Arriving in Berlin, Part 2

West Berliners at Tempelhof Airport

On December 27, Carol, Monica, Helga and I left Lindau. I took a train to Munich, then got on a plane to visit Reinhard and to meet his mother in Berlin. I flew into Tempelhof Airport the scene of so many iconic spy movies and also where the Berlin Airlift happened.  Shortly after World War II in 1948, the Soviets and East Germans tried to strangle Berlin by cutting off all access with food and supplies. The Berliners who were trying to recover from the war and bombings of World War II now faced starvation and death from the lack of food and medical supplies being allowed to be transported: The Berlin Blockade.

Templehof Airport was the largest pipeline for supplies in 1948. The Allies devised a plan called The Berlin Airlift which saved the Berliners.  Planes would fly in and out on a precise schedule  dropping off supplies at Templehof.  If the plane was delayed, the pilot had to fly back to West Germany and get in line again. It was such an efficient operation that  eventually the blockade was ended with  some supplies allowd to come in using the highway and trains also.  It was an amazing page in history: whenthe winners of a war worked so hard to aid their previous enemy.

My favorite chapter in Berlin Airlift history is one I used to teach my students: “the Candy Bomber”. (YouTube has several videos on this)  Gail Halvorsen attached candy to handkerchiefs to drop to the the children of Berlin 1948-1949 as a sign of peace and to give them hope in their war-torn city now blockaded.

By the time I arrived in 1966, West Berlin was recovering and even flourishing.  I was a little surprised that the airport didn’t seem any bigger than Lambert Field, but Berlin wasn’t exactly a hub for travellers and West Berlin wasn’t that big at that time having been divided.  Reinhard picked me up at the airport and gave me a quick tour of Berlin showing me all of the beautiful new buildings with experimental, innovative designs. Reinhard, who was an architect, said there had been architectural competitions after the war that re-built West Berlin, so the designs of some were very “futuristic”.    

Reinhard seemed a little subdued—-maybe he was weighed down by his city’s history and maybe he was concerned about me meeting his mother and staying with them for two weeks. I know I was a little nervous about meeting his mother, a widow who had been through a lot in her life:  the Depression, World War II, the bombings and blockades of Berlin and the need to relocate from East Berlin. Would she be uncomfortable with an American? or with any woman her only child brought home?  I recently found out, she was adamantly opposed to our relationship even at Christmas. To quote Reinhard “The liaison was viewed somewhat critically by my mother!!”  So, I innnocently was walking into a “mine field” of emotions.

fortgesetzt werden.. . . .

Photos:  By Henry Ries / USAF - Library of Congress, "Berlin "Airlift" of 1948-1949 broke through Soviet blockade of the city by non-stop supply shipments to beleaguered garrisons and 2 1/4 million civilian population of West Berlin", CPH: 3c36389 [1], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4559179

By U.S. Air Force - U.S. Navy National Museum of Naval Aviation photo No. 2000.043.012; National Museum of the U.S. Air Force photo 050426-F-1234P-008, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3552352

By http://www.af.mil/media/photodb/photos/020903-o-9999b-094.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=280622

Transitions

 

Transitions are hard for me.  I can recall envying Peter Pan because he didn’t have to “grow up”.  I even still remember the lyrics to “I Won’t Grow up”, a song from a Peter Pan musical on TV by Mary Martin (who played Peter Pan).  I would sing it and stomp around the house pretending to be Peter Pan. Junior high was especially difficult with my mother expecting me to go to school dances.  I’d cry that I didn’t want to go, but she would just drive me there and sit with me in the car until I could get my courage up. Most of the time I stood in the girl’s restroom trying to avoid dancing with anyone.  I liked to dance, but none of the boys could dance very well and that embarrassed me.

Coming out of the rest room one night, Steve String, pounced on me to be in a dance contest . There was nothing worse than dancing with the tallest, lankiest boy in the class in a dance contest.  I became more and more frustrated and agitated that we weren’t eliminated. We were doing a simple box step, not a waltz or cha-cha.  We just looked so silly together because I was one of the smallest girls and he was so tall and skinny he had the nickname “String Bean”.  We were finally eliminated in third place.  I RAN from the dance floor to the rest room so embarrassed that we had been spotlighted when we clearly looked weird together.

The next transition was from teen-ager to adult which was also difficult.  Most of that transition happened while I was in Germany when I started dating a 26 year old man.  While I professed to love him, I couldn’t stop flirting with and socializing with some of my students who were basically my age between 19 and 21.  I went with a class  to Venice, Italy on a school trip.  We had a great time having spaghetti eating contests as well as seeing the sights.  Most of my sight-seeing was done with Dieter whom I was attracted to.  I kept pumping my emotional brakes and made it through the week without crossing any boundaries.  But I did write about it in my journal.  I told my 26 year old boyfriend about it when I got back. He just smiled in his beautifully mature way, giving me a hug, telling me he understood.

After I returned from Germany and was a full-time teacher, I dated a man who was a bit on the wild side.  He was a Viet Nam vet who hadn’t attended college, rode a motor cycle, had long hair and a short beard.  We got along great until he took me to a party that reeked of marijuana and I saw drugs being used.  I didn’t panic until I saw several of my students across the room.  I had unintentionally crossed over that border..  I left immediately and told him we couldn’t go out if he was going to take me to parties like that. We stopped dating shortly after that.  I fully transitioned at 25 when I started dating Dave.

I have now reached another transition from a middle aged married woman to being an elderly widow.  I wonder about old boyfriends and have come to the realization they might be dead.  I sleep alone in my bed and wonder if I’ll ever wake up to a man beside me smiling. Will I ever go dancing on a moon-light cruise again? Will I ever be able to stay up until 9 PM again? What’s it like traveling solo these days? One of my friends vows she’ll never marry again.  She says in her sweet Mississippi accent,” I won’t be any man’s nurse or purse”. I laughed but a little part of me also cried.

I have a high school reunion coming up.  I wonder if I’m going to be one of those pathetic widows who grabs another widow to dance the cha-cha.  Or, will I grab Steve String (the Bean) to dance and hope he’s moved on from the box step.