German Fantasy

(Note: Each year we send a Christmas picture and letter. This was the Christmas following our trip to Germany. Carl wrote this one in Edith's voice and decided later no to send it, thinking that it may offend some people in the family.) 

Some family members know that Carl, John and I traveled to Germany earlier this year to visit David who is there on work assignment. It was a nice vacation and John stayed after Carl and I returned home.

Carl and I were happy to be home again and shared lots of stories with family and friends. Then, unexpectedly, certain changes seemed to take place. The correspondence from the boys lost most of the light-hearted chattiness that characterized it in the past. There was a new sense of rigidity in their discussions and numerous rules were cited and defended. References to meals now included mostly descriptions of pig knuckles, liverwurst and various styles of kraut. Other people who visited also noticed a difference and told us that John was buying more and more strong beer as he made his daily trips to the local store. The boys were no longer wearing the clothes they brought from Cincinnati and, instead, were shopping the thrift stores for the traditional costumes. Carl and I were shocked to find the new picture, shown here, of their sons on the Internet. They both gained a lot of weight and had taken on a new look of seriousness. Where had the spontaneity and innocence gone?

During August, there was short, confusing period of time where the people where Carl worked and I did not know of Carl's whereabouts. Some said that he was on an important Internet assignment and Edith thought he was stacking rock in the creek behind their home. After a few weeks, we realized he was missing. At the same time, there were unexplained sightings of a creature stalking animals on the hillsides surrounding our Delhi neighborhood. The Delhi Township police investigated the disappearance of many small animals, including chickens and rabbits. Vegetable gardens were plundered and young housewives reported a one-eyed prowler looking in their windows. Someone took a picture and posted it on the bulletin boards of the local supermarkets along with a reward offer. Late at night, a mournful refrain could be heard coming from the creek: “Im Munchen steht ein Hofbrau Haus, ein, zwei...”. I recognized the voice but told no one.  

I was very upset about the changes in my sons and could not face the thought that the wild creature being hunted by large groups of armed men could be the sweet, gentle Carl that I once held in my arms. It was more of a burden than a sweet young Irish girl from Brooklyn should be expected to bear.   Wait! Stop! What's going on here? I must be dreaming. I must be having a German fantasy. Maybe after 28 years of writing this Christmas letter, I should turn it over to someone else. Hey, how about Carl. He sure doesn't do much else at Christmas time!

December 1997, Carl H.

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