Bloots to'n Ankieken  

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Nebelmoond 1996)

So bilütten güng dat warrer opwarts in Düütschland. No de Währungsreform in'n Juni 1948 wüür veel in de Kiekfinster to sehn, wat johrelang verswunnen wüür.  

Heiner Aldag bummel dörch de Stroten vun Buxtud un keek sik verwunnert de Utlogen an. Wat dat nich allns geev!! De Jung harr sien wohre Freid, all' dat Scheune antokieken. Jo, bi't Ankieken wörr dat wull ok blieben. Sien Mamma harr bloots Geld för dat Neudigste.  

Wiehnachten keum ümmer neuger, all de Stroten un Finster wüürn hill vun Lichterkeden. Vör een Speelwoornloden bleev he batts stohn. Merden mank de Speelwoorn stünn een Treckwogen. ,De driggt sien twee bet dree Zentner,' dacht Heiner so bi sik. So een kunn he good bruken. Ober 45.-- DM, dat woyr de Pries, ne, so veel Geld harr sien Mudder nich öber. Dat Inkomen reck jüst för de Miet', dat Elektrische, Hult un Kohlen. Een warme Döns harrn se ümmer. Eten un Drinken müß ok jo ween. Hainer wüür so in't Waßdoom, datt he ümmerto Hunger harr. Foken wüür ok dat Eten knapp so kott no'n Krieg. To'n Tuschen harrn se nix, un de Afsneed op de Lebensmiddelkorten goranteern man jüst een Öberlebensschangs.  

So gans in sien Sinneern verloorn hüür Heiner blang sik wispeln: ,,Wat will de Hungerlieder denn hier? Wat he süht, kann sien Mudder em sowieso nich käupen. De hebbt doch nix in de Melk to kräumeln. Kiek mool sien Büx an, de is em doch al lang veel to lütt un to kott.'' Minnachtig keek Jochen Palm Heiner vun de Siet an, as he disse Wüür sien Fründ Hinnik Harms tofluster. ,,Oh Hinnik, kiek mool den scheunen Treckwogen, den wünsch ik mi to Wiehnachten. Mien Vadder köfft mi den, dor bün ik mi wis. Minsch, kann'k dor scheun mit rümkarjohln un vun'n Diek hendoolsusen,'' prohl Jochen. De beiden Jungs harrn jümehrn Vadder noch, un dat wüürn rieke Buurn. 1945 wüür Heiner sien Vadder noch fulln, op düütschen Bodden. Jümehr smuck Tohuus is 1943 in Altno utbombt worrn. Oma, Opa un Tant Grete sünd in den Füürstörm ümkomen. Nix, rein gor nix wüür nobleben. Een Dack öbern Kopp harrn se jo warrer bi Buur Palm kregen, ober jüm fehl dat an all de Ecken un Kanten.  

Weeh doon hett Heiner, wat Jochen dor eben seggt hett. Worüm bloots? Foken hett Heiner em bi de Schoolarbeiten holpen wenn he nich kloor keum. Jo, sien Büx wüür al lang to kott, he schoom sik dorüm ok meist so'n beten. Still un bedröfft güng Heiner to Siet un kunn noch sehn, datt Jochen un Hinnik sik jümehr Näsen an dat Kiekfinster plattdrücken dän.  

De Greunhöker an de Eck harr so'n Treckwogen. Inkellerkotüffeln hett he an de Lüüd in de Middagstiet un no'n Fierobend in de Kellers bröcht. Swoor füll em dat mit sien tweischoten linke Hand. Dor seten an Steed vun de Finger bloots iesern Krallen to'n Griepen an. As Heiner dat ton iersten Mol sehn hett, is em dat kold langs den Rüch lopen.Foken hett Heiner mit topackt, wenn he jüst vörbikeum. As Dank kreeg he denn Greuntüüch for de Zeeg un sien Koninken.  

Jo, hüüt Obend wull he dat mit den Treckwogen ober doch mool mit sien Mudder besnacken. In de letzt' Tiet keum se ümmer bannig loot vun de Arbeit. ,,Geef veel to doon in de Wiehnachtstiet,'' entschüllig se sik.  

