Guess Who's Going to Dinner

I greet the ancestors in the room. They seem like old friends to me now. We go down to breakfast with Peter and Christel and make the plan for the day.

Today's program for Christel and me calls for the baking of a Kuchen for the special guest from Belgium - the lady with the Neumann genealogy. She is coming for Koffee and Kuchen at about 3 p.m. Well, Christel will actually be doing the baking - I will be watching and learning from my older sister! As everyone knows by now, baking is absolutely not my forte.

David and Peter are going to shave and tidy up to meet this special guest!

I decide first thing in the morning that I have had enough of the straight hairdo I have been sporting since my arrival, and that I should spruce up a bit by curling my hair. After all, I have brought my curling iron from home and have not used it yet. So before I go to breakfast I plug the curling iron into the adapter in the wall. After breakfast I go up and begin to curl my hair. My hair is not quite dry yet, so the "fzzzzpft" sound I hear when I wind the hair around the electric curling iron is not a complete surprise. What is a surprise, when I pull the iron away, is the red hair that comes away with it!

I check the temperature of the curling iron and it is extremely hot - so hot in fact, that I probably could have burned off all my hair, and set myself on fire if I had continued any longer!!!
Not only that, I now have a red streak of hair on the left side of my head - matches Emma and Leo's hair colour. Emma and Leo are my grandchildren in Canada. Christel laughingly suggests maybe we could try for a whole red look - just joking, of course.

Well, the curling iron ist Kaput and has to go into the garbage - as soon as it cools down enough for anyone to handle it!

Christel offers to curl my hair for me with one of her curling irons. I have never had a sister who curled my hair for me. Actually, the only person who does my hair - besides me, of course - is my hairdresser. Grooming someone's hair is a very personal, intimate thing to me, and to have a sister who is willing to do this is absolutely wonderful!

Following the hair curling disaster, I dare not attempt any Kuchen Backen, as they say in the German nursery rhyme. I just watch and learn from my older sister!

The cake turns out scrumptious looking - we won't be able to try it until the afternoon coffee hour, of course. Lunch is cooked by Peter, again - another delicious meal. I suggest David take cooking lessons from Peter and I take baking lessons from Christel.

I try to pace myself with the amount of dinner - not easy when it is so good. We have the scheduled Koffee and Kuchen, and then we are invited out to dinner with Fritz-Peter and Brigitte at their favourite restaurant.

The Belgian Neumann genealogist is right on time and she and David compare Neumann notes. The connection bewteen the two Neumann genealogies is not readily apparent, although both families have their origins in the same area of Poland. They agree to continue collaborating on-line. The resemblance between Miss Neumann and David's sisters is uncanny, however!

The Kuchen is a resounding success - we can only eat half of it - the rest will be saved for another coffee hour.

We change to get ready for dinner with Fritz-Peter and Brigitte. Actually, we have no idea what the dress code will be at their favourite eating place, so try for a casual but dressy look. Of course, they come completely casually dressed....

Dinner is to be at a restaurant in the village of Dahlem - a few kilometres outside Stadtkyll. I have been looking forward to this evening. Fritz-Peter and I have been corresponding by email for the last two months. He is a newspaper reporter for the Volksfreund, and I have been reading some of his stories on line. Fritz-Peter is my nephew, Christel and Peter's oldest son. We met his wife Brigitte for the first time on the day we arrived. Both of them have been very warm and welcoming to both David and me.

While still in Canada, I viewed Fritz-Peter's website, and was impressed by the range of his talents. He is a wonderful photographer - his nature shots are exquisite - and an illustrator, with delightful cartoons, political and otherwise. And I enjoy his writing - when I can figure out all the big German words!

We park outside the restaurant - an unimposing-looking building from the outside. Stepping inside is like going back in time! It is how I imagine the pubs used to be in the olden days - a table of card players in one corner, workmen having an afterwork drink at the bar, smokey atmosphere, low light - in the other corner there are tables for dining patrons.

