Under a tree, alone in a park in Chatham Ontario crying my eyes out, June 29,1951, my thirteenth birthday (566 words)
My dearest Alice,
When will I be able to hold your hands, look into your eyes and smell your hair?
We now live in a dark apartment up long stairs. Why did we have to leave Switzerland? I was adjusting to the kids in school and they to me. I had a best friend, I was in Boy Scouts and I found you. Even mom could have had a fresh start with that man that was head over heels for her. He never yelled, scowled, never demanded and was never drunk and never hit.
The time on the ship was wonderful. I met a nice french girl. We couldn’t talk, but explored the whole ship together. It was huge many stories high. The higher you went the fancier it got. Men in white bringing chairs, pillows, towels at the swimming pool, fruit and drinks. They even opened doors for us. This must be what paradise is like. From the top level the front of the ship was small and people were even smaller. Mom liked being alone I think. She read, napped, walked around a little and we had supper together in the huge dining room with huge round glittering lights. All of a sudden it was over. A large city appeared with a large statue of a lady in the water. We had to leave the ship.
It was hot. Everything was dirty even the hotel room and the air stank. The train from New York to Canada was posh with nice green comfortable seats. There were dark men serving drinks and meals in the restaurant. Some were black with funny curly short hair that looked like steel wool, but shiny black. A friendly man talked with us in broken German. He was very nice and helpful when we needed something. Dad met us at the train and even hugged mom. The first few days were a blurr. I was like a dog following its master. Slowly and cautiously I walked around the area, over to the school I would have to attend. It was gigantic with many stories and many windows. How could there be so many kids? The school yard was many times as large, as the one I left.
There were sooo many new impressions, sooo much to take in and learn. Along every road and all the fields was wasted grass. We could feed many goats and rabbits. At night there were thousands of flashing lights and many seemed to travel up, down, or across. Nothing was ever dark in Chatham. Little kids were walking the streets at night and some even alone. Why weren't they home in bed? Everything was huge, the stores, the cars, the streets, the parks, everything, groceries, fruit, even bananas and oranges.
Could my head handle all this? It was too fast, too much and too much for a letter.
I had already met some Swiss people who spoke good English. Everyone was wonderful to us. Why were they so nice? They even have TV, a cabinet with a glass that shows moving pictures like a movie - amazing! I saw a cowboy on a horse! All the kids I see are big, much bigger than me. They play ball in the schoolyard with huge gloves and a very fat stick. There is soooo much to learn. Wish you were here with me. I’ll write you again soon.
Your Marcel
Alice - Do Angels Really Exist?! (6390 w.)
There in the distance an outline, a silhouette of a girl. I was headed in that direction. Why out here, alone?
It was a crisp autumn Saturday afternoon. I was participating in an exciting trail hunt. A typical large field game for my Boy Scout group. As I came nearer more and more details became clear. Yes, she was a girl about my age, petite. She wore a sweater, skirt, stockings and brown shoes. Her hair was shiny, dark brown short - Bob-like. I was almost beside her when I said, "Hoi" meaning hi. She responded with a soft almost quiet hoi also. She appeared shy, but she had large dark eyes. For a brief moment I thought I detected a slight almost hidden smile. She kept walking. Her movements were gentle, almost magical. She looked like an angel. I had the strangest feelings go through my body.
I wanted to stay, but I had to continue before the others caught up to me. "I have to go", I stammered. "The others are nearby. I'm looking for yellow yarn pieces, trying to find a treasure." "I come here often", she whispered, turned off the path and down the hill. "Tschau, uf wiederluege" (meaning bye, see you again), she said in sing-song like tones, like an angel. Was she an angel? Did I just dream that? As I continued looking for yellow clues, I kept glancing down the hill, but she was gone. Strange, my Boy Scout Saturday outings were always extremely special, but that day my head was somewhere else.