Een Slötelkind wüür Heiner. Dat wüür de Utdruck för de Kinner, op de nüms teuv, wenn's ut de School keumen. De Slötel for de Huusdöör bummel jüm an een Sacksband üm den Hals. Vör een warme Mohltiet harr Mudder Aldag ober ümmer sorgt. Supp or Broodkutüffeln stünn' to'n Opwarmen proot för ehrn Jung'n. De lütte Koot wüür ümmer oprüümt un propper bevör se moddens Klock söben ut'n Huus güng. To Wiehnachten schull Heiner sien Koninkenbuck in'n Putt. Wiet, gans wiet weg wull Heiner lopen wenn Buur Palm sien Knecht Hannes em an't Fell güng. Bloots doran dinken un sien Kehl wuur tosnüürt. Keen Happen wörr he dorvun eten, nee nichmool vun de Schü keum wat op sien Töller. In Heiner sien Achterkopp steek ober de Treckwogen. Wat kunn he nich allns dormit beschicken! Gras snien op de satten Wischen för de Zeeg, Hunnenkruut un Kleber för de Koninken, allns in een Rutsch, rin in'n Sack un mit den Treckwogen no Huus dormit. Man wat kunn dat för'n Leben warrn!! Jo, Steenkohln un Briketts vun den Kohlenhöker kunn he afhooln un den Bringerlohn spoorn, dat wüür doch wat! Nodinkern seeh he sik al mit den Treckwogen rümschirrwarken. Öberall stünn doch anschreben <Ratenzahlung bis zu 24 Monaten möglich>. Ober sien Mamma köfft bloots wat se ok fuurts betohln kunn. Also: ,,Aus der Traum!'' sä Heiner luut to sik sübst, un batts stünn he ok al warrer mit beid' Been op de Ier.  

Obends Klock acht keum Fro Aldag iers vun de Arbeit. Wat Heiner nich wüß, se harr no Fierobend noch een Kontor reintomoken annohm. De Jung wüür so wussen, gans neudig müß he Kleedoosch hebben, un ohn Dannenboom wüür dat keen richtiget Wiehnachten. Köst allns veel Geld.  

,,Oha, nu mütt ik ober gau an mien Huusopgoben,'' mohn Heiner sik un schuul no de Klock. Kotte Tiet loter stünn Fro Aldag afmoracht in de Köök un freug: ,,Na mien Jung, büß noch nich farig? Kummst nich kloor? Schall Mamma di helpen?'' ,,Nee Mamma, ik hebb hüüt rümdräumelt,'' anter Heiner.  

Bi'n Obendbroot wüürt denn ober doch sowiet, datt Heiner sien Mudder den Treckwogen smackhaft moken müch. Ober mit betohlen op Roten, nee, dor harr se nix mit in'n Sinn. ,,Heiner, veel neudiger bruukst du Tüüch, büß doch öberall ruutwussen. För den Wiehnachtsbroden heß du jo sorgt,'' geef Mudder Aldag to bedinken. ,,Mamma, köönt wi de Konink nich verkäupen? Ik kann dor nix vun eten. Wenn'k bloots doran dink, hebb ik al een Klüten in't Halslock. Froog doch de Buurfro mool, ob se mien Koninkenbuck villicht gegen een Goos, or reckt jo ok, gegen een Eunt tuschen wörr?'' Heiner harr Troon in sien Ogen. Sien Jonny, so neum he sien Buck, harr sik ümmer vun em strokeln loten. Heiner sien Treed kinn he gans nau un rammel vör Freid an de Kobendöör wenn he keum. Nee, leber keen Treckwogen; denn schull Mudder man een Broden käupen Hüüt wüürt nu Hilligobend. Klock süß sünd Mudder un Söhn to Kark gohn. Johrin-johrut klüng de Gottsdeenst mit uns scheunstet Wiehnachtsleed <Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht> ut.  

Dat wüür bannig koold un al fix düster as se ut de Kark keumen. Achter eenige Finsterruten brennen al de Dannenboomlichten. ,,Ob Mudder wull een harr? Siet güstern dröff he de Dööns nich betreden. So lütt wüür he jo wohrraftig nich mihr mit sien knapp 14 Johr. Ober loot Mudder man dat Vergneugen mit ehr Heemlichdoon,'' dacht Heiner so bi sik.  

Jonny hett öberleevt. Mudder harr vun Fro Palm een Eunt kregen för neihn un flicken. Nie nich hett se ehr Hannen in den Schoot leggt. Een fliedige Fro wüür sien Mudder.  

Heiner hett in de Köök teuvt bet he ropen wörr: ,,Nu komm rin mien Jung, is Wiehnachtsobend.'' Merden in de Döns stünn de Treckwogen! Nich bloots to'n Ankieken, nee to'n Anfoten! In den Wogen stünn een smucken Dannenboom un de Lichter brennen al. Ünnerto wörr Heiner nu ok noch een Büx un een Joppen wies. ,,Mamma, Mamma, du büß de allerbest' Mudder op de ganse Welt,'' stomer Heiner vör Freid. ,,Is al good mien Kind, büß doch allns wat mi bleben is no dissen gottverdammten Krieg. Dien Vadder fehlt uns bannig! Stult wörr he ween, wenn he sien groten Jung'n nu sehn kunn,'' sä de junge Kriegerwittfro mit bebern Stimm.  