The owners and many customers greet Fritz-Peter and Brigitte like old friends. It is obvious they will not be at their usual table tonight. We are introduced to the owner and his wife. We settle for a table in the corner, where we can share some good food and conversation.

From time to time someone else comes over to say hello. I sit in amazement as I watch customers accompanied by their dogs come in - everyone knows everyone else. Coming from very staid southern Ontario, this is a unique experience for me.

We order a drink - Bitburg beer of course - then the meal. I ask Brigitte what she recommends as she is a regular here. I don't remember what I ordered, I only remember that it was delicious. I throw caution to the wind, and allow Fritz-Peter to order a second beer for me. Everyone who knows me, knows that one beer is usually my limit - driving or not. And after all, I am not driving! There is a challenge whether I will drink a third beer. Not being one to ignore a challenge, I allow an order for a third beer. That is absolutely my limit!

Lest you think that the evening was just eating and drinking, let me tell you that there was excellent conversation as well. While I can carry on most conversations in German, and can understand, more or less, the Stadtkyll "Platt", it is relaxing to spend the evening speaking mostly English - a chance to let my hair down --ouch, not the best analogy today!

One thing that impresses me, is Fritz-Peter's extensive knowledge of books, and music - American, English, Canadian and others. There is not an author or a singer - well, almost none - that Fritz-Peter does not know. He is an avid reader and as part of his work, he reads and corrects errors in books about to be published.

The conversation flows - we cover many topics - politics, history, literature. We come at last to the more personal. Fritz-Peter asks me what my feelings are at the end of the first week of meeting my family. I hesitate, because I do not yet know how I feel, other than it feels right to be in this place, at this time.

We talk about loss - the loss of time - which can never be replaced - in experiencing and knowing my father, my father's family, my siblings and their families. Fritz-Peter gently reminds me that the loss is not only on my side - that he and Brigitte and other members of the family have missed the many years of knowing me, David and our family back in Canada. It is a point of view I have not considered until then.

The evening has the intimate feel of being with old friends. I don't want it to end. I think maybe we have a liqueur - it's not important.

The drive back to Stadtkyll is in the dark. I see the lights of the town as we approach the cemetery, that quiet place. The view of the town at night is very special - it is the first time I have seen it like this.

Fritz-Peter and Brigitte suggest we finish off the evening at a pub not far from Christel and Peter's. They call it the Turks - it's owner is a Turkish mime.

The bar is not too full - again the dogs and owners enjoy the outing to the pub together. Fritz-Peter has done a mural in the tennis courts attached to the pub and asks if we would like to see it. I am not sure what I envision, but it is a huge illustration with cartoon -like characters in various (mostly comical) tennis poses. It fills three huge walls, and David has to back up very far to try to capture the whole image on his camera. I am delighted, indeed honoured, to be in the photo accompanied by the artist and illustrator!

We spend another hour or so talking, sharing, learning more about each other. It has been a wonderful evening. Sleep will come easily tonight.

Trip to Belgium

Another beautiful, but cool morning in the Eifel. The room with the ancestors is beginning to feel very much like home.

Over breakfast Christel shares another memory of our father. He used to sing every morning while shaving and he had a good, strong voice. I love music, so it is a very strong image for me. I wish I could have heard him sing - just once. Maybe I did, but I can't remember.

The schedule today is to do a tour through some of the Eifel region taking in part of Belgium. I ask if I should pack my passport. Just a joke, of course, as the borders between Belgium and Germany are no longer distinguished by passport controls and barriers since they are both members of the EU.

David also has a request as far as Belgium is concerned. He had connected from home with someone who has information about the Neumann genealogy from the area of Poland where his ancestors came from. He would like to see this lady, if at all possible, to see if she has any relevant information for his research. He telephones her, but she is not available to see us today. They arrange that tomorrow she will come to Stadtkyll. He takes along her address in case we go near the village where she lives.

