Life is beautiful
No matter what!
Copyright © 2011 by Jayne Ruf Cloutier
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.
For information please contact
www.JayneCloutier.com
or al@worldclassproductionz.com
World Class Press
First Edition
A note to the Reader
As I wrote this book, I realized just how much my grandmother's advice throughout my childhood influenced my life. She helped me to overcome all my challenges, and showed me how to find my way to become a successful and happy woman.
I have dedicated this book to my grandmother Gerda Lippke, which gave me her unconditionally love. I also want to say thank you to my friends Vidal Demonti, Kimo “James" Makua, and Daniel Sieber. Many times in my life their friendship helped me to keep my balance.
I thank the Universe for bringing me Al to be my life partner, my husband, my friend, and my lover; he is everything to me (including editor on this book). He has truly touched my soul with his love.
Life is beautiful
No matter what!
by Jayne Ruf Cloutier
Chapter 1
Nice music comes out of a small café in middle of Zurich, Switzerland. It is still early, and only a few people are on the street. Above the café are several small apartments on five floors. The building is not special, but it is clean, and does not cost an arm and a leg to live there. On the third floor lives a young couple. Their names are Gisa and Walo (short for Walter). She is a young beautiful woman with light blond hair, sky blue eyes, and she is pregnant. Walter is a very handsome man. He is tall, has jet-black hair, almost black eyes, beautiful olive skin, and has a charming smile.
This
morning is different, something is happening. Walo runs out of the
apartment, and down to the second floor, to use the pay phone. He
puts in two coins, and starts dialing a number, when he realizes that
the phone is dead. He turns around, and runs up the stairs to the
fourth floor where the other pay phone is located. He is so nervous
and has a hard time
putting
his last two coins in, and dials the number for the cab. Finally
someone answers.
“City cab, good morning, how can I help you?”
“Yes hi. I mean hello. Good morning. I need a cab immediately. My wife is pregnant, and we have to go to the hospital.”
In that moment the coin falls down, and the connection breaks up. He slams the phone against the wall, because he is out of change to feed the pay phone.
He runs down the stairs to the third floor, and hears Gisa screaming, and calling after him. He goes into the bedroom, stops next to the bed, and holds her hand in shock. The clock shows 9:03 when Gisela gives birth to a little girl. She is so small, so tiny like a doll. Walo doesn’t care about the blood on the sheets; he only sees that little bundle of joy. “I am a father!”
One of the neighbors from the fourth floor drives the young parents and the baby to the hospital. Gisa and the baby are getting all the attention from the nurse and the doctor, and as Walter sits in the waiting room, he thinks about Gisa’s family, his family and how they met.
Gisa was born in Sweden, and she had three siblings. Walter was the oldest brother, the next brother was Horst, and two years younger than Gisa was Detlef. Her parents were relatively wealthy before World War II. They owned a big farm in North Eastern Germany. Her father was originally from Kaliningrad (Russia) and moved with his family to Germany when he was a teenager. Her mother was from Sweden, but her family members and friends now lived in Germany.
Every Saturday evening there was a dance event in the Library. When her mother Gerda turned fourteen, she was allowed to go to this dance event for the first time. She was so excited. It was the first time that she wore a long gown and high heels. That evening Gerda met the love of her life, which was a very proud young man (24 years old), named Egon. He knew from the first moment he saw her, that she was the one. They got married just a few months later.
Gisa’s parents had big dreams and worked very hard on their farm. They were the only ones within a distance of 40 miles who owned a car and a truck. They were very successful growing vegetables, fruits and flowers, which he sold in the next bigger city on the market. After a few years they had almost one hundred employees. That was quite impressive in the early 1930’s.
Her father built a beautiful home for his family. He installed central heating and electricity in the whole house, and built a wonderful winter garden. He was open minded and interested in every new invention. The house was surrounded by a beautiful garden, and on the back side of the house was a big fresh water pond.
On the farm were also lots of animals like; geese, rabbits, chickens, ducks, cats and dogs. Gisa loved to play with all of them, especially with the baby geese. One day, her mother called her:
“Gisa, come in the house, dinner is ready. You can play tomorrow. “She had to call her twice until Gisa finally came to the house. Her mother asked: “What kept you so long? “
Gisa said: “Well, I put the baby geese to sleep. “
“What do you mean by sleep? What did you do with the baby geese?”
“I just laid them down that they can sleep. “
Her mother became alarmed and ran to the barn. When she opened the door, she saw all the geese lying on the floor, half covered with straw...dead. Gisa had grabbed them by the neck, and forced them to lie down. She held them around their necks until they stopped wiggling around. In her mind they were sleeping. When her mother explained to her what she did, she was very sad and started crying. This experience changed Gisa’s relationship to animals. She never again wanted an animal or a pet around her.
When World War II started, her parents were very concerned about their family members and friends. Some of their employees were Jewish, which was against the German law according to Adolf Hitler. At one point during the war, the Nazis worked their way up to where they lived. Hitler's army robbed and killed everyone, they also robbed Gisa’s parent’s farm. When the Nazis had discovered that her parents employed Jews, they took Gisa, her mother and her siblings and put them in a concentration camp. Her father was forced to work at the train station where he was told his duty was to put Jews in the trains, which were to bring them to the concentration camps to be killed. He initially refused, but after a Nazi shot him in the elbow and threatened to kill his wife and their children ... he had no choice, and he had to do what they wanted.