Gans sacht fummel Heiner ut sien Büxentasch een lütte in Wiehnachtspopier inwickelte Schachtel. Unbeholpen un verschoomt geev' he se sien Mudder. ,,Dat is vör di, Mamma.'' Fro Aldag verfehr sik. De Jung kreg doch gor keen Taschengeld! Vörsichtig wickel se ut, wat ehr Söhn ehr dor to Wiehnachten schinkt harr. An een fiene Sülverkeed hüng een lüttet Krüüz ut Sülver, se kunn't nich foten! ,,Heiner, de is ober smuck, ik frei mi gans dull, ober du hest doch,'' wieder keum se nich. ,,Mamma, ik hebb no de School den Greunhöker jeden Dag twee Stünn holpen. För dat Geld hebb ik di de Keed köfft,'' sä Heiner mit blanke Ogen. Gans fast neuhm se ehrn Jung in de Arms un drück em an sik. ,,Vun Harten Dank, mien Heinerjung.'' Troon hebbt ehr de Stimm stickt. Ober se harr sik gau warrer ünner Kuntrull.  

Kommodig seten de beiden in de Döns. Op'n Disch leeg de Bibel. Dat wull nich Wiehnachten warrn, bevör Fro Aldag de Wiehnachtsgeschicht leest harr. Se steiht bi Lukas in't tweete Kopitel un end't:  

,,Ehr schall ween Gott in de Höcht un Freden op de Ier un de Minschen een Wohlgefall'n.''
 

Just to Look at  

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal  
(November 1996)
 
Little by little, things were improving again in Germany. Following the currency reform in June of 1948, much of what had disappeared for years reappeared in the store windows.

Heiner Aldag strolled along the streets of Buxtehude and admired the displays with amazement. Incredible what kind of things you could get! The boy truly enjoyed himself looking at all the lovely things. Sure, it didn't go beyond looking. His mom could only afford the bare necessities.

Christmas was approaching fast. All the streets and windows where lit up with fairy lights. Suddenly he stopped in front of a toy store. A wagon was standing in among the toys. 'I bet that one can carry two to three hundred pounds,' Heiner thought. He sure could do with one those. But DM 45.00 -- that was the price -- no, his mother wasn't going to be able to come up with that much money. The income barely sufficed for rent, electricity, wood and coals. Their living room was always warm. And food and drink was a must. Heiner was hungry all the time because he was in the middle of a growth spurt. Oftentimes even food was scarce so soon after the war. They had nothing with which they could barter, and the grocery ration card stubs barely guaranteed a chance of survival.

Lost in thought, Heiner heard someone next to him whisper, "What's the starveling doing here? Anyway, his mother can't buy whatever he's looking at. They don't have two pennies to rub together. Look at his pants! They've long been way too small and too short." Jochen Palm was disdainfully looking at Heiner out of the corners of his eyes while he was whispering these words at his friend Hinnik Harms. "Oh, Hinnik, look at the cool wagon! It's what I want to get for Christmas. My father will buy me one. That's for sure. Boy! Will I be able to go for rides and whiz down the dike in it!" Jochen was showing off. The two boys still had their fathers, and they were wealthy farmers. Heiner's father was killed in action as late as in 1945, on German soil. Their beautiful home in Altona had been destroyed in a bombing raid in 1943. Grandpa, Grandma and Auntie Maggie had perished in the inferno. Nothing, absolutely nothing was left. Well, Farmer Palm did give them a roof over their heads, but that's just about all they had.

Heiner felt hurt by what Jochen had said there. Why would he do that? Heiner had often helped him with his homework when he had problems with it. Well, yes, his pants had long been too short, and he did feel kind of embarrassed about it. Heiner moved aside quietly and sadly, and the last thing he saw was Jochen and Hinnik pressing their noses flat against the display window.

The greengrocer at the corner had a wagon like that. At noontime and after work he would deliver storage potatoes to people's basements. It was hard for him with his left hand crippled from a shot wound. There were only a metal claw in place of fingers. A shiver ran down Heiner's spine when he first saw that. Heiner lent a hand quite a few times when he happened to pass by. As a token of thanks he got some vegetables for the goat and his bunnies.

Yeah, that evening he'd discuss this thing with the wagon with his mother. She kept getting back from work pretty late recently. "There's a lot of work during the Christmas season," she kept explaining.