We begin our tour in a small village in the Eifel, Reiffersheid: http://www.nordeifel.de/hellenthal/reifferscheid/reifferscheid.html . It is known mainly for its high hedges and quaint old houses. Peter points out one of the oldest houses in Germany. The unique thatched roof distinguishes it from the more modern homes in the village. David takes photos and I have to get out and stand beside a very tall hedge that would require the Davey Tree Company to come in and trim!

Peter is our guide. He has extensive experience in this, as he has been a step-on tour guide for a travel company owned by his cousin. Talk about going first class - this is great! Monschau is our first destination of note, and we follow Peter on a walking tour of this popular destination. You can find out more about Monschau from the town website. http://www.monschau.de/tourist-information

We wander through the downtown of Monschau, stopping only once to make a small purchase. Peter is always leading the way.

I am amazed that not long after leaving Monschau, we are in Belgium. There is only a sign at the side of the road to indicate that we have changed countries.

In Belgium our destination is Malmédy. It is a very beautiful city, with attractive outdoor cafés, flowering trees, old churches, and of course, the famous Belgian Pommes Frîtes. We head for a restaurant where we can sample the wares.

David orders his Pommes Frîtes with the typical Canadian salt and vinegar, which throws the waitress into a bit of a frenzy. She has to check with the chef, who, fortunately, has heard of people from strange countries who eat like this, and sends him out quite a lovely large container with vinegar to use on his French Fries. Pommes Frîtes are traditionally eaten in Belgium with mayonnaise (or mustard).

After the Pommes Frîtes, Christel, David and I spend a few minutes in the local tourist bureau. The lady in charge is very friendly, and points out a number of free booklets and brochures that point out the highlights of this region. We gather up as many as we can find that are in English, to take home to share with our family back in Canada.

Peter, our tour guide, has been pacing outside, waiting for this wayward group who are putting him behind schedule. We follow him to a wonderful old church. There is a stained glass window at the back of the church which shows the coat of arms for the city of Malmédy in the full light of the afternoon sun.

Hurrying outside, I manage to trip on a cobblestone and fall down flat. Fortunately, nothing is really hurt except maybe my pride and dignity!

Back on the road again we head out to see the protected raised Fenn area that is another noteworthy and important place. David is particularly interested in this as we have a small perched fenn in the north west part of Brantford, which is in the middle of an area being considered for development. What we see when we get to the Fenn here is absolutely amazing! No one is allowed to go into the Fenn without a special guide and then you must stay on the designated paths. And the Fenn extends almost as far as the eye can see. We are blown away!

On the return trip, we make a detour (at Peter's insistence) to see if we can find the home of the lady who is coming to see David tomorrow about the Neumann genealogy. After quite an extensive search, we finally locate it, and snap a few pictures.

We stop for Koffee and Kuchen at a famous border crossing point where there is a restaurant, museum, and gas station. Gas is less expensive in Belgium, so it is a good time to fill up. This stop was known for many years for its ease of smuggling of goods from Belgium into Germany. Christel and I go into the gift shop of the museum while Peter fills up the car with gas.

We return back to Stadtkyll and home, tired but delighted to have seen such a beautiful part of the Eifel.

Meeting Susanna or Sanni

Today is the day scheduled to drive to Prüm and meet my oldest sister, Susanna, or Sanni, as is her nickname. Sanni had a stroke about a month before we came to Germany. She is at home now, but still recovering.

We begin the day with some household chores - laundry and shopping. On the way back to Christel and Peter's, we stop at the cemetery. This is David's first visit to this quiet place, and by now, I can show him the way to the graves of the members of my family. David takes lots of photos. In one photo of my grandfather's grave, he unknowingly captures the image of both of us in the reflection off the gravestone. Just a bit spooky!

Around noon hour, the sirens of ambulances, fire trucks, as well as the firehall siren begin to wail - and continue wailing for some time. We call Fritz-Peter at the newspaper and ask what is going on. There is a major truck accident and chemical spill on the highway we were to take on the way to Prüm. The highway will be closed for some time.