While his wife and children were in the concentration camp. His wife had to sew uniforms for the Nazis, in order to get food for the kids. Sometimes she would cut off the inside seams of the uniforms, and make little quilts out of them. Then she traded the quilts for food stamps, and then the food stamps for information, to find out where her husband was stationed.
After almost five months in the concentration camp, she found out that she was pregnant. Detlef, Gisa’s youngest brother, was born in the concentration camp. It was a hard time for all of them.
But one day a Nazi, who happened to be a former employee of Gisa’s parents, recognized her mother. He stole a military truck in the night, and helped her mother, and her siblings to flee. The oldest son, Walter, was the last one to jump on the truck, and when a guard saw what was happening, Walter was shot several times. Gisa’s mother had to leave her dead son’s body behind to save her other children.
The former employee helped them drive to Dresden to friends of her father. Her mother knew that her husband had hidden money in different places all over Germany. She traveled with the kids closer to Koeln, where she found an empty part of a damaged house. She settled in with her kids, and started a makeshift foster home for kids, who had lost their parents in the war. She organized food, clothing, and volunteers to help find any surviving family members of the orphans.
At times, Gisa’s mother had over thirty children to take care of, but she loved it.
After the war ended, Gisa’s mother went every day to the main train station, to wait for her husband to come back. It took several months, until finally one day he stepped out of the train. She was so happy, that she couldn’t move. She was standing there, with tears running down her cheeks, all three kids next to her. That was the happiest moment in her life, when her husband took her face in his hands, and kissed her over and over again. Gisa’s family stayed in Germany, and started a new life after the war. Her father helped in construction to rebuild the City, and her mother was a teacher for young ladies. Her brother Horst stayed with his parents, and became an engineer and engine specialist. Her brother Detlef changed his name to Clifford, and moved to New York. Gisa became a fashion model, and traveled around the world, from one photo shoot to another.
Walo’s story is different, but also challenged by the World War II. He was born as an only child in St. Gallen, Switzerland. His father Ernst was Swiss, and his mother Maria was Italian. They lived in a nice house. His grandparents lived in a very nice house with multiple floors in the middle of the city St. Gallen. On the first floor was a nice restaurant. On the second floor lived a nice couple, and Walo’s grandparents lived on the third, and fourth floors.
During the World War II, Switzerland managed to keep a stance of armed neutrality, and was not involved in any militarily activities. However, in beginning of 1945, the Allied Army “mistakenly” dropped a few bombs by the Swiss border. One of the bombs destroyed the house where Walo lived. His father was in the Swiss Army blocking the borders to Germany, and Walo was with his grandparents, and his mother was outside close by the house. After the bombing his mother was nowhere to be found. As a result Walo was raised by his grandparents. After World War II, the authorities declared his mother as dead. His father started a new life and married a nurse he’d met during the war.
It was quite a shock for everyone, when almost six years later Walo’s birth mother knocked at the door. Her story was that she had gotten hit by the bombing, and lost her memory. Somebody brought her to the hospital as a Jane Doe. Later in a rehabilitation facility she became friends with a man from Australia, moved and lived with him in Australia, until she had a car accident, and got her memory back. As it ended up, Walo’s father stayed with his new wife, and Walo stayed with his grandparents. His mother felt lost, and eventually became a member of a religious group where she felt comfortable and welcome.
Walo always loved music, and was an extremely talented piano student. He earned his first music diploma when he was eight, and showed his talent in several concerts. Walo was a perfectionist, and earned every music diploma you can have, but he never finished the diploma as conductor. When he was only fourteen years old, his grandparents forced him to become a St. Galler lace specialist. It was, in those days, an honorable job, which had a bright future in the fashion industry. He did what he was told, and his diploma work was the lace design, for the wedding dress, for the bride of the Shah of Persia. However, after Walter graduated, he started his own band, which performed as musicians in dance clubs all over Switzerland. Walo was six feet tall, had a beautiful voice and the ladies loved him.
In 1959, Gisa was working as a model on the catwalk in Zurich. One evening she went with the other models to go dancing at a dance club. Walo happened to be performing with his band "The Valentinos" in the same club that night. From the moment Gisa walked in that night, Walo saw her and he fell in love with her at first sight. She was striking to say the least – a blond haired beauty, with bright shining blue eyes, a great body, and big boobs. Often people said she looked like Jayne Mansfield.
Walo and Gisa knew each other only for two months, when he popped the question. He was only 19 years old and she was 23. Although Walter loved and adored her, Gisa married him only in defiance against her family. Her parents thought she would marry their neighbor’s son, who happened to be a millionaire. Gisa had known him from childhood, and liked him very much, but she didn’t want to do what her parents wanted. She packed her stuff, ran away from home, worked and traveled around the world working as a model. And when she met Walo, she saw the best opportunity to get back at her parents by getting married to a poor musician. Many years later she said that it wasn’t love of first sight for her, but rather that she just liked Walo. The love came within the years of being married to him. But Walo was so in love with her that he didn’t see that. He was so happy, and wanted to start a family with her. His biggest wish was, to have a baby girl, a nice home, and to be happily married. He didn’t know that Gisa never wanted children. He also didn’t know that she had several abortions before she met him. In her late teenage years, she went several times with her mother secretly in the night to a doctor, so that no one else knew about the abortions.