Heiner was a latchkey kid. That used to be the name for children for whom nobody was waiting when they returned home from school. They had front door keys on strings hanging from their necks. Mother Aldag always made sure that there was a warm meal. Soup or fried potatoes ready for reheating would be waiting for her boy. The little cottage was always tidy and clean before she left the house at seven o'clock in the morning. For Christmas, Heiner's jackrabbit was slated for the pot. Heiner felt like running far, far away at the thought of Farmer Palm and his farm hand Hannes laying hand on it. He only needed to think about it and his throat got all choked up. He wouldn't eat a single bite of it -- nope, he wouldn't even have any of the sauce on his plate. But the wagon kept being in the back of Heiner's mind. There was no end to the number of things he would be able to do with it! Cutting grass for the goat on the lush meadows, dandelion and clover for the rabbits, all in one fell swoop, into the bag and then back home with it in his wagon. Boy, what a fine life that would be! Yeah, he'd pick up pit coal and pressed coal from the coal merchant's and would save the delivery fees. That'd be great! He could already see himself doing odd jobs with the wagon. There were signs all over saying [in German], "Up to 24 monthly installments." But his mom would only buy things for which she could afford to pay in cash. All right then, [in German] "So much for this dream," Heiner said to himself out loud, and there he was back with both feet on the ground.

That evening Mrs. Aldag got back from work as late as eight o'clock. Unbeknownst to Heiner, she had taken on an office cleaning job after work. The boy had grown so much. He was in urgent need of some clothes, and it wouldn't be real Christmas without a Christmas tree. All that cost a bunch of money.

"Oh, gee! I'd better do my homework right away," Heiner admonished himself and glanced at the clock. Soon after, Mrs. Aldag was standing in the kitchen, all exhausted, and asked, "Well, honey, aren't you done yet? Are you having problems? Shall Mommy help you?" "No, Mommy, I've been daydreaming," Heiner replied.

But then, during supper, it was finally time for Heiner to kindle in his mother's mind some enthusiasm for the wagon. But paying in installments? No, she sure wouldn't have any of that. "Heiner, you're in much more urgent need of some clothes. You've outgrown everything. After all, you've already seen to it that we have a Christmas roast," Mother Aldag argued. "Mommy, can't we sell the rabbits? I can't eat any of it. I only need to think of it to get all choked up. Why don't you ask the farmer's wife to see if perhaps she'd swap my jackrabbit for a goose or ... a duck, and that'd do us just fine." There were tears in Heiner's eyes. His Jonny -- that's what he called his jackrabbit -- had always let himself be petted by him. He was able to recognize Heiner's footsteps and on his arrival would buck against the cage door with delight. No, he'd rather do without the wagon. He'd rather see Mom buy a roast. Today was Christmas Eve. At six o'clock, mother and son went to church. Year after year the service ended with our most beautiful Christmas hymn: "Silent Night, Holy Night."

It had turned rather cold and dark when they left the church. Christmas tree candles had already been lit behind several window panes. ,I wonder if Mom got one.' Since the previous day he hadn't been allowed to enter the living room. Really, he wasn't that little anymore with his almost 14 years! ,Well, let Mom have some fun with her secrecy,' Heiner thought.

Jonny did live. Mom had gotten a duck from Mrs. Palm as payment for sewing and mending. Her hands never rested. His mother was an industrious woman.

Heiner had waited in the kitchen until he heard the call, "Come on in, honey! It's Christmas Eve." The wagon was standing in the middle of the living room! Not just to look at but to actually touch! A pretty Christmas tree was standing in the wagon, and the candles had been lit. After a while Heiner also noticed a pair of pants and a jacket. Mommy, Mommy! You are the best mother in the whole world," Heiner stammered full of joy. "It's all right, sweetie. You are all I've got left after this darn war. We're missing your father terribly! He'd be proud if he could see his big son now," the war widow said with a shaky voice.

Very carefully Heiner pulled out of his trouser pocket a small box wrapped in Christmas paper. Awkward and embarrassed he handed it to his mother. "This is for you, Mommy." Mrs. Aldag was shocked. After all, the boy didn't get any allowance! Carefully she unwrapped whatever it was her son had given her for Christmas. A little cross out of silver hung from a thin silver necklace. She couldn't believe it! "Heiner, how pretty it is! I really love it. But you don't have ..." That's how far she got. "Mommy, I've been helping the greengrocer for two hours every day. I bought you the necklace with that money," Heiner said with sparkling eyes. She took her boy into her arms and hugged him tightly. "I thank you with all my heart, my Heiner Baby." Tears were choking her voice, but soon she regained control.

Cozily the pair was sitting in the living room. The bible was lying on the table. It wouldn't really become Christmas before Mrs. Aldag had read the Christmas story. It's found in the second chapter of Luke and ends with ...

"Praised be God on high and peace on earth and joy to mankind!"

