Surreal Georgia

Quiet (Photo Challenge)

 

Quiet? What could be more quiet than a cemetery? A cemetery that is usually under water!

We have got a huge artificial lake her, the Edersee, which came into being in 1914. It buried three villages. In one of them my great great grandfather once lived as a teacher. When people moved away before the flood came they sealed the old cemeteries with concrete plates. Sometimes when the water is extremely low you can visit the ruins of the villages and also see the graves there.

This was a door which once led to the valley of the river Eder. It's usually under water.

Remains of an old cellar. The houses are gone long ago. 

Look here, where I took this picture. In the background it is Anna coming along:

 

The water was extremely low then. All you see is normally seaground.

Way from the cemetery to the boats.

I made a short film with my camera:

 

 

And this is how the cemetery looks like. Each grae has got a number on it, so you still know who was buried there. Sometimes relatives bring flowers.

Some graves were still under water.

We were scared by bubbles coming out of the graves. Well, we thought that it would be decaying corpses, which are the reason therefore. But a friend told us that it were just bacteriae and algae who would cause these bubbles. Look yourself!

  

 

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 Photo Challenge!

http://margareetaville.blogspot.com/

http://bustershouse.wordpress.com/

http://jayahrsblog.blogspot.com/

 

My Mother's Family Between Silesia, Prussia, Austria, Poland and Slovakia

It's a very old and mysterious story, the story of my mother's great grandfather Andreas. A story between war, desparation and glory, a story about a life lived incognito, a mystery we never completely solved.

I've been investigating what happened then for over 20 years now and contacted many of the descendants of the protagonists of the story. One of them is Count Praschma of Nuremberg. He was touched by this story and wrote about it in his family newspaper.

Here you can read the complete article he wrote: 

"Instead Of A Passport" 

And this is what I once blogged about it:

"A Mysterious Coat Of Arms"

I resposted these articles especially for my friend Ree.

 

 

 

Something Old

The oldest thing I owe is a coin of the Counts of Waldeck(at that time there were three reigning at he same time, Johan, Wolrad and Philipp) from about 1638, called "Pfennig". I found it a few years ago when strolling through the fields near our village. It's pure fun searching for old things in the fields in early spring. We found also artefacts from the Neolithic Age. But because I don't know how old they exactely are, I chose this coin.

And I chose another pic from the spinning wheel of my grandma Anna. It must be older than her, because there is a comic on it in a small glass window, which is from about 1820. I think Granny has inherited it from her grandmother. She used it until WWII and we still have a lot of linen she spun and wove.

The comic shows a couple and a rose and it says: "You beautiful girl, I love you!" The way the couple is dressed suggests that the comic came into being during the Biedermeier Era. The four knobs around the little window are made of ivory or bone.

 

November - Month of the Deceased; Tribute to Louis

It's November again. A month, we use to think of our beloved family members and friends, who are deceased. A month, we use to bring flowers and wreaths to their graves and light candles, that brighten the night on the graveyards.

And when you can't go there, you can bring virtual flowers. Yesterday I found an interesting site where I found a lot of graves of my Eriete family. Here is one, just as an example: Louis Albracht,  who went to Erie with his twin brother Henry. Both were born in Rhoden in the beautiful Dukedom of Waldeck. Louis was a carpenter and reconstructed the Lutheran Church in Erie, Henry was an engineer. Both constructed sturdy brick houses at French Street 309 and 310 after they attended and survived the Civil War. Their nephew Carl Reins died in Tennessee, but both brothers were lucky and came back to Erie. Louis married Lena Curtze. He died in 1910. 

Here is a picture for Louis from where he is born:

I'm sure he can see all this from his cloud in heaven.

Findagrave.com is a wonderful site, where you can find a lot of information about your family. And it's a wonderful way to send virtual flowers. Thank you for this! Theanks to the people who made this site and thanks to those who helped with all the pictures of tombstones.