Gisa
and Walo got married, and got pregnant. Unfortunately she lost three
babies in a row to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Finally, she was
pregnant again – this time with a baby girl.
On a nice sunny morning, Walo (my father) is sitting in the hospital room next to the bed, looking at Gisa, his wife (my mother) and me (the new born).
The doctor is explaining to my father, that I am a little too small for a new born, but I will be fine. As it turns out, my mother was afraid to lose her great figure as a model, so she decided not to eat very much during the pregnancy. I still have a photo, which my father took just one week before I was born, and you don’t see a baby bump at all. It doesn’t matter, I am here now, and my father seems pretty happy about it.
I am just three weeks old, and my mother recognized that she and my dad are traveling a lot, and they have no time for a baby. So, my mother calls the airline, hires a flight attendant, who should deliver me in a baby bag to my grandmother (Gerda) and my grandfather (Egon) in Germany. That will be a shock, because my mother didn’t inform my grandmother that I will be arriving. Surprise!
Today, I have to admit, that that was the best thing that my mother ever did for me!
I am living with my grandparents, and with my uncle Horst in a nice apartment between Köln and Düsseldorf. It’s only a couple months before my second birthday. My grandmother is standing in the kitchen ironing the shirts, and I am sitting on the floor next to the ironing board playing with my toys. All of a sudden it is so quiet. My grandmother leans over the ironing board to see why I am so quiet, and that’s when she screams.
I am lying on the floor, my skin slightly blue-gray, and I am not breathing. She lifts up my lifeless body, puts me in a baby blanket, and runs out the door. The hospital is luckily only two blocks down the street. She runs as fast as she can into the ER, and calls for assistance. I had already fallen into a coma, and was immediately receiving life-support.
After many check ups, blood tests, x-rays, and other investigations, the report said: it was almost death by SIDS. I am alive, but in a coma, and it is a nightmare for my grandparents. My grandmother organizes a room with a second bed in the hospital, so she can stay with me when ever she wants. Finally I open my eyes almost two years later. In just three months I will be four years old, but I can only move my body like a new born baby. I cannot say a word, but it is one of the happiest days for my grandparents.
I have to stay at the hospital for therapy for another half a year. I learn to walk, to talk, to eat, everything I missed in the last two years. Sometimes I am a little tormenting spirit, but my grandmother is so patient with me, and always calms me down. She is truly my guardian angel in every way, and I am infinitely grateful to my grandmother. All the bills for the hospital, the doctors, the medications, the tests, everything to help me getting better, is paid by my grandparents. Why? Because, my parents are musicians, and they are never around. And because of their traveling, and not having a real home, they have no insurance.
After this challenge of learning, I’ve already turned five, and we are going on a trip; my first visit to my parents in Switzerland. It is a big adventure for me to see my parents after such a long time. I know from my grandparents, that my parents are traveling musicians. We drive up to the Alps, where my parents have a five-month contract in a big Hotel. I tell you, it is pretty cool to see my parents standing on that stage, with all the fancy lights, and sparkling costumes on. They sing and play different instruments, and the tourists are swinging to the beat on the dance floor. It is incredible; I had never seen something like that before. And hey, these are my parents up there on the stage.
Later, I hear from my grandparents, that my parents are always booked out for almost four years in advance. At this point in my life, I am proud to have such successful musicians as parents. Well, my parents owned a big two bedroom house in Switzerland, but they hardly lived there, because of their work. So my grandparents decided to stay for a while with me, because it is time for me to go to Kindergarten.
I love going to Kindergarten. It is so much fun to play with all this kids, and the teacher, oh boy; she looks like a fairy-tale figure called Snow-white. She is tall, has beautiful green eyes, full lips, and long wavy black hair.
There
are five kids, including me, playing around the teacher’s desk. All
of a sudden somebody pushes against the desk, and the nice flower
vase falls down onto the floor. It breaks into small glass pieces. It
is immediately quiet and we dare
not
to move.
The teacher looks at us, and she is so upset. As punishment, we have to remain in the classroom longer than the rest of the children. Actually, at first, that didn’t sound so bad, because the other kids had to go home, and we could stay and play longer with all the toys. After a short time, she explains to us, that she has to make some purchases in the grocery store, but she will be back as soon as possible. She takes her purse, her coat, and steps out the door, and locks the door from outside. We are playing games, having fun, and not worried at all.
I can’t remember how long she is gone, but some of us are getting tired, and hungry, and thirsty. So we drink water from the sink. The bad thing is, there is no restroom inside this playroom. The restroom is outside in the hallway, and our door is locked.
We are getting inventive, empty a bucket with wooden toys, and use it as a toilet. I have the feeling that the daylight is not so bright anymore. I climb onto the desk to see outside the windows. And it appears it’s getting darker and darker outside. I step down, and switch on the light in the room. Thank goodness, the maintenance guy lived right next to the school, and he sees the light switched on in the playroom. He comes over to the building, to check out why the light is on. And then he sees us in there, tired, hungry, and in tears.