Bloots tou d'n ankiken  

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Nevelmoond 1996) 
    
Soo biluetten gueng dat warrer opwarts in Duytschland. Naa de Währungsreform in d'n Juni 1948 [negenhunnerd acht-un-feirtig] weir feel in de kiikfinster too sein wat jarelang ferswunnen weir. Hainer Aldag bummel doerch de straten fun Buksthuud' un keek sik ferwunnerd de uutlagen an. Wat dat nich allens geev'! De jung har siin ware fraid' al dat schoyne an tou kiken. Jaa, bii 't ankiken woyr dat wul ouk bliven. Siin mamma har bloots geld foer dat noydigste.

Winachten koym uemmer noyger; al de straten un finster weirn hil fun lichterkeden. Foer 'n speilwarenladen bleev' hei bats staan. Merdenmang de speilwaren stuend 'n trekwagen. ,Dei drigt siin twei bet drei tsentner,' dacht Hainer soo bii sik. Soo ein kun hei goud bruken. Aver 45.00 DM [fiiv-un-feirtig mark] -- dat weir de priis -- nee, soo veel geld har siin mudder nich euver. Dat inkamen rek juest foer de miit, dat elektrische, hult un kolen. 'n Warme doenss harren sei uemmer. Eten un drinken muess ouk jaa ween. Hainer weir soo in d't wassdoum dat hei uemmer tou hunger har. Faken weir ouk dat eten knap soo kot naa d'n kriig. Tou d'n tuuschen harren sei niks, un de af-sneid op de levensmiddelkaarten garranteiren man juest 'n euverlevensschangs.

Soo gans in siin sinneiren ferloren hoyr Hainer blang sik wispeln: ,,Wat wil de hungerlider den hiir? Wat hei suyt kan siin mudder em sowisoo nich koypen. Dei hebt doch niks in de melk tou kroymeln. Kiik maal siin bueks an! Dei is em doch al lang feel tou luet un tou kot.'' Minnachtig keek Jochen Palm Hainer fun de siid' an as hei disse woyrd' siin fruend Hinnik Harms tou-fluster. ,,Oo, Hinnik, kiik maal d'n schoynen trekwagen! Den wuensch ik mii tou Winachten. Miin fadder koeft mii den; daar buen ik mii wiss. Minsch, kan 'k daar schoyn mit ruem-karjolen un fun d'n diik hendaal-susen,'' praal Jochen. De baiden jungs harren juem eren fadder noch, un dat weiren rike buren. 1945 [negen hunnerd fiiv-un-feirtig] weir Hainer siin fadder noch fullen, op Duytschen bodden. Juem er smuk touhuus is 1943 [negen hunnerd drei-un-feirtig] in Altnaa uut-bombd worren. Ouma, Oupa un Tant Grete suend in d'n fuyrstoerm uem-kamen. Niks, rain gaar niks woyr naa-bleven. 'n Dak euvern kop harren sei jaa warrer bii Buur Palm kregen, aver juem feel dat an al de ekken un kanten.

Wei daan het Hainer wat Jochen daar even segd het. Waruem bloots? Faken het Hainer em bii de schoularbaiden holpen wen hei nich klaar koym. Jaa, siin bueks woyr al lang tou kot; hei schaam sik daruem ouk maist soo 'n beten. Still' un bedroevd gueng Hainer tou siid' un kun noch sein dat Jochen un Hinnik sik juem er nesen an dat kiikfinster plat druekken deen.

De groynhoyker an de ek har soo 'n trekwagen. Inkellerkartueffeln het hei an de luyd' in de middagstiid un naa d'n fieravend in de kellers broecht. Swaar fuel em dat mit siin twai-schaten linke hand. Daar seten an steed fun de finger bloots isern krallen tou d'n gripen an. As Hainer dat tou d'n eirsten maal sein het is em dat kold langs d'n rueg loupen. Faken het Hainer mit tou-pakd wen hei juest foerbii-koym. As dank kreeg' hei den groyntuyg foer de tseig' un siin kaninken.

Jaa, huyt avend wul hei dat mit d'n trekwagen aver doch maal mit siin mudder besnakken. In de letst tiid koym sei uemmer bannig laat fun de arbaid. ,,Geev' feel tou doun in de Winachtstiid,'' entschuellig se sik.