Of course, that does not stop us from our planned visit to Prüm. Besides, Christel has to take Eileen to her riding lesson, which is not far from Prüm.

The detour around the accident site - and it is an extensive detour - allows us to see another part of the Eifel. I am still astounded by the many shades of green on the hillsides, and enjoy the view immensely.

We drop Eileen off at her other Oma's place, then drive to Sanni's. Sanni, and her husband, Hugo, have a lovely home overlooking the town of Prüm. Sanni comes out to meet me - it is another very emotional moment. Earlier in the month I was not sure when, or where I would meet Sanni as her recovery was not going as quickly as she had hoped. Now she walks straight and tall, and we share a very big hug!

Christel has organized that Maria and her husband, Menn, will drop by briefly so that we can take a photo of the four sisters. Maria and Christel have also not seen Sanni since her stroke, so it is a kind of reunion for all of us.

During her brief visit at Sanni's Maria tells me a short story about our father from when he was a boy. Apparently he and a friend found a dead bird. They decided that the cemetery was the appropriate place to bury it. The custom at any burial in the cemetery was that the bell in the small chapel was rung. So the boys rang the chapel bell and the people in Stadtkyll wondered who was being buried that day. When the parents found out what the boys had done, of course there was "Pech" - that lovely word again.

Christel leaves to take Eileen to her lesson and will come back to pick us up. Maria and Menn hurry home to be there when Werner comes home from work. This gives us precious time to visit alone with Hugo and Sanni.

Sanni has baked the Kuchen - and it is delicious! Hugo serves the coffee, as we look at lots of photos - hers and mine - and exchange stories from the past. Sanni tells me that she really knew nothing about me until late January of this year. She is very warm, very comfortable to be with, and I savour this moment.

We don't want to tire Sanni on this our first visit. Christel arrives take us back to Stadtkyll. Sanni will come to see us at Christel and Peter's home next week, so we will see her again.

The road is still closed, and we have another lovely long drive through the Eifel. Christel points out the remains of the defences which the German army built before the start of the second world war to try to prevent the tanks of the Allies from entering the region. It was called the West Wall, and our father had been involved in the building of the Westwall in the Stadtkyll area. The West Wall - a series of bunkers and buried concrete, anti-tank structures - turned out to be totally inadequate as a defence when the allies pushed through. You can still see stretches of the West Wall structures from the road in many places.

We stop just outside Stadtkyll at a small, private chapel where Fritz-Peter and Brigitte were married. No one seems to be caring for the chapel anymore. What a shame!

In the evening, Christel and I look at old photos. Christel shares more stories of our father at the end of the war, stories of both her mother and father. Another day rich with old stories and old memories, while we begin to create new memories for both of us.

Visit to Maria's Home

Today is the day we visit my sister Maria and her husband, Menn, in their home. The plan is that Maria will pick us up, we will do a driving tour of the countryside around Baasem, the town where they live, then go back to their house for dinner, followed by an afternoon visit.

Maria must plan her activities around her husband, Menn's, schedule of dialysis. Menn had a heart transplant about nine years ago, and in the last couple of years has also had a problem with his kidneys not working well, so he goes to dialysis three times a week. We are happy that there is a day when we can meet with both Menn and Maria to get to know them better.

The countryside around Baasem is beautiful. The rolling hills remind me a bit of parts of southern Ontario. Menn points out the airstrip from a private airport where he used to work. We drive down roads that are no wider than some of the walking trails back home. I have no fear with Maria driving. She, on the other hand, has heard that I am a bit of a nervous passenger at high speeds, and keeps asking if she is driving too fast. But after all, she is my big sister, so why should I be afraid?