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Tombstone of Louis: Picture shot by my cousin Mary Kappelt Skol at Erie Cemetery

Rhoden: Old Postcard owned by my Aunt Louise Klapthor of Erie

 

A Pennsylvanian Old Book

Look, what Anna and I found among my grandma's books! Nobody noticed that this book is from America, from Reading in Pennsylvania!

You can read: "Pilger-Buchhandlung, Reading, PA". As far as I know Reading is the area of Pennsylvania where a lot of Amish people live and I heard that they have been speaking German until the 1950ies or even later. The "Pilger-Buchhandlung" released books for them in German language.

The title of this book is "Christ und Jude", which is translated "Christian and Jew". But don't think the book would be racist. It is not. The story is about the time of 1600 and the book is released long before the Nazis were even known in Germany. There is no year printed, but because of the design of the book it must be released between 1900 and 1910 or only a bit later, maybe up to 1920.

Class picture of Gridley School 1924; the teacher doesn't seem to be Emelia

How does a book from Pennsylvania found its way into my granny's bookcase? There is only one way: Her relatives from Erie must have given her the book when they visited her and the Albracht-Family in Wethen. They knew that my grandma loved books and reading, so they brought her something to read from their home Erie. I searched some American records and found only one person, who travelled to Wethen: Emelia Bark was several times in Germany, in Waldeck, at least two times, but I think it could be also 3 times or more. Emelia Bark was the daughter of Caroline Albracht Bark, who was the sister of my great grandfather Georg Albracht, my granny's father. So Emelia was my granny's close cousin. She was a teacher at Gridley school in Erie and she teached German. 

Ship Republic in 1926

Emelia on the ship, 1926

Emelia first went by ship (it was the Republic) in summer 1926 and was back in New York on September 4, 1926.

Document about Emelia's flight in 1957

The second time she went by plane to Frankfurt in May 1957 and was back in New York on June 10, 1957. I knew about this last visit, because she lived at my grandparents' house, because all other houses of her relatives didn't have any bathrooms or toilets at that time. My grandparents were the first in the village. Another cousin of Emelia, Auguste Thoene, was a bit sad about this, because she had prepared Emelia's visit and now she preferred living at my grandma's house. 

Emelia's grave at Erie Cemetery

Emelia died shortly after her last visit in 1960. My Grandma often spoke of her American relatives and she was always very proud of them.

   

passport request of Emelia in 1913

But maybe there was an earlier visit, which would be more matching to the age of the book. I found out that Emelia Bark requested a passport in 1913. But as far as I know she also travelled to Mexico, so I'm not sure that she needed the passport for Germany.

Emelia in the 1920ies and on Christmas 1959

Obituary of Emelia Bark, Erie Times News

I googled about "Pilger-Buchhandlung" in Reading, PA, but I couldn't find out anything about the history of this publlisher. I appreciate every hint about the publisher. I only found another issue of the book, same title, same publisher, but red binding, which can be bought for 149 Dollars: http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/BookDetailsPL?bi=603663394&searchurl=bi%3D0%26bsi%3D30%26bx%3Doff%26ds%3D30%26pn%3Dpilger-buchhandlung%26sortby%3D2%26x%3D47%26y%3D7

Maybe one of you, my dear readers, knows anything about this very special publisher for the Mennonites of Reading?

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Pictures:

• pictures of the book by Georgia; all rights reserved
• documents of American records and picture of the Republic by ancestry.com
• picture of Emelia Bark om the ship by Emmy Thoene; all rights reserved
• picture of Emelia Bark in the 20ies by Louise Klapthor of Erie; all rights reserved
• picture of Emelia Bark Christmas 1959 by Georgia; all rights reserved
• picture of Emelia's tombstone by my dear cousin Mary of Erie; all rights reserved
• obituary of Emelia Bark from Erie Public Library (thanks to Terry!)
• picture of Gridley School by Gaylene Kerr Banister/Erie; all rights reserved

93 Year Old Postcards

Today I tidied up a lot of my father's stuff, because I have to make the yearly tax return. This year it is the first time I do this for my mother. It's hard for me seeing through all my father's personal stuff and things he kept as reminders of lucky times in his life or as reminders of persons he deeply loved.

