth, I wouldn't be tormented for being weak, and my problem would vanish for I would among be the strong myself, a tormentor rather than a victim of daily hazings and bullying. I am too cowardly to kill myself so the beatings continue.
My tormentors have been warned, they may not leave a bruise anymore. Mostly I am now thumped. An open hand to the upper back or the arm. Often, by many. Verbal abuse too, my adult instructors use me as the stock example in most stories of Decadent German youth. Only the Jews suffer more verbal abuse than me, and of course, Jews don't have to be in the Hitler Youth at age 14 nor do they attend the daily party lectures like I do.
My parents have sold me out to the Party. They forced me to join the Hitlerjugen. Without a connection with the Nazi party my life will be difficult says my Father, for the Nazi's will have their way in Germany for the foreseeable future. Both my Mother and Father have forsaken me, their only child, for expediency's sake. It's been ninety days that I have been in the Hitler youth and I was out of step immediately. Implicitly odd balls like me are targeted for abuse to either toughen us up and as an example to the other boys. Also bullying is natural, a logical out-flowing of the the Party's philosophy.
It's nearly impossible to get away from the Nazi philosophy here in Hamburg in 1936. The only break I get from the Hitler youth is when I am at my Grand father's farm.
My Grandfather hates the Nazi's, but he says I have to man up, like he did in World War One. That's why they leave him alone. He is a veteran, and a highly decorated enlisted man. The local Nazi's let Grandfather rant partly because of his war injuries, some to his head. Me I have to carefully follow the party philosophy even in my secret thoughts. Because I am watched I never know who is listening or who is watching my expressions as I go about my day. Only at my Grand Father's farm thirty miles East of Hamburg do I feel safe and secure from scrutiny.
When my Grand Father saw the bruises on my arms he told me the story about his sergeant in World War one. My Grand Father was one of three enlisted men suspected of shooting their platoon sergeant. As the sergeant lead his men from a trench, the sergeant was shot three times from the back. My Grand Father says I must learn to confront my problems with bullying at school that same way.
Grand Father doesn't understand. These Nazi's are different. They are ubiquitous. Every day there are more and more Nazi's and they become more and more powerful. I am one of them. I told my Grand Father that if I wasn't thought to have the potential to be a valuable party member some day I would be in a work camp or maybe dead by now. As for Grand Father's story about his sergeant, I am sure that the Nazi's have a file on Grand Father and his tenacity is one of the reasons I am thought to have potential and why the Party takes the trouble to groom me for the future. For now, today at least I can relax here at Grand Father's farm. Tom-morrow though it's back to the lectures and the party. Perhaps I can start to pick at some of the younger children when I return to classes. It's a way to direct attention from myself and allow me to fit in better.
What can I learn from Grand Father's story of his sergeant that will help me survive in the Hitler youth? I must have it in me to be able to cope. Grand Father did it, so can I.
end part 2
no one to talk to, no choice but to comply
fiction
edward w pritchard
the third brother
If I was brave, If I was forceful, If I was determined I wouldn't have to kill myself; but if I was brave, forceful and determined I wouldn't have a problem. I would be accepted in the Hitler youth, I wouldn't be tormented for being weak, and my problem would vanish for I would among be the strong myself, a tormentor rather than a victim of daily hazings and bullying. I am too cowardly to kill myself so the beatings continue.
My tormentors have been warned, they may not leave a bruise anymore. Mostly I am now thumped. An open hand to the upper back or the arm. Often, by many. Verbal abuse too, my adult instructors use me as the stock example in most stories of Decadent German youth. Only the Jews suffer more verbal abuse than me, and of course, Jews don't have to be in the Hitler Youth at age 14 nor do they attend the daily party lectures like I do.
My parents have sold me out to the Party. They forced me to join the Hitlerjugen. Without a connection with the Nazi party my life will be difficult says my Father, for the Nazi's will have their way in Germany for the foreseeable future. Both my Mother and Father have forsaken me, their only child, for expediency's sake. It's been ninety days that I have been in the Hitler youth and I was out of step immediately. Implicitly odd balls like me are targeted for abuse to either toughen us up and as an example to the other boys. Also bullying is natural, a logical out-flowing of the the Party's philosophy.
It's nearly impossible to get away from the Nazi philosophy here in Hamburg in 1936. The only break I get from the Hitler youth is when I am at my Grand father's farm.
My Grandfather hates the Nazi's, but he says I have to man up, like he did in World War One. That's why they leave him alone. He is a veteran, and a highly decorated enlisted man. The local Nazi's let Grandfather rant partly because of his war injuries, some to his head. Me I have to carefully follow the party philosophy even in my secret thoughts. Because I am watched I never know who is listening or who is watching my expressions as I go about my day. Only at my Grand Father's farm thirty miles East of Hamburg do I feel safe and secure from scrutiny.
When my Grand Father saw the bruises on my arms he told me the story about his sergeant in World War one. My Grand Father was one of three enlisted men suspected of shooting their platoon sergeant. As the sergeant lead his men from a trench, the sergeant was shot three times from the back. My Grand Father says I must learn to confront my problems with bullying at school that same way.
Grand Father doesn't understand. These Nazi's are different. They are ubiquitous. Every day there are more and more Nazi's and they become more and more powerful. I am one of them. I told my Grand Father that if I wasn't thought to have the potential to be a valuable party member some day I would be in a work camp or maybe dead by now. As for Grand Father's story about his sergeant, I am sure that the Nazi's have a file on Grand Father and his tenacity is one of the reasons I am thought to have potential and why the Party takes the trouble to groom me for the future. For now, today at least I can relax here at Grand Father's farm. Tom-morrow though it's back to the lectures and the party. Perhaps I can start to pick at some of the younger children when I return to classes. It's a way to direct attention from myself and allow me to fit in better.