On the way, Maria takes us to the small town of Kronenburg -http://www.nordeifel.de/kronenburg/kronenburg.html. Kronenburg is a beautiful town, which used to be an artists' colony in the 1930's and 1940's, and still has a number of artists living there. Since Menn is unable to walk very far, and Maria says we will be returning here on another day for a more extensive tour, we let David out to take pictures of the old castle ruins, the wonderful walled town, while we drive as far as we can into the heart of Kronenburg. I hope we can come back here once again and explore all the nooks and crannies of this delightful town.

We stop at several spots to take photos - it is a perfect spring day, with lots of sunshine. The highlight of the tour is the church in Baasem which Maria and Menn attend - the Church of St. Mariä Geburt, which was established around 1300 A.D.

We wander through the church and admire its unique architecture. The adjacent cemetery is the resting place of many of Menn's ancestors. Then we drive to Maria and Menn's home. Their house is built in the old style where the barn was attached to the house. They used to raise horses, when they were younger and in better health. Two Shetland ponies are all that is left from their farming days.

Maria gives me a tour of the house while the meal is cooking. David and Menn share a couple of drinks of cognac. It is a comfortable feeling, to be in the home of my older sister. I do not feel like a stranger at all.

In fact, Maria has probably known about me the longest of all my siblings. She was a curious pre-teen when she heard about me for the first time - probably around 1947 or 1948. She and I share that characteristic - curiosity, wanting to know.

Maria shares stories about the war time while she cooks the meal. She talks about the evacuation of her family - her mother and the five children - to the Westerwald east of the Rhein River. They were billeted in a priest's residence. They had little food - her mother scrounged in the fields for potatoes at night. She and her brother Paul would go begging for food from the families who lived in the area. It was a tough time. She said that they got a post card from our father at one point at the end of the war. It was a long time before he actually came home from the POW camp. He had lost a lot of weight and was almost unrecognizable - she described their joy at the reunion. So much sorrow, so much suffering and then so much joy!

Maria has prepared a lovely meal. We enjoy it with a glass of wine - or two. Good thing we have a while before we go home.

Marita, Maria's daughter, comes to meet us and brings her two daughters, Anne, 19 and Katrin, 15. Marita speaks some English, and we have a lovely visit alternating speaking English, then German, trying to be inclusive.

Maria waits to serve Koffee und Kuchen until Werner, her oldest son, comes home from the sheltered workshop where he works. Werner suffers from a disability similar to autism; he is extremely good with his memory of numbers and dates, but he needs some assistance with his activities of daily living. Werner lives with his parents. He has travelled a lot with them, including a trip to North America in 1992. He is curious about me, and asks lots of questions. I had spoken with Werner on the phone on his birthday earlier in the month, and it is great to finally meet him in person.

The koffee and kuchen are delicious, and I think maybe Menn and David have another small cognac! Marita and the girls drive us back to Stadtkyll to Christel and Peter's house. The girls are quiet, but very friendly. It is the end of another wonderful day.

