- Düsse Siedenserie ward vun Reinhard F. Hahn (sassisch@geocities.com) rutgeven. Alle Warken sünd rechtlich schütt un dröfft nich ahn Verlööf (101477.2611@compuserve.com) wiedergeven warrn. De Serie is för Netscape 4.04 or beter maakt worrn. De Achtergrund is 'n Tackendook, dat vun Fru Kramer-Freudenthal ehr egene Hand maakt worrn is.
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- © 1997, R. F. Hahn
Low Saxon in the original orthography: Wiehnachten 1951
vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Christmoond 1994)Nie nich vergeet ik dat Christfest 1951. Uns ierstes Wiehnachtsfest in uns egen Huus. Süß Johr no den beusen Krieg, de uns allns Materielle nohmen, ober de Hauptsook, hele Knoken un een kloren Kopp loten harr. Den 28. April 1951 sünd wie ut dat Ole Land no Harshei trocken. Hebb mi in mien Arm knepen, üm mi to öbertügen, ob ik ok nich dräumen dä, as mi de Sünn op den Freuhstücksdisch schien. Harr ik doch fief Johr in een Kellerköök ohn' Daglicht schirrwarkt. Wüür een scheunen Sommer 1951. To Enn August hett Adebor Towaß bröcht. Uns Jungs kregen en lütte Süster un wi een Dochder, op de wi al lang teuft harrn.
No een gullen Harß wüür gans liesen de Adventstiet in uns Huus hüppt. In uns egen Huus, nich to vergeten. Heizung geev dat noch nich. Bi den Huuskoop stünn in de Köök so'n olen Kononenoben. Al vör unsen Intoog wüür he utwesselt un een smucken Gas-Kohlenhierd stünn in de Köök. Sommerdag wöör op den Gas- un Winterdag op den Kohlenhierd kookt. Uns Leben speel sik in de Köök af. Wenn Beseuk keum güng dat in de Döns. Mit de Adventstiet änner sik dat ober. No dat Middageten wöör de Döns warm mookt. De Adventskranz stünn merden op den Disch. Plätten harr ik mit mien Jungs backt un Wiehnachtsruuch tröck dörch dat ganse Huus.
Wiehnachten keum ümmer neuger, un ümmer noch wüür keen Dannenboom dor. ,,Heinz, wann gedenkst du eigentlich einen Tannenbaum zu holen?'' woog ik den 4. Advent mien Mann to frogen. ,,Keine Sorge, das habe ich mir schon überlegt, den hole ich mit Diether und Heiner am Heiligenabend, dann werden sie billiger zum Schluß'', wüür sien Anter. ,,Du büß jo wull gans un gor vun Gott verloten, denn ist doch allns utsöcht, kriggst doch bloots noch Utschott un Affall'', entrüst ik mi. Dat bleev ober dorbi, de Boom wöör iers Hilligobend köfft. Müüch seggen, dat wüür fief Minuten vör twölf.
De Kugeln, dat Lometto, un den Dannenboomfoot harr ik al lang proot stellt. De Klock wüür bald een, as de dree mit den Boom ankeumen. Nu bün ik keen Minsch, de giern allns op den tokomen Dag verschuben deit. Leider Gotts is mien Mann een 100% igen
. ,,Guck ihn dir doch wenigstens einmal an'', sä he tögerlich. ,,Loot uns man iers wat eten. Hebb Knackwüß heet mookt un Kutüffelsolot gifft dat dorto'', anter ik temlich grandessig. ,,Mutti, es riecht so gut nach Grünkohl, kann ich davon bitte etwas haben?'' bettel mien Diether. ,,De Greunkohl is noch nich farig, den gifft dat hüüt obend, mien Jung, dat weest du doch. Ollanner Oort hebb ik mitnohm no Sleswig-Hulsteen''. As wi uns Eten weg harrn, bün ik mit rut un hebb mi den Boom ankeken. Du lebe Tiet! dat wüür doch keen Dannenboom! dat wüür een Krüppel! Mien Binnerst füng an to koken, nee, dat kook al öber: ,,Mien Gott, de hett jo twee Spitzen! Woneem hest du dien Ogen bloots hat? Goh fuurts los un tuusch dat Molüür üm'', baller ik mi de Wuut vun de Seel. ,,Den kann ich doch nicht tauschen, die haben doch längst Schluß gemacht. Das mit den zwei Spitzen ist nicht schön, aber die anderen waren so klein und mickerig'', kreeg ik to hüürn. ,,Di hett jo wull de Deubel reden, mi so een kröpeligen Boom antoslepen''. In Roog wüür ik, un dat nich wenig. ,,Es ist kein schöner Baum, aber ich kann ja die eine Spitze absägen'', sä mien Mann gans bedröfft. ,,Wullt nu ok noch een scheben Boom dorvun moken? Nix warrt afsoogt. Seeh to, dat du em endlich op'n Foot kriggst un plünner em mit de Jungs an. Ik hebb noog in de Köök to doon. De Klock is jo glieks al twee, denn mütt ik iers uns Lütt an de Boß leggen'', geev ik kottbössig to verstohn. ,,Warrt Wiehnachten'', beswicht ik mi, ,, ,Freden op de Ier un de Minschen een Wohlgefalln', hebbt de Engels in de Hilligenacht sungen as Jesus boorn wüür. Nu geev du ok Freden'', mohn ik mi. ,,Arger sleit op de Melk'', hett Mamma ümmer seggt. ,,Uns lütt Popp schall doch nich ünner den Unfreden lieden, sünst blarrt se sachs den gansen Hilligobend'', geev ik mi sülbst to bedinken.
