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521 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
"Ich habe ein Foto von meinem Vater gefunden. Es gibt Hunderte... Dies hier war weggesperrt... Verborgen hinter ihrem Kinderportrait hatte Else ihn, einen todtraurigen Mann um die 30- so verloren guckt er auf keinem Foto außer auf den letzten vor dem Volksgerichtshof."Seite 7
One of my first memories of the new era: I got slapped hard in the face. I can't remember who did it, whether it was Else or Barbara, I just remember flying through the kitchen. I had to become an adult before I understood why. Half-pint as I was, I had asked out of the blue, "Where did all the love for the Führer go? Why does nobody say Heil Hitler anymore?" Perhaps I should have asked, "Why did anybody ever say it?"
I have my own story about Easter eggs. It happened in 1945, the first time I had blown eggs for the Easter wreath and glued silhouetted figures all over it. The wreath stood on the dining table, and my dangling eggs were the loveliest, of course. When the inferno struck over Halberstadt on April 8, the Sunday after Easter, when that large-scale raid reduced 80 percent of the old town to rubble, the house stood firm, no one died. But the chandelier over the dining table crashed down on the Easter wreath and broke my eggs. The conflagration scorched my memory. Everything that existed before was buried in rubble and horror. Sic years were blown away, I know nothing about myself. My life began with my fury at the destruction of my Easter eggs.
Have I misunderstood you, because you never said anything? now you are dying as an "Untermensch." They deprived you of the cleric you requested. But your Mount of Olives is behind you, and you are a hero in your death. You lived in awful times, and if you wanted things to be better for your children, then you succeeded. You have paid the "blood toll" so that I don't have to. I have learned from you what I must guard against. That's what a father's there for, isn't it? I thank you.