I couldn't stop crying today until I found two postcards of about 1915 my grandfather sent to my grandmother from France, where he was when he was a soldier during WW I. These postcards made me smile, although I know that war wasn't a bit funny, so it was sort of a bitter smile. But these were the jokes soldiers usually sent to their beloved ones at home. They shouldn't worry about their well-being. When WW II began my grandparents cried, because they knew from WW I what war was really like.

Translation: From far away during my watch duty I'm thinking of you. Here is a picture of me, here you can see me.

"Field billet" my grandfather wrote. Well, reality was very, very different from this.

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Pictures: All rights reserved

The Night 22 Years Ago

I don’t feel like writing today, I don’t feel like doing anything today. So let me only write a short notice about what this day, December 27th, means to me:

22 years ago my dear, dear grandmother Anna Albracht died on December 27, 1895. The day before I spent with her all alone and it was a wonderful day full of love and of her 1001 amazing stories. She was an excellent story-teller and I couldn’t stop listening to her. This afternoon she asked me if I would keep all things and memories which belong to her first born son Fritz. And I promised her that I would and that I also would try to find out why he had to die (of course it was war, but it did matter how and why her son had to die) and where he was exactly buried. She only knew the name of a small Russian town, but nothing else. Later it seemed to me as if she had tried to organize all for the time after her death. There have been also other things she told me deep from her heart, but about which I never will talk at this place. I keep them in my heart. This later convinced me, that she might have felt that her death was near. I think that she didn’t know that she had to die this night of a heart-attack, but she was very, very afraid of the coming night. I tried to persuade her not to stay in her home in Rhoden (she had an apartment in a retirement-home), but to come with me and sleep in her house in Wethen. She refused. She wanted to stay in her apartment although she was so afraid of the night. - Later I said goodbye and it was the last time I saw her kind face and her always alert and a bit impish eyes.

 

Old and young...

During the night there was a severe blizzard and this might have caused her death. Papa and I even weren’t able to get from Wethen to Rhoden, although it is not far away. Our car stuck in the snow. I tried to push it the long way from the gas station in the valley to the castle on top of the Hagenberg, but I had to give in at about half distance. It was too late in any way. She died at 5 o’clock in the morning and when we finally arrived the retirement-home it was about 8 o’clock. She was already dead when they called us. It happened much too quickly. When we came she was already laid out in the chapel, a beautiful old lady with a kind face, smiling a little bit like she always did. She was nearly 93 years old.

3 generations under the Christmas-tree

You may say 22 years is too long ago to feel sorrow and grief, but I miss her badly and I often think of her. She was a quiet and modest, but brave and warmhearted extraordinary woman. Around her there was always an aura of warmth and love. Nothing over-the-top, just in this modest and quiet way she always was.

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Pictures: all rights reserved

Outhouse-Story: De Mond de hett en Hoff

Yesterday evening when I drove home through the darkness the big and bright full moon accompanied me. So I thought of a very old story my father used to tell. I don't know if it really happened or if it is something like an old joke, but here it is:

Formerly people didn't have bathrooms or toilets in their houses. There have been outhouses. One night the old wife woke up her husband, because she had to go to the outhouse and was afraid of going alone. So the couple walked to the courtyard and she disappeared in the outhouse. Well, it took a little longer, so the old man looked around and pondered: "Et is von Oabend sternenkloar..." (It is starlit tonight.) His wife in the outhouse didn't understand him very well and asked: "Watt, Kerls sin doa?" (What, villains are there?) But he didn't notice her and went on talking to himself: "De Mond, de hett en Hoff." (The moon has got a halo.) He hadn't finished when his wife ran out of the outhouse with naked butt and crying: "Se sind schon aufm Hoff!????" (They are already on our courtyard!???)