I am so relieved when my grandparents come and take me in their arms. All the parents have a meeting with the school director. The Kindergarten teacher has to go to court, and she loses her teacher license forever. Justice is served!
My parents have a break for a few days. And today, my parents, my grandparents and I, we all hop in the car and drive off to a new adventure. My dad parks the car and walk over to a huge circus tent. It is still winter and pretty breezy and cold. I’m wearing my black shiny shoes, white stockings, my black velvet dress, and my red coat. It is so exciting, and I am nervous, and curious.
We arrive at the entrance of the tent. A clown stands there and holds back the curtain to let us in. He has a big smile on his face with a huge red nose. His hands are covered in white gloves, and he wears red socks. His feet are in enormous big long shoes. When I enter the tent there is a whole new world in front of me. I have the feeling I am Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz”. The atmosphere is stunning, and I forget everything around me. All these artists, attractions, animals, the music, the lightshow; it is jaw-dropping and breathtaking. This is an unforgettable adventure. Not only because of the circus, because my parents are with me.
My grandparents go back to Germany, and I have to stay here with my parents for a little while. Hopefully I will get to know them better. Our normal daily course of action is: We get up at six o’clock, have some toast for breakfast, and leave the house at seven o’clock. My parents go to work; I have to go to school, because I am a first grader now. I come home for lunch time to an empty house; eat toast, some fruits or yoghurt. Then I go back to school until late afternoon. My parents come back home around five o’clock in the evening, and that’s when the stress starts. My mother runs around in the kitchen, and tries to cook something for dinner as fast as she can. During her cooking, my father is upstairs taking a shower, shaving and getting dressed. We spend exactly twenty minutes together eating dinner. Afterwards my mother goes upstairs to get ready. In that time, my father cleans the kitchen, and I am allowed to watch a kids show on TV. At seven-thirty pm at the latest, they have to leave for their job as musicians. I always run through the kitchen, the open patio door, over the patio to the fence, which is facing the street. Then I am waving to them, when they pass in the car. Afterwards I go back in the house, lock all the doors and windows. Welcome to “Home Alone”.
Usually I go up to my room making some drawings or some crafts. It is a good way to distract myself from having fear being alone in that house, or feeling lonely.
Mostly around two or three o’clock in the night I wake up. That’s usually the time when my parents come home. Often they bring friends and guests over for partying in the basement until into the early morning hours. It is the early ‘70s; alcohol and loud music from the Beatles, Elvis Presley and Jerry Lee Lewis are hip.
Once in a while, I sneak down the stairs to the basement to watch them laughing, drinking, dancing and having fun. Now and then my father catches me, takes me in his arms and brings me back to bed. But most of the time, nobody sees me sitting there on the stairs. Sometimes I have the feeling that my parents live in one world, and I am in a totally other world at home. I mean, they are here, just a few yards away, but at the same time, they are so far away. It seems mostly that they are unreachable for me.
Chapter 2
My grandparents and I travel back and forth between Switzerland and Germany. On one hand it is fun, adventurous, and challenging. On the other hand, I never really feel at home either in Switzerland or in Germany. Of course, it is much better here in Germany. I have a real family life with my grandparents and my uncle Horst, but still something is missing in my heart and my soul.
Early in the morning I hear the sound of the bell. It is the van from the bakery with fresh warm bread and rolls in different shapes. Oh, I tell you the smell of oven fresh bread is so yummy. My grandmother gives me money, and I run down to the van to buy a loaf of bread called “Stuten”. It has a smooth, brown crust on the outside, and is fluffy, soft and slightly sweet inside. I take the bread in my arms and almost fly back into the kitchen. I take a knife and cut the end off about two inches, that is the best part. The bread is still warm inside, and the butter just melts away. My grandmother watches me with a big grin, and she gives me the other end of the bread too. Today, when I close my eyes, I still can smell that tasty, sweet bread.
February 25th is my grandmother’s birthday. She gets from grandpa a new high pressure cooking pot. It is one of the newest inventions on the market. She loves to cook, and is very impressed about that new pot. She reads all the instructions and tries it out. It is amazing how fast the potatoes are cooked. So, she tries every day to cook something else with that pot. The mail comes, and my grandpa has to sign for a package, so he has to go down to the first floor, and I am of course very nosy, and follow him. My grandmother is cooking lunch in the kitchen, and we can hear her singing through the half open kitchen window. I am all excited about the package, as we hear a big bang, glass splinters fly all over, and the high pressure cooking pot flies out onto the street. We all look in shock - what just happened? My grandpa and I run up the stairs, into the apartment, into the kitchen, and there is grandma standing next to the stove. Shocked with wide open eyes, and covered all over with vegetable soup. I look around, and see that the whole kitchen; the walls, the table, the chairs, the counter, everything is covered with vegetable soup. My grandfather hugs my grandma to comfort her, and then we are just standing there laughing.
Well, my grandpa has immediately a new project, the kitchen renovation. And my grandmother goes to the store to find out what happened with the pot. If you want to know, it was the valve. My grandma didn’t know that she had to clean the valve after cooking. So after a while it was blocked, and the high pressure could not go anywhere, and it blew the lid off, and the pot just flew out the window. She got a valve replacement, and was happy again in the newly renovated kitchen.