I didn't tell anyone about my experience. I couldn't get her out of my mind. That night I stayed awake longer, much longer. Over and over she walked, almost floated through that meadow, along the woods, her dark friendly eyes with that almost smile on her face surrounded by that beautiful shiny dark brown hair. As she moved, it too moved in rhythm. Would I see her again? I had to find her again. Tomorrow, Sunday, I would go back and look for her. I wondered what her name was. Sunday morning I made sure that I did extra things for mom around the kitchen. It was a very cool, but a sunny day. I was inwardly so wound up with anticipation, I almost exploded.
Did mom notice the change? Would she become curious and ask questions?
I told mom that I would meet up with some friends and play - probably we would play ʻToeggeleʼ/Fussball in the restaurant by the lake. “Be home for supper and behave yourself”, she warned. I grabbed an apple, gave her quick hug and yelled ʻTschuessʼ (so long), as I ran down the basement to the garage grabbed my bike and off I went. Romanshorn, the little city about 8 km away was an easy ride, the same one we did every Saturday afternoon to go to the Boy Scout meetings. But I had to go back to the meadow along the woods and look for my angel, or wait and hope she would return there as well. I must have pedaled like crazy, because I was there in no time and had beads of sweat on my forehead. I rode the bike on the path along the woods near the meadow, then down the hill toward the houses. Then up the hill back to the exact spot where I first saw her. If she was an angel, perhaps she would be invisible. But then, how could I have seen her the first time? I rode back and forth many more times, but no angel, no pretty girl with shiny brown hair, big eyes and that hint of a smile.
I became disappointed, propped my bike against a bench, laid down in the grass and looked at the clouds. I looked for her face in the puffy clouds and played my memory movie over and over. Time passed and I may even have fallen asleep. When I looked up at the clouds again, I was cold and it was almost four oʼcock. I was so very very disappointed and hungry. I ate my apple and scanned down the hill, along the path and even into the woods. No angel. I had to go home so mom wouldnʼt worry. She always worried about me. Now that my father was in Canada, she worried even more.
At supper I asked mom, if she believed in angels, had she ever seen one, could they look like humans and where do they really live. Is the ʻChristkindʼ (Christmas angel) like other angels, because she was/is very beautiful? Mom was puzzled why I would be asking about angels.
After school there wasn't enough time to ride to Romanshorn, look for her and return before mom would get suspicious and ask questions I didn't want to have to answer. I had to wait until Wednesday afternoon, when we had no school. The waiting was killing me. I was absorbed and preoccupied. Mom told me I was daydreaming too much. My teacher caught me several times not paying attention and used those moments to physically shake me, scare me by standing behind me and yelling in my ear, or grabbing a tuft of hair beside my ear and ripping it upward. That usually resulted in a yelp, a red face and an intention to do better.
When school was out on Wednesday, I ran home about 1 1/2 km, grabbed an apple and four little squares of chocolate (that would get me into trouble with mom, because she always prepared something for me to eat, not chocolate), ran down to the garage, got the bicycle, closed and locked the garage door and pedaled off to Romanshorn. When I reached the meadow, I pedaled up the hill to ʻourʼ bench and waited. I scanned the meadowʼs edge for my angel. Surely, she would show up today. I waited and waited. I wondered how far away from school she lived. Would she have to do tasks before coming? Would her mother need her, or let her go? Time passed, very very slowly. I ate my apple and two pieces of chocolate.
Between the houses, where the path started, two figures moved slowly along the path. Was one her? Would they come my way, or go in a different direction? Yes, they were walking in my direction. One was a girl. I noticed a skirt. The other was a boy, almost her size. What was she doing bringing another boy? Yes, itʼs her. I recognized her hair, her face, even her walk. But, what about this boy? I wondered, if I should walk towards them, or wait. I wanted to run, but held back, curious and concerned. As they came closer, I saw a smile on her face. She lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hoi”, she greeted. “Hoi”, I responded. Then I was tongue-tied. She was holding the boyʼs hand. He was quiet and looked vacant. “Say, hoi”, she whispered to the boy. “Hoi”, he responded in a raspy kind of voice. “Itʼs my brother. I have to take care of him. Heʼs ok, just slow.” “Whatʼs his name?” I asked, as I offered him a piece of chocolate. “Itʼs Bruno. He loves chocolate”, she smiled. Then the mystery was solved. I was elated. She took out her hanky and wiped his mouth. “Go and find some nice leaves, Bruno," she suggested. “Ok” and he walked away.