Meeting Uncle Willi

It's Monday morning in the room with the ancestors. I am getting used to the room, the bed, the house that my father built, the quiet atmosphere early in the morning in this small town of my forefathers.
Down to breakfast with Peter and Christel. I have not yet mentioned what wonderful hosts they both are. Peter has the breakfast set each morning for us, we enjoy the morning coffee, the latest news in the Volksfreund, see if Fritz-Peter has any articles or photos in the paper - Peter always proudly points them out right away. It is as comfortable as being with friends we have known all our lives.
This is the morning Maria had planned to come for a visit. She arrives and shares a coffee. The visit is shorter than planned because we have only this morning to visit Uncle Willi, our father's youngest brother. Uncle Willi had a slight stroke about ten days ago and is going to the Rehab Clinic tomorrow.
Maria wants to know everything about me. We are still learning who we are as sisters. In fact, this whole sister experience is very new to me. I have always thought of myself as an only child. Now I am learning to be a part of a sibling group at this late stage in my life - exciting , but a little scary too.
After Maria's visit, Christel, David and I go down to Uncle Willi and Aunt Emma's house. This is one visit I have been looking forward to - yet with some apprehension. Uncle Willi has that direct connection to the time when I was in Germany as a young child, to the time when I met our father, to the time when we said good-bye and went to Canada - to that time that I cannot remember.
Uncle Willi and Aunt Emma, his wife of over sixty years, are very warm and gracious in their welcome. I search Uncle Willi's face to see if there is something that will trigger a memory. I ask politely and nervously if I can call him "Uncle Willi". His gentle, "of course," and his big hug, soothe the last of my fears.
Uncle Willi loves to tell stories. And I am listening attentively, eager to learn all I can, trying to understand the lilt of the "Platt" or dialect of the Eifel as the conversation moves from "Platt" to High German and back.
My mother spoke a Mennonite "Platt" - or low German as we called it, so most of the words in the Eifel "Platt" are familiar to me. But I have to really concentrate when everyone talks quickly or when several conversations are going on at the same time.
It is obvious that Uncle Willi loved our father deeply. His eyes fill with tears when he talks about his beloved older brother, Fritz. He gets particularly emotional when he tells of the time he saw his older brother for the first time after the war, after he came out of the POW camp. He says that Fritz was a shadow of himself, with deep sunken eyes. My eyes fill with tears as well.
Uncle Willi goes on and tells other stories of Fritz and his adventures in his youth. He tells me that if I have anything of the character of my father, my husband will have "Pech" - better known as trouble. Do I tell him that it's too late now?
I learn a lot about our father from Uncle Willi. I learn that he was boisterous in his youth - maybe even a bit on the wild side at times. He was very intelligent but because the family was poor, he could not continue his studies. He worked hard at his job as a "Strassenmeister", a job he learned working with his father; eventually he gained responsibilty for his own stretch of highway to look after and keep in good repair.
Our father was a tall, strong man with a wonderful sense of humour, a very caring heart and a strong sense of fair play.
Our father was the Mayor of Stadtkyll for ten years. There is laughter as Uncle Willi recalls the first time that Fritz put his name forward for mayor, and the shennanigans of that campaign. I think that I must share my father's outlook on election campaigns. Always organize the spontaneity. I have organized many campaigns in my past and found that philosophy produced the best results!
I ask Uncle Willi how long he has known about my existence. He tells me since 1947. More importantly, he tells me that he knows where my mother and father and I met to say good-bye before we left for Canada. In vain, I again search his face for triggers to my own memories.
Before we leave, Uncle Willi gives me a book of photos of Stadtkyll from the early 1900's on and he accepts my booklet of photos of my children and grandchildren.
As we take our leave, we walk by Uncle Willi's wall of trophies. He has entered many marathons and has won many trophies. I feel so happy and so lucky that I have met him and Aunt Emma.

We go back to Christel's where Peter has cooked us dinner. It seems that Peter makes most of the meals. He is an excellent cook, as is Christel. It's just that he really enjoys cooking, and Christel and I share a certain dislike of cooking and baking. We would probably rather read - another shared interest.
Our afternoon plan is to go to the cemetery and replant the flowers at the grave of our father and Christel's mother. The deer have been eating the pansies that Christel planted earlier in the month. After a visit to a garden centre in Junkerath, we take the plants back up and return to that quiet place overlooking the city.
It is a shared labour of love, this honouring of those who have suffered so much, by caring for their final resting place. And it is also a wonderfully bonding experience for Christel and me. We chat with the caretaker of the cemetery, we walk among all the family graves, and we visit the part of the cemetery where the soldiers are buried. Christel tells poignant stories of one or two soldiers buried there. We meet a lady who spends time caring for this part of the cemetery and we sit and talk to her while she rests for a bit.

Walking back to Christel and Peter's house, we pass Tante Maria's house and take the chance that now might be a good time to visit her. Tante Maria is another of our father's siblings. She is 94 years old, in failing health, has memory problems, and is bedridden. Her daughter welcomes us to come in. We stand at her bedside. Refering to me, Christel takes Tante Maria's face in her hands and says, "You remember our father had another child - well, this is that child." "What a lovely child," says Tante Maria. She smiles and says nothing more. What a heartwarming end to the afternoon.