Today, August 9th it’s my birthday, and I get a dollhouse and my own little iron for my doll’s clothes. Of course my iron has no plug in cord, but it is made out of metal. After my grandma washes all the doll cloth, I am pretending to iron it. This is not working as well as when my grandmother uses her iron. That when it came to me, my iron has to be hot! So, I put my iron on the top lid of the wood fueled oven (antique European heating oven) in the living room. I watched many times, how my grandmother puts her finger tip quickly on the iron, to check if it is hot enough. Well I can do that too, I am just not so quick, and burn my fingertip really badly. And of course, I let the hot iron fall down onto the carpet, and it melts nicely in. It never is boring around me; I always find something to try out. Not always the best ideas of course. And sometimes my grandparents are not laughing.
Back in Switzerland, I go to school with my “boyfriend”. His name is Marcel, and he lives at the end of our street with his parents, and his seven siblings. I think Marcel is cute, and we walk hand in hand to school. One day, we come back from school, and we meet the new neighbors in our street. It is a young couple with their only child – a boy. He is four years old, and that’s two years younger than we are. What a spoiled brat he is, very selfish, arrogant, and two-faced. Two weeks later, he celebrates his birthday. His father gives him a brand new sparkling shiny go-cart. It is a really fancy one, and we all are a little jealous. However, he wants to play with us, and is showing off his new go-cart. We ignore him until he offers each of us a ride with his new shiny fancy go-cart. Well, that is tempting, and what the heck – why not!? It sounds good to all of us.
So, my boyfriend Marcel has the first ride, Susanne gets the second ride, and then it is my turn. I make myself comfortable in the seat, and start driving down the parking lot, when his father stands in my way, and stops my ride abruptly. “This is my turn, your son promised me.” He answers: “I don’t think so. I bet you stole that go-cart from my son!” I can’t believe it, and I have really hurt feelings. I get up with big Donald Duck lips, turn my back to Mr. Meier, and in that moment I feel an awful pain above my ear, and I hear him yelling: “Don’t you dare steal from my son, and turn your back to me when I’m talking to you!” The pain is so bad, that I see little stars dancing in front of my eyes, and then I see the blood dripping on my t-shirt, my shoes, and the parking lot.
The other kids see everything and run away screaming for help. Mr. Meier’s grip loosens up, and I run across the street into the arms of my grandmother. Tears run down my hot face, and blood is everywhere. Can you believe this? He ripped out a patch of my scalp above my left ear.
My grandfather comes out of the garage, sees what happened, and runs over to Mr. Meier and punches him in his face. After that, we drive to the doctor, and I need several stitches. I am not sure what was going on later, but the family Meier sold their house, and moved away just a few weeks later.
My grandmother tells me that it might be better to bring my play friends home, so they can meet them, and keep an eye on everything. It made sense to me, and I promised to do that in the future.
Every Wednesday afternoon, I go to a farm owned by a friend of my parents, to hang out with all their kids and pets. It is so cool, and so much fun. They have a big kitchen window, which is facing the huge chicken coop. One of their kids shows me how to get into the coop to get the fresh eggs. It is so exciting. They have so many little baby chickens, oh and they are so yellow, fluffy and soft. We girls have to wear aprons. My apron has big bags in the front for my napkins, or candies, or whatever I want to keep in there.
So, I am standing in that coop surrounded by approximately twenty chicks. And I play with them, and remember my promise to my grandparents. So I take all the chicks and stuff them in the front pocket of my apron, go back into the kitchen and walk home. At home in my room, I let all the chicks run around on my bed. They are so cute, with their little feet and little beaks. In that moment the door swings open and my grandmother stands there with big eyes. ”What are you doing? Where did you get all these chicks? Why are they here in your room?” I answer very proudly: “Well grandma, you said I should bring my friends at home that you can meet them. I remember that I promised you that I would do that, and these are my little friends from the farm.”
She looks a bit puzzled, and answers: “Does the farmer knows about that? Did you ask him if you can take them home? I guess not.” I was not sure what I did wrong, but it seems as if it was not a good idea to bring the chicks home. I hear my grandmother on the phone saying: “I am so sorry about that. Of course we will bring them back immediately. She didn’t know. If she would have known, she never would have done it. I am sure about that. She just loves animals. Ok, we will see you soon.”
My grandfather comes in my room, and is just laughing. He helps me to catch all of them and we put them in a cardboard box with a lid and bring them back to the farmer. At first, the farmer is a bit upset; I apologize and try to explain why I did it. After he hears my explanation, he starts smiling at me and tells me that I’m always welcome on his farm.
It is beginning of summer, and school vacation just started. My grandparents went back to Germany last week, and I follow by airplane a bit later. My parents have a basement in the house, which is very spacious. You come down the stairs and straight ahead is a big bar for parties and entertaining, and on the left side are the laundry and storage rooms. On the right side is a big pantry. I hear that my parents have plans for a big party, and they bought nice goodies for that reason. I saw several cases of Crème Brulee in the pantry. After my parents leave the house, Marcel and I sneak in the pantry, and we have a little eating competition. I am always a very competitive person. Marcel gives up after eating forty Crème Brulee. I win after eating forty-two Crème Brulee. We both have bad belly aches. I remember that I was throwing up the whole night afterwards. I don't think that I will eat Crème Brulee ever again in my life.