“Iʼm Alice", she said. “Iʼm Marcel”, I replied. My heart was thumping inside my chest. Could she see my excitement? “I was hoping you would come”, I stammered. “I couldnʼt come on Sunday. We had visitors, my uncle and aunt”. “I was here waiting”, I shot back. I shouldnʼt have said that. That was wrong, I reminded myself. “I understand. Itʼs ok”, I quickly offered. “Would you like a piece of chocolate?” I held out the piece of paper it was wrapped in. She gently took it and placed it in her little bag. “Iʼll save it for Bruno, as a reward”, she said. I was with my angel, Alice. I was in heaven. We sat on the bench and didnʼt talk. We were content just being close. After some time passed, she asked, “Do you like ʻPfadiʼ (Scouts)?” “Oh, I love it. Iʼd go every day, if I could”.
We chatted in intermittent bits about scouts, her knitting, making a skirt with her mom and watching over Bruno. We slowly walked in the direction Bruno was playing and then walked back to the bench. I looked t my watch. I had to go back home and do my chores and homework - yuk! Her smile changed to a frown, then said, “I have to go too and do homework.” We agreed on next Wednesday, same time and place. “What about Saturday afternoon, like last time?” she asked. “Pfadi. We always do something different and go in different directions, mostly in the forest. That wonʼt work”, I apologized. We walked down the path together and our arms touched several times. My heart raced and my face turned red. It was late for me. I had to hurry home. At the bottom I stammered, “Tschuess” (so long), glanced in their direction, hopped on and raced off.
We did that, meet in the meadow by the woods almost every Wednesday afternoon, even on cold days. On really wet days I dinʼt go and found out, that she didnʼt either. It became a pattern. We met, we walked, Bruno played, sort of, and we were happy. We didnʼt talk much. Her parents both worked. They were good parents. They always ate supper together, went to church on Sunday, but didnʼt know about me. Through scouts I found out about a film, a movie, that would be playing in Romanshorn, Robinson Crusoe. I had never seen a movie and wanted to see it badly, but not with my mom. I begged my mom to let me go alone. Why alone, she wanted to know. Because Iʼm growing up I told her. She wasnʼt convinced and wouldnʼt say yes until I told her what was going on. “Itʼs a girl mom”, I finally admitted. “You have a girl? Youʼre too young for that”, she exclaimed loudly and surprised. “Sheʼs a very nice girl”, I insisted. “We want to see the film together. Neither of us has ever seen a movie before. Iʼll ride my bike. “But how do you know her? Where did you meet? How,” “Ok, Iʼll tell you, but please donʼt get mad at me”
I told my mom the whole story, about our walks in the meadow with her brother that has something wrong with his brain. How we just liked being together. What about Susie, didnʼt I like Susie any more? Well, yes, sort of, but we were just good school friends, I explained. Does Susie know about Alice, she asked. No, of course not, I emphatically said. She would get very angry if she found out. The Movie Sunday finally arrived. Mom gave me money for my ticket and for a treat and cautioned me to be careful driving and be polite with everyone. I drove to Romanshorn one whole hour early. I already knew where the hall was, because I looked for it another time when I went to see Alice on a Wednesday afternoon. I locked the bike in a bike rack and waited for my Alice. I was sooo excited. It must have shown, because I kept walking back and forth in front of the door. Others arrived and a line began to form. I didnʼt know, if I should get in line , or keep moving back. A nice adult lady with two small children said to get in line in front of her and wait for the person I was waiting for there. I thanked her very much.