It's rather difficult to translate this little old story. The misunderstanding is caused by the words "kloar" (clear) and the word "doa" (there), which are a rhyme in Low German. The second misunderstanding is caused by the fact, that the German word for halo and courtyard is the same: Hof or Hoff in Low German.

Outhouse with beautiful view: I didn't want to keep back this!

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Pictures: Public domain

"Wichteln" for Bloggers

Secret Santa – a wonderful idea from Erieblogs...

I wish I could participate, but I'm afraid that this isn't possible, because Amazon Germany is not Amazon US and so it might be difficult or impossible seeing wish lists from each other or shipping the present. *sigh*

At us we also know something similar. You know, I'm a teacher. In most classes our pupils do it at Christmas time. It’s called „wichteln“ after the „Wichtelmaennchen“ or „Heinzelmaennchen“ of Cologne, who always did something good to the people of Cologne during the nights:

"The little house gnomes are said to have done all the work of the citizens of Cologne during the night, so that the inhabitants of Cologne could be very lazy during the day. According to the legend, this went on until a tailor's wife got so curious to see the gnomes that she scattered peas onto the floor of the workshop to make the gnomes slip and fall. The gnomes, being infuriated, disappeared and never returned. From that time on, the citizens of Cologne had to do all their work by themselves."

Well, this story originally was a criticism of the Prussians on the lazy Rhine-Landers. But who cares today about this origin!

This is a diorama of the "Heinzelmaennchen". Look, there is the Cathedral of Cologne in the background!

Back to our Christmas-Wichtel or Secret Santas: During Advent time every day another pupil gets a little present from a classmate. There were drawn lots before this action starts who has to present whom. And on the last day before Christmas everybody has to guess who was his „Wichtel“, which means who made the present.

So let's wichtel, Erie-bloggers!

The Heinzelmaennchen-well in Cologne. Do you see them? And the tailor's wife at the top?

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Pictures: Public domain

Source: Wikipedia

Read more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heinzelm%C3%A4nnchen

Three Terrible Trekking-Tours

The Piz Buin- Massif, our favorite mountain in the Austrian Alps, where we had several wonderful trekking-tours and also one very bad one...

Yesterday an accident happened in the Austrian Alps: A group of 3 friends started trekking from one hut high in the mountains to another hut. It wasn’t a difficult way and they hadn’t to climb, but it has snowed all the days before and so the new snow blocked their way. I can’t understand why they didn’t go back to the hut where they have been from when they sank into the snow until their hips or deeper. No, they decided to go on. The story ended like it has to end: After the point of no return they had to go on although they began to freeze, because the way back was more distant than their destination. 300 meters apart from the hut two of the friends were nearly frozen to death and couldn’t move any more. So the third man, the youngest of the three, had to decide which of them he had to carry to the hut, because he only could carry one of his friends. So he took one of them and left the other laying in the snow. In the hut they could rescue the two men. A helicopter took them to a hospital. The third man was already dead when they tried to fetch him shortly after the arrival of his two friends. Never before a man was frozen to death as near to a hut – only 300 meters.

This made me think of the worst trekking tours I ever experienced in the Alps.