The summer is almost over, and my parents have a little work break. My scalp healed nicely, and the leaves start changing colors. Nature is so beautiful in all its different vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow. I compare nature to our neighbor’s car. In summer, the car was painted brown, then they had it painted and now, it is boring, plain white. I like colors and patterns, and I like to draw. So, I decide to take a piece of a broken branch, and start scratching a magnificent work of art on the neighbor’s newly painted white car. I am finished after half an hour, and it looks amazing to my eyes. I have scratched a nice house, with a fence, and a tree, a garden with flowers, birds, and even my signature. What a nice piece of art, and I did it.
Too bad, our neighbor, Mr. Mueller, doesn’t like my art. Just twenty minutes later, he knocks on our door, and my father listens to him. Mr. Mueller is outraged. His face turns really red, and I think he is very upset. I mean really upset, if you know what I am talking about. My father closes the door. He calls me, and asks me about my art work. Of course I did that. I am admitting doing it, because I am proud of it. Oh, oh, not good! My dad gets mad, and forces me to go with him to our neighbor, to apologize. I don’t really get it, but I apologize, and I am grounded for the next two weeks. I think that is so unfair.
I have to be inside the house for 14 days, and I am not allowed to go and play with the other kids. But there is one kid from the same street, who comes to our house to play with me. And my father is fine with that. So, we play in the front of the garage with a ball. Then we find a cool looking big stone in the rose garden on the side. My friend says that he has to lift it up, because I’m a girl, and girls are not strong enough to do that. I answer: “What a bull shit! I can do that, you will see, I’ll show you!” I push him out of my way, grab the stone with both hands, and throw it over my shoulder. Bang!!! I turn around, and see that the stone fell into the open hood, onto the running motor, of my father’s Cadillac. The motor stops running with some bad noises, and there is my father. He walks out of the garage with a really mad face. And I know; I am in trouble.
There is only one thing I can do – RUN! I run as fast as I can around the house, into our garden. There is an old wooden wheel with flowers, so I run around that wheel. I look over my shoulder; damn, my father is still behind me, yelling and cussing. He slips on the wet grass, and lands on his belly. When I see that, I stop and laugh. I am so bad. But as he jumps back on his feet, I turn around and run to the front door, up the few steps, heading right to the guest bath, and try to close the door before my father can catch me.
Good plan, but it doesn’t work out. The floor mat is stuck in the door, and I can’t close it. My father gets closer and closer with every step. And I try really hard to close that door. His arm reaches out, grabs my arm and he pulls me out of the bathroom. Oh boy; he spanks me so hard on my bare butt that I can’t sit on it for the next few days. The good thing, my father’s Cadillac got fixed and runs smoothly again.
I am in Switzerland for another month, and then I will go back to Germany to my grandparents and my uncle. I am very excited, because my parents have another short work break during daytime. Just too bad, I really don’t see much of them. They are mostly gone all day, and in the evening they still busy working as professional musicians, or have parties in the basement, or go out. I have the feeling they really don't care about me. And if they do, they have an awkward way to show it.
It is already dark outside, my parents left an hour ago, and I am still awake in bed. Finally I fall asleep, until I hear some strange water dripping sound. I open my eyes, and I listen. It is raining outside; no, actually it is pouring down! But still, there is that dripping sound. I get out of bed, open the door to the hallway. I see nothing. I walk down the stairs, and there it is. From the roof of the attached garage, rain water is coming inside through the window, and flowing like a waterfall down the stairs into the living room. Believe it or not, but I am pretty smart for my age. I remember how the construction workers sealed the windows with caulking and silicon. So, I take my bucket with my play dough, and start sealing the window. And it works. My parents come home around three o’clock in the morning, the window is completely sealed, and not a drop of water comes in. I show my father what I did, and he is really impressed. My mother doesn’t have any comment, except:” You should be asleep at this time.” Oh well, that’s my mother.
After I stayed two months with my grandparents in Germany, I fly back to Switzerland to stay for another month with my parents. It’s autumn and it is another typical rainy day. Some kids from the neighborhood and I play outside in the rain. We are all wearing yellow raincoats, and yellow plastic rain boots. Our street is uneven in the middle, so when it rains a lot, we have a huge water puddle. Marcel, Susanne and I, we run around that puddle, and try to catch each other. Marcel is a pretty fast runner, and comes closer and closer to me. And then it’s too late! His foot comes somehow between my feet, and I fall hard. Our street doesn’t have a smooth pavement; it has some kind of bigger gravel stones. So, when I fall slightly backwards on my face, the pain is almost unbearable. It hurt so badly, my face is hurting, my hands, and my knees too.
My friends help me back onto my feet, and look pretty shocked. I am just crying, and walk slowly in pain to our house. My mother opens the door, and looks shocked as well. What the hell is going on here? She is just holding my bloody hand, and calls my father. He comes from the living room, and looks also shocked. Now that is not a good sign. It must be really bad. I release myself from my mother’s hand, and walk over to the big mirror by the door. I see not me. What I see is a dirty monster with gravel stones sticking in the skin. That is so awful. And my hands! Oh my god. I just see blood all over. My yellow raincoat is dripping blood. I look out the open front door, and the kids are just screaming, and running away. I have turned into a monster.