Finally Alice arrived, without Bruno. Oh boy! We would be alone. Well, with all the other people, but alone as a couple. I was thrilled. The picture screen was huge, no, gigantic. We sat about five rows from the front. The movie was just right there! When the captured black man almost got killed by his captors, Alice grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. I had her hand in mine. Could this be happening? We were holding hands. When she stopped squeezing and began breathing again, she didnʼt move her hand away. We held hands through the whole movie. I saw the movie, but also didnʼt see the movie, because I had to keep looking at Alice, my Alice, my angel.
Christmas came and went. Christmas had always been so special to me, the Christmas tree in its glory with all the shiny ornaments, the chocolate ornaments, the glittering tinsel and of course all of the lit candles. Iʼm sure there were Christmas presents and Christmas cookies and singing of Christmas carols. But it was all different this year. Yes, I know, my dad wasnʼt with us. He was already in Canada. Mom and I were alone. She was sad and cried a little. But there was that man who always hung around my mom and brought her gifts and invited her to restaurants for dinner so she wouldʼt have to cook. I have no memory of that Christmas, none. I only remember wanting to go and be with Alice - just to walk, to be beside her, to talk or not, to be close.
In February just before lent started, ʻFasnachtʼ would be celebrated. For kids it meant dressing up, running around the streets, participating in a parade, or even a dance. Dances were always for adults and at night. But this year there would be a dance in Romanshorn, at the same hall where the movie was.
I wanted to go with Alice of course, but I couldnʼt dance. I pleaded with mom to teach me. Mom was a great dancer and loved to dance. Since dad was gone, mom and I had a much better relationship. I gladly did what she asked me to do and she allowed me much more freedom than dad ever did. It was like a huge weight had been removed from my shoulders. Mom almost eagerly agreed to teach me to dance. Some evenings mom actually put her work aside and searched for suitable music on the radio. We lifted her work table down to her sewing machine, placed the four chairs upside down on the table, moved her mannequin aside and searched for pins on the floor. We didnʼt want any accidents. Mom was a good teacher and didnʼt get angry like my father always did, when I made a mistake. She just said letʼs do it again. My difficulty was having to change roles. When I was being shown steps, I was the girl, then had to take the manʼs role and lead my mom. That was less difficult for mom, because she often danced with a girlfriend. She even showed me how it should look by demonstrating with Ruth, her dressmaking apprentice. So over time I learned how to dance the foxtrot, the march and the waltz. Next she wanted me to learn how to polka, but she thought, that they probably wouldnʼt play polkas at a dance for children. I felt very proud and grown up.
Alice and I also had to decide on what costume to wear. With momʼs advice we agreed on being Indians. She said, that the material would probably be free, if we used burlap potato sacks. I liked the idea a lot and Alice eagerly agreed. Mom offered to help Alice with her costume, but she declined, wanting to do it herself. Mom offered her pieces of brown, yellow and red cloth. I delivered them and we agreed to totally make our own costumes. I fetched two large brown sacks from the shed and checked them for holes. Mom made me wash, rinse and dry them. Mom seemed excited for me. Mom loved Fasnacht (fashing/mardi gras) with a passion. Costume balls allowed her the opportunity to let her ʻother self/inner self/alter egoʼ out to play. Hidden in a costume mom became a different person, uninhibited, outgoing, happy and self confident. She thrilled during that season and away from dadʼs presence. Every year she designed and created a new costume and dad never knew what she worked on. It was customary for partners to go their separate way and ʻdo their own thingʼ. Of course mom always managed to find out somehow where dad would go. She would go to the same masquerade ball, gorgeous in her gown, the amazing wig and sparkly matching mask , play up to him, get him to dance with her and chase her all night. Then at midnight, when everyone would unmask, she managed to give him the slip and disappeared. She would be home in bed when he arrived.