Anna on one of our wonderful trekking-tours in the Austrian Alps

The first one was in the German Alps. It has been a beautiful sunny summer-day and I wanted to make a tour with Anna high in the frost- and rock-zone of the Alps. Anna was a little girl at that time, perhaps 6 years old, so we chose a tour without any dangerous paths. From a hut we slowly walked several hours over rocks and ice in a high valley, we had a picnic on a huge stone and Anna enjoyed sliding on little ice-fields. Above us, perhaps 300 meter higher we could see a group of climbers climbing along a very steep crest. Suddenly the group became very excited. One of the climbers shouted to us: „One of our comrades has fallen about 300 meters deep from the crest. He is lying there and doesn’t move any more. It’s too steep, we can’t reach him. Perhaps he is still alive. Could you please go back to the next hut for calling the hospital for a helicopter?“ I shouted back: „I will hurry up, but the next hut is about 2 hours from here and I can’t go very fast, because my child is very young. But I will do my best!“ So Anna and I trekked back as fast as we could. On our way there were several tourists crossing our way. I asked them all for help, because they would have been much faster than I with my little Anna. But they all answered: „No, these are my holidays. I don’t feel like going back.“ I’ve never understood how people can refuse helping somebody who has had such an accident. I was appalled. The climber of the group who had called after me saw that I was too slow and he noticed that the tourists refused helping us. So he shouted that he would try to come down the mountain himself. Without any skiers only on his trekking-shoes he slid down a large and steep ice-field. I felt relieved and explained him the way to the next hut, where he could ask for help. Later Anna and I saw the helicopter above the place where the accident has happened. In the meantime we were back to the hut and were sitting on the huge terrace having some cool drinks. The next day we heard that the man was dead. He had fallen from the crest because he wanted to pee and therefore had tried to hide behind a stone.

Another bad trekking tour was some years later in the Austrian Alps. Anna was 11 years old and loved trekking-tours. Like the frozen men we tried to go from hut to hut on a path in about 3000 meters above NN. The tour was about 25 or 30 kilometers and not dangerous. When we started it was a beautiful day with bright sunshine. The weather forecast was good. We walked higher and higher and nearly reached a pass - to our destination it would have been perhaps another 1 1/2 hours- , when the weather suddenly totally changed. Within 5 minutes a wall of thick fog crept over the pass with incredible high speed towards us. It was scary. Because we didn’t know the way over the pass and the fog came from thi direction there was only one choice: Going back immediately before the fog would reach us. You must know, there wasn’t any path, only a few stones with red signs marked the way and in the fog we wouldn’t have been able to see the next stone. So if the fog would have reached us we only could have sat down there until the next day. This would have been very dangerous, because also in summer there can be snow and frost and this would have been our death. At that time there weren’t still any cell-phones, so we wouldn’t have been able to call for help. Anna and I immediately went back as fast as we could. Within a few minutes the sky was totally grey and it rained cats and dogs – the fog still following us very quickly. It became very, very cold. But there was no time for anything; we had to run down the steep mountainside. In the meantime torrents of water ran also down the hillside, so it became very slippery. It happened what had to happen: I slipped with my heavy frame rucksack and sledded several hundreds of meters downhill on my back. I already thought: Good bye world! But a huge rock stopped me. My knee absorbed the impact and became very swollen immediately (It kept swollen and aching for several weeks, but I was lucky, becausee I could still walk.). But the fear made us going on. And it was about time: When we reached the next glen the little creeks which we walked through on our way towards the pass had become rapidly flowing wildwaters. Only a few minutes later and we wouldn’t have been able to cross them any more. Cold of being wet to our bones we had to keep on walking. Resting would have meant that we might have been very cold. So we walked about 2 hours until we reached the next hut. It was already late afternoon and they had closed because of the bad weather. But when the host saw us piteous figures he called us and let us sit down in the hut. He served us some self baked bread, butter, ham, cheese, butter-milk and a schnaps for me. This was the first time I really needed a schnaps... The host couldn’t give us dry clothes, but we felt much better after this wonderful meal in his warm room near the fireplace. We had to walk another three hours and came home to our apartment late in the evening. We have never been as happy before being back!

Larain-Valley: This is the path we walked and in the background you see the huge mountains we had to cross to the next hut in the neighbor-valley.

Larain Valley in July, the same view like the picture above

Larain Valley, upper part

Larain Valley, upper part

Back at our apartment in Galtuer (Anna), which is a wonderful village at about 1600 m NN

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Pictures: Taken by Georgia; all rights reserved