In that moment, my father takes his jacket, lifts me up in his arms, and put me in the car. We drive to the hospital in the next City. My mother called them already, so they are waiting for us. I am sitting here, with the jitters all over. The nurse helps me out of my rain coat, and tries to get my hair out of my face. The doctor enters the room, and that’s when it gets worse. The doctor, the nurse and my dad are holding me down, and a second doctor comes in the room, and gives me a shot with a huge needle. I was already in pain when we arrived, and now they hurting me even more! That’s enough. I am yelling, and screaming, and crying, and try to kick them with my feet. After a few minutes I feel a bit better. The pain somehow is not so bad anymore, and the doctor speaks nice and calmly with me. He pulls away the loose skin strips, and stitches up all the holes from the gravel stones. Now I feel like Frankenstein's monster. To help the skin to grow back, they spray some slightly green cooling gel on my face. It is a good feeling. The pain is very mild, and the cooling effect from that stuff feels good.
It takes almost three weeks, until the stitches are healed enough, that I can travel back to my grandparents. I still have some of the little scars on my face, but I have to say, the doctor did a pretty good job.
Chapter 3
Back in Germany, my grandparents found a house in Düsseldorf. It is a nice house from the outside, but inside…it needs a lot of work. We walk through the house, and there are holes through the walls, holes in the ceiling, and in the floors. You have to be very careful where you are walking. But my grandpa and my uncle, they see the potential in this house, and start renovating the whole thing. They put in new flooring, fix all the walls, paint, and put nice wallpaper up in every room, install a brand new kitchen, and install two bathrooms. The house has a huge basement. There is a big hobby- and crafts room on one side, a laundry room, and a huge pantry on the other side, and a little sitting area underneath the stairs. The stairs from the basement bring you up to the first floor in the guest bathroom. On your left is the kitchen, and next to it is the entrance to the living room. The family room, the dining room, and the entrance hall are on your right. When you come into the entrance hall, you walk up the stairs to the master bedroom, the big bathroom, a half bathroom, and my uncle’s bedroom. It has also an attic, but the roof isn’t high enough to use it as a studio, so we use it just for storage.
The front yard is small with nice flowers to either side of the stairs. But the back yard is very nice and spacious with a little porch against the house wall. It has a big grass area surrounded with beautiful flowers, and it has different fruit trees on one side to give shade in the summer.
I sleep in a twin-sized bed in front of my grandparents’ king-sized bed in the master bedroom. During daytime I am mostly outside in the back yard, or I play in the family room. This house is so cozy, and it always feels very warm and inviting.
The days are getting shorter, the temperatures are dropping below zero degrees, and winter is here. My grandmother and I are baking Christmas cookies. It is so much fun. It starts snowing, and it’s only a few days before Christmas. We have a very big Norway spruce in the backyard, and my grandfather and my uncle decorate it with many electric Christmas lights. And inside we have a smaller Christmas tree, fresh from the forest, placed in the corner of the living room. This one is decorated with beautiful shimmering Christmas glass balls in red, gold and green, silver and golden tinsel hanging all over the tree, and it has real white candles. Everything sparkles, and the house smells so good from the cookies, the goose in the oven, and the warm cinnamon apples. We have lots of nicely wrapped gifts under the tree, and some of them have my name on it. I love Christmas time.
In spring, a new neighbor is moving in next door. Her name is Lorelei, and she lived in the USA for many years, and has just moved back to Germany. She is so cool, and a very interesting person with lots of stories. I like her, and also her boyfriend Bill is a very nice guy. She brought a very big wild cat from the United States. His name is Bo. He looks a bit like a bobcat, but he is a little bigger than that. And Bo has dark grey eyes, a very muscular body, short hair in two different grey tones, and big two-inch long vampire teeth. I think Bo really likes me. Every time I go in the garden, he comes right next to me and purrs and snuggles. His back is as high as my belly button. Bo is really huge (the size of a Great Dane, just with a bit shorter legs), and a lot of the people in the neighborhood are afraid of him. But let me tell you, he is such a sweet cat.
Like I told you before, my grandma likes to cook. And she cooks really yummy food. So, as usual she is cooking in the kitchen, and the window, which is facing the garden, is open, and … guess what? Bo smells it and jumps up from the garden through the open window into the kitchen. It thought it was funny. Well, Lorelei thought it wasn’t so funny, and installs a high garden fence a few days later. It doesn’t work! The fence is not high enough, and Bo still jumps over it easily to visit our garden, and our kitchen. Which I think is hilarious, and my grandma is used to it now.
Too bad, I have to go back to Switzerland, and I hear a week later from my grandma that Bo died. She says it looks like he was poisoned. I bet it was somebody from the neighborhood. What a shame. Bo was such great cat, and never harmed anybody. I miss him.
My grandparents are still in Germany, and my grandmother gets sick with a bad flu. So I have to stay with my parents in Switzerland for another month. As usual, they are busy with their life as musicians, and I am often alone at home.