Mom asked me what an Indian looked like. I described my impression. Who knows where that came from. First mom took a bunch of measurements. “Stand this way, lift your arms, stand with you legs apart just a little, turn around, stand on the chair”, she commanded and wrote everything down. Then she drew sketches based on my description. Cutting and making the pants was next. She made patterns with tissue paper, pinned them onto the cloth, cut, pinned some more and sewed. I was given the task of making strips of red fringe. I had to be very careful to make every cut the same depth and each strand the same width. I was so pumped, so thrilled to be working with mom this way, seeing her happy and working on my costume - wow!
Of course, it was all a secret. No-one knew, not Chlaus, by best buddy, Susie always wondered and asked stupid questions, others too wondered why I was never around any more. If they only knew, they would treat me differently, Iʼm sure.
The weeks passed quickly. Our Wednesday rendezvous were very short, because we both had chores and homework to do and of course we had to finish our costumes. We both were curious to know what the other was doing, yet not ask outright - ʻhowʼs it coming?ʼ ʻHow far along are you?ʼ. I was also busy looking for swan feathers.
I drove all along the lakeʼs shoreline and walked great distances. It was cold and windy. But I did ok. I found two dozen. Some were a bit messed up and I had to carefully brush them back into shape. I had better luck with chicken and rooster feathers. Beside our chickens, I knew every neighbour in the area who had chickens. I gathered only the largest and cleanest. Mom sewed the headdress strap and tested it. It fit perfectly. Now it needed fringe and feathers. I carefully laid out the feathers by size and colour and in a pattern starting from the middle of the top of the head and going down both sides. The feathers stuck snugly between the burlap strap and the sewn on red fringe.
The almost finished headdress looked very real to me. All it needed now was white cotton balls glued on every feather where it entered the cloth. Making cotton batten balls was difficult. Mom had a good idea, to hold a tuft and tie it with thread so it would keep its shape. That worked and the end result was WOW!
The bolero type vest seemed to be the most work. The fringe had to be exactly horizontal across the back and the chest. Mom adjusted and pinned, adjusted some more and repinned. Then she sewed it with her SInger very quickly. It was done. Mom had even sewed in secret a shoulder bag with a flap in front and with fringe and a pair of modified half spats to cover my shoes and make them look like Indian shoes (moccasins). She was generous and awesome. I think even mom was proud of the costume. I was elated.
On Wednesday before the masquerade dance, both Alice and I were tense almost uneasy. Were we ready? Were we a match? Would we recognize one another? Of course we were ready and of course we would. Who else would have a burlap costume with fringe? Who else would have one as nice as ours? I could hardly sleep those last three days. I dreamt of Indians and a big chief stealing my Alice. Sunday finally arrived. I wasnʼt hungry, but mom made me eat an even put a piece of bread and sausage in my bag. “You have to eat, son”, she worried. “Letʼs get you ready”. “Are you sure you wonʼt be cold without a shirt?” “Itʼs in that big hall. There will be lots of people and it will be heated”, I pleaded. Once I had the costume on and the headdress, she said, come into the bathroom, I have another surprise for you”. I followed wondering. Near the sink was a little box filled with coloured sticks, like chalk. She held one and smeared reddish- brown colour onto her fingertips. She then began rubbing it on my cheeks and forehead, the whole face and neck. I transformed. I couldnʼt believe my eyes. She also rubbed it on the back of my hands and wrists. How real! Next, she used white and black directly on my skin and made three marks on each cheek and above my nose. It looked stunning - I truly was an Indian.
I wanted to give mom a big hug, but she suggested later would be better, with all that make-up. I went to get my coat. No, no, that wouldnʼt work. The coat would get full of paint. “Here use this blanket as a wrap”, she offered. “But mom, I canʼt ride my bike this way”. “You donʼt have to. Ruth is driving you there.” What? I donʼt have to ride my bike, unbelievable. Did I feel special. I was so excited, I almost jumped out of my skin.
Ruth drove right up in front of the building. I thanked her and clambered out and was about to slam the door when she yelled, “Iʼll pick you up at 4:30”. Wow, we had 2 1/2 hours together. I ran toward the entrance. Others were entering, many, but not Alice.