There's A Church in the Valley...

"There's a Church in the Valley by the wild wood, The loveliest Church in the Dale...."

So begins a beloved song of my youth. Today is Sunday. I awake early in this room with the ancestors. There is sunshine outside my window - the rain of the previous day has gone.

Christel emailed me a couple of weeks ago that she was looking forward to the two of us going to the Church this Sunday after Easter to participate in the special services for first communion for the young people of her church.

I have been a bit anxious about this - I have never attended a first communion service in a Catholic Church before. Coming from a Mennonite Brethern, then Baptist Church background, first communion was an adult rite, celebrated after adult baptism. This will be a new experience for me, especially to attend this special service with my sister.

I ought not to have worried. Christel makes this so easy for me and so comfortable. After breakfast, we walk down to the square where the young people are gathering - girls in the white communion dresses and boys in their Sunday best suits. There is a band, and parents, friends, and Godparents are gathered to watch the procession of children go to the church, led by the priest and the band.

The church is packed to capacity - there is standing room only. Christel has known it would be like this, so she leads me to a side door and we get two seats in a pew at the back of the church. It is my first time in this church - where our father was baptized, and probably his father and back many generations. There is family history here - I take in the atmosphere - the singing of the congregation, the beautiful music of the choir, the readings from the scriptures, the sermon of the priest, and finally the communion service itself. As a non-Catholic, I cannot participate in the communion, but I can sing the songs, and watch with respect and reverance a very old tradition of this church. It is a very spiritual and special time for me. I appreciate Christel letting me share it with her.

After the service, we are off to Fritz-Peter and Brigitte's to say goodbye to Philip and Sandra whom we met yesterday. They are leaving today and this is our only chance to see them before they go. We exchange CD's - Philip gives me a CD of his band, and Sandra a CD where she is singing the songs she has composed. I give them a CD of Derek Miller, winner of the Canadian Juno award, resident of the Six Nations near Brantford, and a friend of our son, Marc. Sharing our culture is part of the experience!

The Cemetery is our next stop. This is a moment I have been thinking about for the past two months. I have seen photos of our father's grave, and now I am standing here. What are my thoughts for this father whom I have met, but can't remember? I have talked a lot to him in my mind since we have found his family. Maybe he knows that Christel and I are standing here together. He is in a quiet spot, overlooking the town that he loved. He probably has the best view in town. Christel and I spend a few minutes here - I am sure that her thoughts are also with her mother, who is resting beside him.

There are other family members buried here. Christel checks that the candles at each grave are still burning. We go to see the grave of little Sara, a foster daughter of Christian and Kiki. Sara died suddenly at a very young age. The little Easter decorations that Christel has put on her grave are poignant reminders of the season just past.

Other family members are buried here - our grandfather, Peter, Uncle Bernhard, and others...
It is a place of remembrance. Situated above the town, it is also a quiet place. I am loathe to leave.

Christel and I make our way back to her house to meet up with David and Peter. Lunch has been booked at the Yugoslavian restaurant a few doors down. How great to live in a town where you can walk to the church, to the restaurant and almost anywhere you want to.... Coming from a community where everyone drives everywhere, including the corner store, I am envious.

The restaurant is pretty full. Many families are having Sunday dinner and the food is good. The owner is very friendly - he brings us a bottle of wine to take as a gift. Peter and Christel have told him our story and he is enthusiastic about the family connecting! Besides, he has been to Canada - he used to live in Hamilton, only thirty minutes away! He insists on serving us a pear schnapps after our excellent meal. Good thing Christel and Peter live so close by - there is no need of a designated driver here!

The day is not over yet! Maria, the middle sister, cannot wait until Monday to come and see us. We have another emotional meeting! Maria and I have talked on the phone a few times, and she has written several letters to me. She has known about me for a long time - just not what my name was or where I lived.