As nu de Boom in de Döns stünn, hebb ik em ümmer noch nich lieden müücht, ober ik müß jo so doon as ob doch, wiel Wiehnachten wüür. Sünd scheune Wiehnachtsdoog wodden. All de Arger wüür vergeten as den iersten Wiehnachtsdag de Goosbroden knackig bruun op den Disch stünn in uns egen Huus. Wat wüürn wi riek! Dat Hult knack in den Oben, wi harrn to eten un bruken nich to friern.
Twüschen de Doog, dat is de Tiet twüschen Wiehnachten un Neejohr, keum mien Vetter Erich ut Quickborn mit sien Kinner uns to beseuken. As he unsen Dannenboom ankeek, meen he gans dreug: ,,Wißt ihr eigentlich, daß euer Baum zwei Spitzen hat?'' Luuthals füng ik an to lachen. Endlich kunn ik öber den Boom lachen. Hebb Erich vertellt vun den scheben Huussegen de an den Hilligobend 1951 öber uns sweevt hett, de ober verswünn, as ik de Wiehnachtsgeschicht leest harr.
Alleen hett mien Mann nie nich mihr een Dannenboom köfft. Siet 1952 mütt ik mit. Worüm weet ik gans nau, ik harr wull toveel mit em rümqüest. Nu sünd de Kinner ut'n Huus, wenn wi ok oold sünd, een Dannenboom hett uns noch Johr vör Johr op Wiehnachten instimmt. Bloots an Hilligobend warrt he nich mihr köfft, dor geev ik keen Rooh.
English translation by R. F. Hahn: Christmas 1951
by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(December 1994)I'll never forget Christmas 1951, our first Christmas in our own house, six years after the awful war that had robbed us of all material things but had left us the main things: ["whole/healthy bones" =] our health and a clear head. On the 28th of April 1961 we moved from the Altes Land to Harksheide [both areas near Hamburg]. I had to pinch myself [in the arm] to convince myself that I wasn't dreaming when the sun shone onto the breakfast table for me. After all, for five years I used to do my chores in a basement kitchen without daylight. We had a lovely summer in 1951. The stork had brought a family addition at the end of August. Our boys got a little sister, and we got a daughter for whom we had waited for a long time.
Quietly the advent season had arrived in our house after a golden autumn -- in our own house, mind you. There was no [central] heating at that time. When we bought the house there was one of those old cast iron stoves. It was exchanged even before we moved in, and beautiful gas- and coal-burning stoves were standing in the kitchen. We cooked on the gas-burning stove in the summertime and on the coal-burning one in the wintertime. We used to live our lives in the kitchen. We used to use the living room when we had visitors. But this used to change for the advent season. After lunch we would heat up the living room. The advent wreath would be standing in the middle of the table. Our boys and I would have baked some cookies, and the aroma of Christmas would waft through the whole house.
Christmas was getting closer and closer, and still there was no Christmas tree. ,,By the way, Heinz, when do you plan to get a Christmas tree?'' I dared to ask my husband [in German] on the fourth Sunday of Advent. "Don't worry. I've thought about it. Diether, Heiner and I will get it on Christmas Eve. They'll be cheaper then, just before closing," he answered [in German]. ,,You've got to be totally out of your mind. Everything will have been looked over by then, and all you'll get will be scraps and junk," I said quite outraged. But that's how it was going to be; the tree was not going to be bought before Christmas Eve. I'd say that was a matter of five minutes to twelve.