There was an open area before the great hall. I looked for an Indian princess. Inside a man was talking over a speaker, something about welcome, the dance, prizes and treats, then the music started. Where is my princess? Was she not coming? I was destroyed and wanted to leave, but walk home in the cold? Just then the entrance door opened a crack, a little more and a beautiful Indian Princess appeared. I floated, flushed and my heart wanted to jump out. I ran to Alice, my Alice. She was here. The world was perfect. We greeted and stared at each other. She was perfect. Her dress reached the floor. It had yellow and red fringe. The upper part had form, like my mom said it should. The fringe went across her chest almost the same level as mine then across her back. The only difference was the colour. Hers was yellow and red. It was beautiful. She was beautiful with her wide headband all painted in bright colours and with one striking large eagle feather, at least it looked like one.
“Would you like to dance”, I asked politely. “Of course I would”, she quietly replied. It was a slow foxtrot. Here we go, I thought. No more counting out loud. Let the music tell you the steps, my mom told me. Listen to the beat. Nervously I placed my right hand at the back of her waist and took her right hand in my left. We moved in among the many others. Some bounced into us and we had to start again. As I turned her to my right she missed a step and I stepped on her foot. “Oh, no! Did I hurt you?” I stammered. “Iʼm sorry” No, no, Iʼm sorry. Itʼs my fault”, she countered. I continued,”This will probably happen many more times”. It did. We laughed about it. We danced and danced and danced. We were both on a cloud.
As we moved among the others we began to see the variety of costumes. Some wore just a mask and others had very fancy costumes. There were pirates, clowns, Globi, PiPi Langstrumpf, arabs, scare crows, a Frankenstein, monsters, robbers, jail birds, Haensel & Gretel, a policeman, some boyscouts, some chimney sweeps, some cowboys and even a Robinson Crusoe and many others we didnʼt recognize. There were so many, may be hundreds. We swooned to the music, even marches. I just didnʼt want to let go, ever. I was holding Alice, my Indian princess, so tightly. Oh, my gosh, I realized that she was pushing away. “Iʼm sorry. I squeezed too hard”, I apologized. “No, no, I just didnʼt want to step on your toes”, she apologized right back. We danced some more.
Then the lights became brighter and the speaker squealed. A voice said it was time for the parade and judging. Everyone please form a large circle and follow the clown with the balloons. We did. It didnʼt look like circle. There were just too many kids. “Hold it. Stop”, said the voice. Letʼs form two circles. We slowly managed to do that.
Then the voice said, “ Form two circles. The inner circle turn and face the outer circle. The outer circle keep going and the inner circle stop and go in the other direction. We want you to see the others. Youʼre all amazing. Ok, stop. Now open the two circles here by the judges. Good. Ok, letʼs begin. All of the clowns into the middle and form a circle. and begin walking to the music in this direction. When someone with a white glove taps you on the shoulders, please leave the inner circle and rejoin the rest. HERE WE GO.” The music played, but not as loud, as before. About 12 to 14 clowns formed the inner circle and moved as they were told. Three adults looked down from the stage and then went down to the inner circle. “Ok,” the voice said, “all the clowns now do two full rotations, turn as if you were nailed to the floor.” With a bit of confusion and bouncing into the next person, all did two turns. The white gloves began touching shoulders and the circle just disappeared. Three were left and the white glove persons guided them up the stage.
The voice, “The third place winner is ....” and the gloved person lifted one clownʼs hand in the air and handed him a paper bag. “The second place winner is ......” and the other gloved person lifted a clownʼs hand in the air and handed him a paper bag. “And this boys and, sorry, ladies and gentlemen, is your Winner. What is your name?” “A.. a.. Anita”, she stammered. The voice said, “Please applaud now.” Anita was all colourfull frills with striped stockings, pointy shoes with huge bows, a huge curly white wig with a tiny top hat on one side and a carnation on the top hat. She received a box.