Maria brings her husband, Menn (his nickname - everyone has nicknames around here - not sure what mine might be), and her son Werner. We are getting together tomorrow morning for another visit with Maria, so they don't stay too long. Maria is so enthusiastic, her enthusiasm is catching!

Our final part of the day is spent on a long walk. We walk to the place where our father died suddenly on May 25, 1967. He was opening a new campground - the start of what he envisioned would be a tourist attraction for visitors to Stadtkyll and would help stimulate the economy. In the middle of his speech, he dropped dead of a heart attack.

Today, this campground has grown to include cottages around the lake, a water recreation area, tennis courts, walking trails, and much more. It is obvious that our father was a man of vision - way ahead of his time in terms of tourism as part of the economy.

We stand where our father died. And we walk in the woods above the dammed up lake. A lovely way to end a Sunday - the first Sunday spent with my newly-found family.

Meeting for the First Time

My resolve to stay in Charly's car is gone in a second! My sister Christel runs down the steps to greet me and we both share a very emotional meeting - Christel crying and me telling her not to cry! There are cameras popping all around, first from Jan, Christel's son-in-law and Iris's husband, then David, then after big hugs, Fritz-Peter , Christel's son, as he and his wife Brigitte come up the drive, and finally, Charly still running the movie camera.

In the excitement, Lillie, Christel's one-year old grandaughter, falls on the stairs. As we all troop in to check on her, and meet Iris, Charlotte (Lillie's sister), Eileen (another grandaughter) and Peter (Christel's husband), we forget all about Charly's mom still in the back seat of the car. Charly gets his mom out and continues filming!

In the house, Charlotte is sitting, ready for coffee and wondering what all the excitement is about. It is an wonderful moment - a joyful meeting for the first time - a curious moment as we all search each other's faces to see the people we have been reading about, talking to and emailing, for the first time. And it is also bitter sweet, as we think of the people who have brought us to this point, and what the circumstances of their lives were at the time when this all started so long ago.

Christel and I share a few minutes of reflection when she shows me to the room we will be staying in for the two weeks of our visit to the Eifel. This is emotional for both of us. The photos of the ancestors on the bedroom walls remind me that the family history is a long one and that I have only just begun my small part in that history.

After the traditional coffee and Kuchen, during which Eileen plays on the piano, we all get in the cars and drive to Christian and Brigitte's (AKA Kiki's) house for dinner. Christian and Kiki have five great kids - Olivia, Vincent, Carlos, Eileen and Magdalena. Their home is on a large hill overlooking Stadtkyll - you get a great view of the church in the distance from their back yard. Christian and Kiki are warm, gracious hosts who have the perfect party house.

After another round of introductions and lots of hugs, Brigitte brings out the champagne. It is absolutely the best and most welcome champagne I have had and it is perfect for that moment. I discover the piano in the corner. Music has always helped me to find calm, and I find that calm this day with my favourite hymn, "Amazing Grace". It seems appropriate.

Kiki has prepared a wonderful meal. What a great group - I am amazed that it is so easy to feel a part of this warm and obviously affectionate family! Philip, Brigitte and Fritz-Peter's son, and his girlfriend Sandra, arrive a little later, and are just as warm and comfortable to be with as everyone else. After dinner Charly entertains with a few songs on the piano, Christel and Peter share a dance, and the rest of us talk, or listen as we get to know one another or reflect on the day.

Soon it is time to go - Jan and Iris and the girls back to Cologne, Charly and his mother back to her house several hours drive away, and the rest of us back to homes in Stadtkyll. Christel, Peter, David and I spend a long time talking - I tell my story, Christel shares her memories of her mother and father. As I get a more rounded picture of my father (now really our father, I say for the first time), I get the strong impression of a vital, strong, caring and sometimes very complicated man.

Then it is time to go and sleep with the ancestors guarding on the bedroom walls.