Already sometime earlier I had put at the ready the ball ornaments, the tinsel and the Christmas tree stand. It was nearly one o'clock when the three of them arrived with the tree. Well, I'm not the type of person who likes to put things off till the next day. Unfortunately, my husband is a 100 percent of the mañana-type. ,,Take a look at it at least," he said hesitantly [in German]. "Let's first have some food. I have heated up some knackwursts, and we'll have potato salad with it,'' I replied, rather peeved. "Mom, it smells so yummy of kale. Can I have some of it?'' Diether begged [in German]. ,,The kale hasn't finished cooking yet. We'll have it tonight, son. You know that. I've taken my Altes Land ways to Schleswig-Holstein.'' After we had eaten I followed them outside and took a look at the tree. Good gracious! Why, that was no Christmas tree! It was a cripple! My insides began to boil. No, they were boiling over. "Good God! It has two tops! Where did you have your eyes? Hit the road and exchange that atrocity right now!" I was getting the rage off my soul. "I won't be able to exchange it. They've closed down long ago. So the thing with the two tops isn't great. But the other trees were so small and puny," I got as a reply [in German]. "You've got to be crazy to come dragging a misshapen tree like this in here." I was livid to the umpteenth degree. "So it isn't a beautiful tree, but I can saw off one of the tops," my husband said all hurt. "Now you want to change it into a crooked tree as well? Forget sawing it off! See to it that you get it onto a stand (at last), and you and the boys can trim it! I've got more than enough things to do in the kitchen. It'll be two soon, so I'll first have to nurse our little girl," I proclaimed curtly.
It's going to be Christmas," I tried to calm myself down, "'Peace on Earth and Joy to Mankind,' the angels had sung in the Holy Night when Jesus was born. Now you grant peace as well," I admonished myself. "Anger affects the milk," my Mom used to say. "Our little doll shouldn't have to suffer because of the strive, or else she'll be crying throughout Christmas Eve," I argued with myself.
When the tree was standing in the living room I still didn't like it, but I had to pretend I did because it was Christmas. It turned out to be a pleasant Christmas. All anger had been forgotten when on Christmas Day a lusciously brown roast goose was on the table in our very own house. How rich we were! The wood made cracking sounds in the stove, we had food to eat, and we did not have to be cold.
On those days, namely between Christmas and New Year, my cousin Erich and his children came to visit us. When he took a look at our Christmas tree he said dryly [in German], "Are you aware of the fact that your tree has two tops" I started laughing loudly. At last I was able to laugh about the tree. I told Erich about our domestic strive on Christmas Eve 1951, a strive that had dissolved when I was reading the Christmas story.
Never again did my husband buy a Christmas tree by himself. Beginning with 1952 I had to accompany him. I know very well why: obviously I had berated him too much. Now the children have left the house, but, even though we are old, a Christmas tree has been getting us into the Christmas mood year after year. Just we won't buy it on Christmas Eve. I insist on that.
Transliteration in Lowlands Orthography: Winachten 1951
fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Kristmaand 1994)Nii nich fergeet ik dat Kristfest 1951 [negentain hunnerd ein-un-foeftig]. Uns eirsdes Winachtsfest in uns eigen huus. Sues jaar naa d'n boysen kriig dei uns allens materielle namen aver de hauptsaak, heile knaken un 'n klaren kop, laten har. D'n 28. [acht-un-twintigsden] April 1951 suend wii uut dat Olde Land naa Harshai trokken. Hev mii in miin arm knepen uem mii tou euvertuygen of ik ouk nich droymen dee as mii de suen op d'n froystueksdisch schiin. Har ik doch fiiv jaar in 'n kellerkeuk aan daglicht schirwarkd. Woyr 'n schoynen sommer, 1951. Tou end August het Adebaar touwass broecht. Uns jungs kregen 'n luette suester un wii 'n dochder op dei wii al lang toyvd harren.
Naa 'n gulden hars woyr ganss lisen de Adventstiid in uns huus huepd -- in uns eigen huus, nich tou fergeten. Haitsung geev dat noch nich. Bii d'n huuskoup stuend in de keuk soo 'n olden kanonen-aven. Al foer unsen intoug woyr hei uut-wesseld un 'n smukken gas-kolenheird stuend in de keuk. Sommerdag weurd' op d'n gas- un winterdag op d'n kolenheird kaakd. Uns leven speel sik in de keuk af. Wen besoyk koym gueng dat in de doenss. Mit de Adventstiid enner sik dat aver. Naa dat Middag-eten weurd' de doenss warm maakd. De Adventskranss stuend merden op d'n disch. Pletten har ik mit miin jungs bakd, un Winachtsruuch troek doerch dat gansse huus.