Next came the the scary ones and Frankenstein was the winner. Then all of the ʻworking classʼ costumes, the cowboys, farmers, chimney sweeps, maids, nurses and so on were next. That was a large group. The winner was a chimney sweep with a black top hat, a short ladder, black tight coat & pants, scraper and long circled brush. He looked like my grandfather in miniature. He was perfect. The next group were the ʻbad onesʼ, the robbers, the pirates, the murderers and others. “ Now we will judge all of the remainder who are alone, not the pairs, no pairs please,” said the voice. A robot and a tree were announced as a tie for first prize. The voice began again, “Last but not least would all of the pairs come to the inner circle”. Alice and I moved closer along with a farmer and his wife, a pair of angels, a boy and girl clown, two pairs of Indians, a cowboy and a cowgirl, two arabs, two pirates, a toothbrush and toothpaste tube, a caterpillar and a butterfly and a puppeteer with his marionette. We circled to the music. The white glove people were behind us. As we moved one by one, pairs left the circle. There were only four couples left - the cowboy and cowgirl, the toothbrush and toothpaste tube, two other Indians and Alice and me. My heart began to beat faster. I squeezed Alice's hand and she squeezed right back. The other Indians were touched, we were safe. Your winners are - third place the cowboys, second place the toothbrush and toothpaste. Could this be? Did I hear correctly? We won, we won, wow! On the stage I saw a sea of costumed kids all looking up at us and clapping. My head was light, my heart wanted to jump out. The gloved lady smiled and gave each of us a box. They were Pralines, Lindt & Spruengli chocolates, the finest.
This was the best ever day in my life. Well almost. Aliceʼs mom came to walk her home and Ruth and my mom picked me up. They wanted to know every detail and I was eager to tell.
Spring came and went. Easter meant changing grades or even school. Alice graduated and went from grade six into ʻSekundarschuleʼ, a stream of education in Switzerland leading to apprenticeships and various trades. For girls it may lead to office clerk, entry level administration, housework for those looking to get married young and for boys it could be apprenticeships for operation or repair of equipment, machinery, sales, entry level administration and so on. The smart kids were streamed to go to middle school, one leading toward higher levels of education, technically, administratively, legally, or medically. Me, I was in a predicament. I hadnʼt been a good student. My marks were mediocre to marginal. My teacher had already pegged me ʻto amount to nothingʼ. So I should pass into grade seven, then grade eight and get any lower level blue collar apprenticeship, to become ʻjust a workerʼ (a helper, a painter, a hired hand on a farm, etc.). My parents wanted me to go to into ʻSekundarschuleʼ, leading toward various trades. My father was a believer that working with your hands was honourable. But since we would be joining my father in Canada in the summertime, mom thought it was best, for me to just go into grade seven for a few months.
I didnʼt want to go to Canada. I wanted to be with Alice. We were together regularly on Wednesday afternoons and sometimes even on Sunday afternoons. We went for walks with Bruno, picked flowers and even made crowns out of flower chains for each other. It worked out, because mom was extremely busy with her work as dressmaker, selling the house and all our stuff and with that intruder, the real estate man, who was pestering my mom.
Time passed very quickly. All of a sudden it was time to leave. I pleaded with mom not to go. Since dad left, our lives were normal, no yelling, no fighting, no fear of a drunken powerful unpredictable man in the house. The real estate man was more than wonderful, attentive, generous, caring, respectful and truly liked mom and wanted mom and me to stay. He even bought her a beautiful gold ring with a huge bright yellow gem in it. Mom struggled with this decision and often cried at night. “We have to go. Weʼre a family”, she argued. On our last day together, I asked for Aliceʼs address and carefully placed it in the inner compartment of the bicycle light, inside where the bulb is placed. That would be a very good hiding place. I cried and cried and cried and Alice cried, sobbed and her tiny body was shaking. Bruno began to cry as well. We walked silently to her street, hugged again, I smelled her hair one last time, got on my bike and pedaled home. By the end of the week we were on a train headed for Le Havre in France and from there we would board a ship and sail across the big Atlantic ocean. When would I see my Alice again?