'n Sleutelkind woyr Hainer. Dat woyr de uutdruk foer de kinder op dei nuems toyv' wen s' uut de schoul koymen. De sleutel foer de huusdeur bummel juem an 'n saksband uem d'n hals. Foer 'n warme maaltiid har Mudder Aldag aver uemmer sorgd. Sup or braadkartueffeln stuenden tou d'n op-warmen praat foer eren jungen. De luette kaat woyr uemmer op-roymd un propper befoer sei moddens klok seuven uut d'n huus gueng. Tou Winachten schul Hainer siin kaninkenbuk in d'n put. Wiit, gans wiit weg wul Hainer loupen wen Buur Palm siin knecht Hannes em an 't fel guengen. Bloots daran dinken un siin keel woyr tou-snuyrd. Kein happen woer hei daarfun eten -- nee, nich maal fun de schuy koym wat op siin toeller. In Hainer siin achterkop steek aver de trekwagen. Wat kun hei nich allens daarmit beschicken! Gras snien op de satten wischen foer de tseig', hundenkruut un klever foer de kaninken, allens in ein rutsch, rin in d'n sak un mit d'n trekwagen naa huus daarmit. Man, wat kun dat foer 'n leven warren! Jaa, steinkolen un brikets fun d'n kolenheuker kun he af-holen un d'n bringerloon sparen. Dat woyr doch wat! Naa-dinkern seig' hei sik al mit d'n trekwagen ruem-schirwarken. Euveral stuend doch an-schreven ,,Ratenzahlung bis zu 24 Monaten möglich''. Aver siin Mamma koeft bloots wat sei ouk fourts betalen kun. Also, ,,Aus der Traum!'' see Hainer luut tou sik suelvst, un bats stuend hei ouk al warrer mit baid bein op de eird'.

Avends klok acht koym Frou Aldag eirst fun de arbaid. Wat Hainer nich wuess, sei har naa fier-avend noch 'n kontor rain tou maken an-namen. De jung woyr soo wussen; gans noydig muess hei kleidaasch hebben, un aan dannenboum woyr dat kein richtiget Winachten. Koest allens feel geld.

,,Ou, ha! Nuu muet ik aver gau an miin huus-opgaven,'' maan Hainer sik un schuul naa de klok. Kotte tiid later stuend Frou Aldag af-marachd in de koyk un froyg': ,,Na, miin jung, buest noch nich farig? Kumst nich klaar? Schal Mamma dii helpen?'' ,,Nee, Mamma, ik hev huyt ruem-droymeld,'' anter Hainer.

Bii d'n avendbrood woyr 't den aver doch soo wiit dat Hainer siin mudder d'n trekwagen smakhaft maken muech. Aver mit betalen op raten, nee, daar har sei niks mit in d'n sin. ,,Hainer, feel noydiger bruukst duu tuyg; buest doch euver al ruut-wussen. Foer d'n Winachtsbraden hest duu jaa sorgd,'' geev' Mudder Aldag tou bedinken. ,,Mamma, keunt wii de kanink nich ferkoypen? Ik kan daar niks fun eten. Wen 'k bloots daran dink hev ik al 'n kluyten in 't halslok. Fraag' doch de buurfrou maal of sei miin kaninkenbuk fillicht gegen 'n goos or -- rekt jaa ouk -- gegen 'n eunt tuuschen woer?'' Hainer har tranen in siin ougen. Siin Jonny -- soo neum hei siin buk -- har sik uemmer fun em strakeln laten. Hainer siin treed' kind hei gans nau un rammel foer fraid' an de kovendeur wen hei koym. Nee, lever kein trekwagen; den schul Mudder man 'n braden koypen. Huyt woyr 't nuu Hillig Avend. Klok suess suend mudder un seun tou kark gaan. Jaar rin jaar uut klueng de gotsdeinst mit uns schoynstet Winachtsleid ,,Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht'' uut.

Dat woyr bannig kold un al fiks duyster as sei uut de kark koymen. Achter einige finsterruten brennen al de dannenboumlichten. ,Of Mudder wul ein har?' Siit guestern droev hei de doenss nich betreden. Soo luet woyr hei jaa waraftig nich meir mit siin knap 14 [feirtain] jaar. ,Aver laat Mudder man dat fergnoygen mit er heimlich doun,' dacht Heiner soo bii sik.

Jonny het euverleevd. Mudder har fun Frou Palm 'n eunt kregen foer naien un flikken. Nii nich het sei er handen in d'n schoot legd. 'n Flitige frou woyr siin mudder.

Hainer het in de koyk toyv'd bet hei roupen woer: ,,Nuu kum rin, miin jung! Is Winachtsavend.'' Merden in de doenss stuend de trekwagen! Nich bloots tou d'n an-kieken, nee, tou d'n an-faten! In d'n wagen stuend 'n smukken dannenboum, un de lichter brennen al. Uenner tou woer Hainer nuu ouk noch 'n bueks un 'n joppen wiis'. ,,Mamma, Mamma! Duu buest de allerbest mudder op de ganse welt,'' stamer Hainer foer fraid'. ,,Is al goud, miin kind. Buest doch allens wat mii bleven is naa dissen gotferdamden kriig. Diin fadder feelt uns bannig! Stult woer hei ween wen hei siin groten jung nuu sein kun,'' see de junge krigerwitfrou mit bevern stim.