Winachten koym uemmer noyger, un uemmer noch woyr kein dannenboum daar. ,,Heinz, wann gedenkst du eigentlich einen Tannenbaum zu holen?'' waag' ik d'n 4. [feirden] Advent miin Mann tou fragen. ,,Keine Sorge. Das habe ich mir schon überlegt. Den hole ich mit Diether und Heiner am Heiligenabend. Dann werden sie billiger zum Schluss'', woyr siin anter. ,,Duu buest jaa wul ganss un gaar fun Got ferlaten. Den ist doch allens uut-soechd. Krigst doch bloots noch uut-schot un af-fal'', entruest ik mii. Dat bleev' aver daar bii: de boum weurd' eirst Hillig Avend koefd. Muyg seggen dat woyr fiiv minuten foer twoelv.
De kugeln, dat lametta, un d'n dannenboumfout har ik al lang praat steld. De klok woyr bald ein as de drei mit d'n boum an-koymen. Nuu buen ik kein minsch dei geirn allens op d'n tou-kamen dag ferschuben dait. Laider Gots is miin man 'n hunnerd-protsentigen ,,Morgenminsch''. ,,Guck ihn dir doch wenigstens einmal an'', see hei toygerlich. ,,Laat uns man eirst wat eten. Hev knakwuess heit maakd, un kutueffelsalaat givt dat daar tou'', anter ik teimlich grandessig. ,,Mutti, es riecht so gut nach Grünkohl. Kann ich davon bitte etwas haben?'' beddel miin Diether. ,,De groynkohl is noch nich farrig. D'n givt dat huyt avend, miin jung. Dat weitst duu doch. Ollanner aard hev ik mit-namen naa Sleswig-Hulstein''. As wii uns eten weg harren buen ik mit ruut un hev mii d'n boum an-keken. Duu leive tiid! Dat woyr doch kein dannenboum! Dat woyr 'n krueppel! Miin binnerst fueng an tou kaken; nee, dat kook al euver: ,,Miin Got! Dei het jaa twei spitsen! Wouneem hest duu diin ougen bloots hat? Gaa fourts loos un tuusch dat maloyr uem'', baller ik mii de wuut fun de seil. ,,Den kann ich doch nicht tauschen. Die haben doch längst Schluss gemacht. Das mit den zwei Spitzen ist nicht schön, aber die anderen waren so klein und mickerig'', kreeg' ik tou hoyren. ,,Dii het jaa wul de doyvel reden mii soo'n kroypeligen boum an tou slepen''. In raasch woyr ik, un dat nich wenig. ,,Es ist kein schöner Baum, aber ich kann ja die eine Spitze absägen'', see miin man ganss bedroevd. ,,Wult nuu ouk noch 'n scheiven boum daar fun maken? Niks wardt af-saagd. Seeg' tou dat duu em endlich op 'n fout krigst, un pluenner em mit de jungs an! Ik hev noug in de keuk tou doun. De klok is jaa gliiks al twei. Den muet ik eirst uns luet an de boss leggen'', geev' ik kotboessig tou ferstaan.
,,Wardt Winachten'', beswicht ik mii, ,, ,Freden op de eird' un de minschen ein woolgefallen', hebt de engels in de Hillige Nacht sungen as Jesus boren woyrd'. Nuu geev' duu ouk freden'', maan ik mii. ,,Arger slait op de melk'', het Mamma uemmer segd. ,,Uns luet pop schal doch nich uenner d'n unfreden liden; suenst blart sei sachs d'n ganssen Hillig Avend'', geev' ik mii suelvst tou bedinken.
As nuu de boum in de doenss stuend hev ik em uemmer noch nich liden muygd, aver ik muess jaa soo doun as of doch, wiil Winachten woyr. Suend schoyne Winachtsdaag' wodden. Al de arger woyr fergeten as d'n eirsden Winachtsdag de goosbraden knakkig bruun op d'n disch stuend in uns eigen huus. Wat woyren wii riik! Dat hult knak in d'n aven, wii harren tou eten un bruken nich tou freiren.
Twueschen de daag' -- dat is de tiid twueschen Winachten un Neijaar -- koym miin fetter Erich uut Quickborn mit siin kinder uns tou besoyken. As hei unsen dannenboum an-keek mein hei ganss droyg': ,,Wisst ihr eigentlich, dass euer Baum zwei Spitzen hat?'' Luuthals fueng ik an tou lachen. Endlich kun ik euver d'n boum lachen. Hev Erich ferteld fun d'n scheiven huussegen dei an d'n Hillig Avend 1951 euver uns sweevd het, dei aver ferswuend as ik de Winachtsgeschicht leesd har.