What can I learn from Grand Father's story of his sergeant that will help me survive in the Hitler youth? I must have it in me to be able to cope. Grand Father did it, so can I.
end part 2
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1
Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship/draft 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Wherever now I abide Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship. I still hear the music and still smell Berlin's unguent dancing naked ladies. Now it all seems a dream, as if it happened to someone else, but then it was real and I had no to reason to suspect that it would be soon be over. We were young and old ways of failure needed to be forgotten so for me there was no day, only endless nights. By night we lived our lives with abandon, from club to club, perverse, perhaps aware subconsciously that it all would end brutally. What I thought then was the sound of my racing heart was a faint rumble of distant goosestepping soldiers, marching to annihilate Berlin's decedent permutations.
My life then revolved around the shoreline at the lakes. My Brother was fighting the Communists and I had sole use of Father's cottage, the luxurious fishing shack as my Brother the eternal soldier fighting for Fatherland called our families second home.
A light rain was falling, ruining the leather bound copy of Hegel's dialectics I read as I watched the lights, one by one blink on to illuminate hundreds of comfortable kitchens; as families along the Lake, celebrated their dinner tonight, June 28, 1924. This would be my last quiet evening at home.
Lotte carried French champagne as she walked up to the bench where I was reading there on the shoreline, near a small flickering fire. Hegel was forgotten. Lotte wore nothing under the yellow rain slicker. Whatever Lotte asked, I did, always. Fishing through the inside pockets of her yellow crinkling slicker for crystal champagne glasses, the smell of her perfume and the rustle of the scraping wet yellow slicker and clinking champagne glasses ended my life as a scholar as Lotte and I conspired to sample Berlin's perversity's one club at a time for the next seven years.
end part one
fiction
edward w pritchard
Wherever now I abide Wiemar Germany is where my heart finds fellowship. I still hear the music and still smell Berlin's unguent dancing naked ladies. Now it all seems a dream, as if it happened to someone else, but then it was real and I had no to reason to suspect that it would be soon be over. We were young and old ways of failure needed to be forgotten so for me there was no day, only endless nights. By night we lived our lives with abandon, from club to club, perverse, perhaps aware subconsciously that it all would end brutally. What I thought then was the sound of my racing heart was a faint rumble of distant goosestepping soldiers, marching to annihilate Berlin's decedent permutations.
My life then revolved around the shoreline at the lakes. My Brother was fighting the Communists and I had sole use of Father's cottage, the luxurious fishing shack as my Brother the eternal soldier fighting for Fatherland called our families second home.
A light rain was falling, ruining the leather bound copy of Hegel's dialectics I read as I watched the lights, one by one blink on to illuminate hundreds of comfortable kitchens; as families along the Lake, celebrated their dinner tonight, June 28, 1924. This would be my last quiet evening at home.
Lotte carried French champagne as she walked up to the bench where I was reading there on the shoreline, near a small flickering fire. Hegel was forgotten. Lotte wore nothing under the yellow rain slicker. Whatever Lotte asked, I did, always. Fishing through the inside pockets of her yellow crinkling slicker for crystal champagne glasses, the smell of her perfume and the rustle of the scraping wet yellow slicker and clinking champagne glasses ended my life as a scholar as Lotte and I conspired to sample Berlin's perversity's one club at a time for the next seven years.
end part one
Friday, September 17, 2010
the rich section of town
the rich section of town
fiction
edward w pritchard
My History professor at State College said the reason the rich moved to the West of our town's downtown was the old Street car line ran that way and couldn't make it up the hills out there; so naturally the wealthy moved just past where everybody else could travel too. As technology of Street Car design improved the rich areas moved further and further West until automobiles came along and then the wealthy moved way West to the suburbs. At least that's what the rich did until the nineteen fifties when our town began a slow demise and the rich disappeared, except for fund raising and anonymous donations.
Sitting in traffic at the corner of Market, the original east-west road I noticed that the Myers family had an elaborate mausoleum at the old cemetery about four miles from the downtown. Right at the base of that once obstreperous series of hills
inaccessible to the first streetcars and common folk was the finest cemetery in our city. The long forgotten Myers family built a fortress like Mausoleum for the protection and proclamation of their family name in death at that cemetery at the base of that small hill.
Sitting in traffic there, waiting for the traffic light I wonder what became of the Myers family in our town?
fiction
edward w pritchard
My History professor at State College said the reason the rich moved to the West of our town's downtown was the old Street car line ran that way and couldn't make it up the hills out there; so naturally the wealthy moved just past where everybody else could travel too. As technology of Street Car design improved the rich areas moved further and further West until automobiles came along and then the wealthy moved way West to the suburbs. At least that's what the rich did until the nineteen fifties when our town began a slow demise and the rich disappeared, except for fund raising and anonymous donations.
Sitting in traffic at the corner of Market, the original east-west road I noticed that the Myers family had an elaborate mausoleum at the old cemetery about four miles from the downtown. Right at the base of that once obstreperous series of hills
inaccessible to the first streetcars and common folk was the finest cemetery in our city. The long forgotten Myers family built a fortress like Mausoleum for the protection and proclamation of their family name in death at that cemetery at the base of that small hill.
Sitting in traffic there, waiting for the traffic light I wonder what became of the Myers family in our town?
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