Gans sacht fummel Hainer uut siin bueksentasch 'n luette in Winachts-papeir in-wikkelde schachtel. Unbeholpen un ferschaamd geev' hei sei siin mudder. ,,Dat is foer dii, Mamma.'' Frou Aldag ferfeer sik. De jung kreeg' doch gaar kein taschengeld! Foersichtig wikkel sei uut wat er seun er daar tou Winachten schinkt har. An 'n fine suelverkeed' hueng 'n luettet kruyts uut suelver. Sei kun 't nich faten! ,,Hainer, dei is aver smuk! Ik frai mii gans dul. Aver duu hest doch ...' Wider koym sei nich. ,,Mamma, ik hev naa de schoul d'n groynhoyker jeden dag twei stuenden holpen. Foer dat geld hev ik dii de keed' koefd,'' see Hainer mit blanke ougen. Gans fast noym sei eren jung in de arms un druek em an sik. ,,Fun harten dank, miin Hainer-jung.'' Tranen hebt er de stim stikd. Aver sei har sik gau warrer uenner kuntrull'.

Kommodig seten de baiden in de doensss. Op d'n disch leeg' de bibel. Dat wul nich Winachten warren befoer Frou Aldag de Winachtsgeschicht leesd har. Sei stait bii Lukas in 't tweide kapitel un endt:

,,Eer schal ween Got in de heugd un freiden op de eird' un de minschen ein woolgefallen!''

Just to Look at  

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal  
(November 1996)
 
Little by little, things were improving again in Germany. Following the currency reform in June of 1948, much of what had disappeared for years reappeared in the store windows.

Heiner Aldag strolled along the streets of Buxtehude and admired the displays with amazement. Incredible what kind of things you could get! The boy truly enjoyed himself looking at all the lovely things. Sure, it didn't go beyond looking. His mom could only afford the bare necessities.

Christmas was approaching fast. All the streets and windows where lit up with fairy lights. Suddenly he stopped in front of a toy store. A wagon was standing in among the toys. 'I bet that one can carry two to three hundred pounds,' Heiner thought. He sure could do with one those. But DM 45.00 -- that was the price -- no, his mother wasn't going to be able to come up with that much money. The income barely sufficed for rent, electricity, wood and coals. Their living room was always warm. And food and drink was a must. Heiner was hungry all the time because he was in the middle of a growth spurt. Oftentimes even food was scarce so soon after the war. They had nothing with which they could barter, and the grocery ration card stubs barely guaranteed a chance of survival.

Lost in thought, Heiner heard someone next to him whisper, "What's the starveling doing here? Anyway, his mother can't buy whatever he's looking at. They don't have two pennies to rub together. Look at his pants! They've long been way too small and too short." Jochen Palm was disdainfully looking at Heiner out of the corners of his eyes while he was whispering these words at his friend Hinnik Harms. "Oh, Hinnik, look at the cool wagon! It's what I want to get for Christmas. My father will buy me one. That's for sure. Boy! Will I be able to go for rides and whiz down the dike in it!" Jochen was showing off. The two boys still had their fathers, and they were wealthy farmers. Heiner's father was killed in action as late as in 1945, on German soil. Their beautiful home in Altona had been destroyed in a bombing raid in 1943. Grandpa, Grandma and Auntie Maggie had perished in the inferno. Nothing, absolutely nothing was left. Well, Farmer Palm did give them a roof over their heads, but that's just about all they had.

Heiner felt hurt by what Jochen had said there. Why would he do that? Heiner had often helped him with his homework when he had problems with it. Well, yes, his pants had long been too short, and he did feel kind of embarrassed about it. Heiner moved aside quietly and sadly, and the last thing he saw was Jochen and Hinnik pressing their noses flat against the display window.

The greengrocer at the corner had a wagon like that. At noontime and after work he would deliver storage potatoes to people's basements. It was hard for him with his left hand crippled from a shot wound. There were only a metal claw in place of fingers. A shiver ran down Heiner's spine when he first saw that. Heiner lent a hand quite a few times when he happened to pass by. As a token of thanks he got some vegetables for the goat and his bunnies.

Yeah, that evening he'd discuss this thing with the wagon with his mother. She kept getting back from work pretty late recently. "There's a lot of work during the Christmas season," she kept explaining.