It is in the middle of the night, I wake up because of the excessive loud roaring noise of motorcycles. A big group of guys in black leather outfits, and heavy motorcycles, circle through our back yard, and destroy our big terrace, and the wonderful garden. I am really scared, but I remember something my grandpa told me once. She said that people like that are doing bad things only when they think that nobody is at home. So, I go in the master bedroom, push the stereo tower and the speakers in front of the patio door. I open the patio doors, and switch on the stereo on the highest volume. Then I run through the house, and switch every light on. You can’t believe it; they vanished so fast! Of course, my actions cause a reaction, and the neighbors call the police because of the loud music coming from our house.
In the early morning hours, finally my parents come home, and I am sitting there in the company of two police officers. My parents get a warning for leaving me alone at home. The very next day, my parents pack a bag for me, and drive me to a foster family. I cannot understand why my parents do that to me. I am so upset, and mad, and afraid too. They speak a few words with the foster couple, and just leave. They leave without me! How can they do that?
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am sure the couple and their two kids are nice and friendly, but I definitely don’t want to stay here. The woman shows me the rest of the apartment. It is already late afternoon and everybody is in the kitchen, where the man is cooking, and the kids getting the dining table ready. I sit shyly in a corner of the living room, and watch them. Dinner is ready; the woman calls me to the table. She is pointing to the empty chair on the side next to her. I sit down, and stare on my plate. I am not sure what this is, it smells not bad, but I am not hungry at all. She says: “You really should eat.” I can’t eat. My stomach is so nervous, and I am still very upset about the whole thing. Before the woman can say anything more, I stand up, and run into the guestroom and lock the door from inside. I am thinking about my parents, and about being here, and that's the moment when my feelings just explode. The rage comes like a big wave over my whole body, my hands are shaking, my cheeks are getting hot, tears fill my eyes, and my hands turn into fists. I start banging on the door; I swirl around and start grabbing everything I can. I take a table lamp and smash it against the wall. I empty the whole shelve with books and knickknacks, and everything flies through the room. At last, I grab a chair with both hands and push it towards the window until the glass breaks into hundreds of pieces. I feel exhausted, sad and lonely. My body relaxes and I lean against the wall. After a few minutes I slip down onto the floor, my arms hugging my knees, my head resting on it, and I start softly sobbing. The foster family is totally shocked about my outburst, and they call my parents: “We cannot have such a child in our home. This is unacceptable. You have to take her back. Today! We will not let her stay over night. Sorry.”
About one hour later my parents arrive. My mother is knocking pretty hard on the door, and says with her strong voice: “Open that door right now! You don’t have to stay here! Open the door!” I know she is mad, I can tell on her tone of voice. But hey, it can’t be worse than staying here. I open the door and wait what happened next. My mother is furious. She yells at me, and her hand is around my arm, so that it really hurts. She is yelling and yelling. Jesus - does she never take a breath? She goes on and on, until we both are down in the car, where my father is waiting. I sit in the backseat, my head down, sobbing and wiping down my tears. And then I see my little luggage, and my Barbie box. What is going on here? My parents don’t speak at all. It is kind of creepy. I look around, and I see that we are already on the highway. And there it is. The next sign over the highway shows, that we are driving to the airport. My sobbing immediately stops and a sort of happy feeling comes from my toes up to my nose. My father takes the next exit to the airport, and it’s clear; they’re sending me to my grandparents! Yes, yes, yes!
I tell you, it is such a great feeling to sit in that airplane, and to know that I will be with my grandparents in about one hour. The airplane lands in Düsseldorf, and the flight attendant walks me through the gate, I immediately recognize my grandparents from far away – I am relieved.
I don’t care what the flight attendant says; I just run underneath the barrier into my grandparent’s arms, and I am just as happy as I can be.
Chapter 4
My grandmother is baking and I am helping her. Well, mostly I am watching her, and she gives me the empty bowls to lick. She is amazing. My grandma has her own recipes for her cakes, tarts, and cookies. She is baking a vanilla-almond cheesecake, a poppy seed cake, and a sour cherry tart with butter cream. My grandma can cook and bake in that kitchen for hours. Oh, and it always smells so yummy.
The cheesecake has fresh vanilla beans and almond oil in it. After stirring up the dough for over twenty minutes, she pours the dough into a round form, and bakes the cheesecake for almost an hour. It smells so unbelievably good. After the cheesecake is finished, the top is nice brown on the edges and buttery yellow towards the inside. When you have a piece on your plate and you try to stick your fork in it – it is so fluffy, the fork just goes through without any effort.
Her poppy seed cake is also a piece of work and very delicious too. She takes the poppy seeds in a bowl and pores milk over them. Then she grinds the poppy seeds with a hand grinder to a mushy black-grey paste. After that she makes vanilla dough, pours half of it in a baking form, and pours the poppy seed paste in the same form, and afterwards the rest of the vanilla dough on top. This cake bakes for one hour in the oven. After that, my grandma takes a cup of confectioners’ sugar, mixes it with lemon juice, and spreads the icing on top of the poppy seed cake. The chilled cake has a nice crusty top, and the inside is very moist and soft. The combination of all the ingredients is just incredible. You take a bite; it is sweet, but not too sweet. The taste of the vanilla dough and the poppy seed paste melts together to a mouth full of joy.