Heiner was a latchkey kid. That used to be the name for children for whom nobody was waiting when they returned home from school. They had front door keys on strings hanging from their necks. Mother Aldag always made sure that there was a warm meal. Soup or fried potatoes ready for reheating would be waiting for her boy. The little cottage was always tidy and clean before she left the house at seven o'clock in the morning. For Christmas, Heiner's jackrabbit was slated for the pot. Heiner felt like running far, far away at the thought of Farmer Palm and his farm hand Hannes laying hand on it. He only needed to think about it and his throat got all choked up. He wouldn't eat a single bite of it -- nope, he wouldn't even have any of the sauce on his plate. But the wagon kept being in the back of Heiner's mind. There was no end to the number of things he would be able to do with it! Cutting grass for the goat on the lush meadows, dandelion and clover for the rabbits, all in one fell swoop, into the bag and then back home with it in his wagon. Boy, what a fine life that would be! Yeah, he'd pick up pit coal and pressed coal from the coal merchant's and would save the delivery fees. That'd be great! He could already see himself doing odd jobs with the wagon. There were signs all over saying [in German], "Up to 24 monthly installments." But his mom would only buy things for which she could afford to pay in cash. All right then, [in German] "So much for this dream," Heiner said to himself out loud, and there he was back with both feet on the ground.

That evening Mrs. Aldag got back from work as late as eight o'clock. Unbeknownst to Heiner, she had taken on an office cleaning job after work. The boy had grown so much. He was in urgent need of some clothes, and it wouldn't be real Christmas without a Christmas tree. All that cost a bunch of money.

"Oh, gee! I'd better do my homework right away," Heiner admonished himself and glanced at the clock. Soon after, Mrs. Aldag was standing in the kitchen, all exhausted, and asked, "Well, honey, aren't you done yet? Are you having problems? Shall Mommy help you?" "No, Mommy, I've been daydreaming," Heiner replied.

But then, during supper, it was finally time for Heiner to kindle in his mother's mind some enthusiasm for the wagon. But paying in installments? No, she sure wouldn't have any of that. "Heiner, you're in much more urgent need of some clothes. You've outgrown everything. After all, you've already seen to it that we have a Christmas roast," Mother Aldag argued. "Mommy, can't we sell the rabbits? I can't eat any of it. I only need to think of it to get all choked up. Why don't you ask the farmer's wife to see if perhaps she'd swap my jackrabbit for a goose or ... a duck, and that'd do us just fine." There were tears in Heiner's eyes. His Jonny -- that's what he called his jackrabbit -- had always let himself be petted by him. He was able to recognize Heiner's footsteps and on his arrival would buck against the cage door with delight. No, he'd rather do without the wagon. He'd rather see Mom buy a roast. Today was Christmas Eve. At six o'clock, mother and son went to church. Year after year the service ended with our most beautiful Christmas hymn: "Silent Night, Holy Night."

It had turned rather cold and dark when they left the church. Christmas tree candles had already been lit behind several window panes. ,I wonder if Mom got one.' Since the previous day he hadn't been allowed to enter the living room. Really, he wasn't that little anymore with his almost 14 years! ,Well, let Mom have some fun with her secrecy,' Heiner thought.

Jonny did live. Mom had gotten a duck from Mrs. Palm as payment for sewing and mending. Her hands never rested. His mother was an industrious woman.

Heiner had waited in the kitchen until he heard the call, "Come on in, honey! It's Christmas Eve." The wagon was standing in the middle of the living room! Not just to look at but to actually touch! A pretty Christmas tree was standing in the wagon, and the candles had been lit. After a while Heiner also noticed a pair of pants and a jacket. Mommy, Mommy! You are the best mother in the whole world," Heiner stammered full of joy. "It's all right, sweetie. You are all I've got left after this darn war. We're missing your father terribly! He'd be proud if he could see his big son now," the war widow said with a shaky voice.

Very carefully Heiner pulled out of his trouser pocket a small box wrapped in Christmas paper. Awkward and embarrassed he handed it to his mother. "This is for you, Mommy." Mrs. Aldag was shocked. After all, the boy didn't get any allowance! Carefully she unwrapped whatever it was her son had given her for Christmas. A little cross out of silver hung from a thin silver necklace. She couldn't believe it! "Heiner, how pretty it is! I really love it. But you don't have ..." That's how far she got. "Mommy, I've been helping the greengrocer for two hours every day. I bought you the necklace with that money," Heiner said with sparkling eyes. She took her boy into her arms and hugged him tightly. "I thank you with all my heart, my Heiner Baby." Tears were choking her voice, but soon she regained control.

Cozily the pair was sitting in the living room. The bible was lying on the table. It wouldn't really become Christmas before Mrs. Aldag had read the Christmas story. It's found in the second chapter of Luke and ends with ...

"Praised be God on high and peace on earth and joy to mankind!"