Allein het miin man nii nich meir 'n dannenboum koefd. Siit 1952 [negentain hunnerd twei-un-foeftig] muet ik mit. Wouruem weit ik ganss nau: ik har wul tou feel mit em ruem-kweesd. Nuu suend de kinder uut d'n huus. Wen wii ouk old suend, 'n dannenboum het uns noch jaar foer jaar op Winachten in-stimd. Bloots an Hillig Avend wardt hei nich meir koefd. Daar geev' ik kein rou.
English translation by R. F. Hahn: Christmas 1951
by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(December 1994)I'll never forget Christmas 1951, our first Christmas in our own house, six years after the awful war that had robbed us of all material things but had left us the main things: ["whole/healthy bones" =] our health and a clear head. On the 28th of April 1961 we moved from the Altes Land to Harksheide [both areas near Hamburg]. I had to pinch myself [in the arm] to convince myself that I wasn't dreaming when the sun shone onto the breakfast table for me. After all, for five years I used to do my chores in a basement kitchen without daylight. We had a lovely summer in 1951. The stork had brought a family addition at the end of August. Our boys got a little sister, and we got a daughter for whom we had waited for a long time.
Quietly the advent season had arrived in our house after a golden autumn -- in our own house, mind you. There was no [central] heating at that time. When we bought the house there was one of those old cast iron stoves. It was exchanged even before we moved in, and beautiful gas- and coal-burning stoves were standing in the kitchen. We cooked on the gas-burning stove in the summertime and on the coal-burning one in the wintertime. We used to live our lives in the kitchen. We used to use the living room when we had visitors. But this used to change for the advent season. After lunch we would heat up the living room. The advent wreath would be standing in the middle of the table. Our boys and I would have baked some cookies, and the aroma of Christmas would waft through the whole house.
Christmas was getting closer and closer, and still there was no Christmas tree. ,,By the way, Heinz, when do you plan to get a Christmas tree?'' I dared to ask my husband [in German] on the fourth Sunday of Advent. "Don't worry. I've thought about it. Diether, Heiner and I will get it on Christmas Eve. They'll be cheaper then, just before closing," he answered [in German]. ,,You've got to be totally out of your mind. Everything will have been looked over by then, and all you'll get will be scraps and junk," I said quite outraged. But that's how it was going to be; the tree was not going to be bought before Christmas Eve. I'd say that was a matter of five minutes to twelve.
Already sometime earlier I had put at the ready the ball ornaments, the tinsel and the Christmas tree stand. It was nearly one o'clock when the three of them arrived with the tree. Well, I'm not the type of person who likes to put things off till the next day. Unfortunately, my husband is a 100 percent of the mañana-type. ,,Take a look at it at least," he said hesitantly [in German]. "Let's first have some food. I have heated up some knackwursts, and we'll have potato salad with it,'' I replied, rather peeved. "Mom, it smells so yummy of kale. Can I have some of it?'' Diether begged [in German]. ,,The kale hasn't finished cooking yet. We'll have it tonight, son. You know that. I've taken my Altes Land ways to Schleswig-Holstein.'' After we had eaten I followed them outside and took a look at the tree. Good gracious! Why, that was no Christmas tree! It was a cripple! My insides began to boil. No, they were boiling over. "Good God! It has two tops! Where did you have your eyes? Hit the road and exchange that atrocity right now!" I was getting the rage off my soul. "I won't be able to exchange it. They've closed down long ago. So the thing with the two tops isn't great. But the other trees were so small and puny," I got as a reply [in German]. "You've got to be crazy to come dragging a misshapen tree like this in here." I was livid to the umpteenth degree. "So it isn't a beautiful tree, but I can saw off one of the tops," my husband said all hurt. "Now you want to change it into a crooked tree as well? Forget sawing it off! See to it that you get it onto a stand (at last), and you and the boys can trim it! I've got more than enough things to do in the kitchen. It'll be two soon, so I'll first have to nurse our little girl," I proclaimed curtly.
It's going to be Christmas," I tried to calm myself down, "'Peace on Earth and Joy to Mankind,' the angels had sung in the Holy Night when Jesus was born. Now you grant peace as well," I admonished myself. "Anger affects the milk," my Mom used to say. "Our little doll shouldn't have to suffer because of the strive, or else she'll be crying throughout Christmas Eve," I argued with myself.
When the tree was standing in the living room I still didn't like it, but I had to pretend I did because it was Christmas. It turned out to be a pleasant Christmas. All anger had been forgotten when on Christmas Day a lusciously brown roast goose was on the table in our very own house. How rich we were! The wood made cracking sounds in the stove, we had food to eat, and we did not have to be cold.
On those days, namely between Christmas and New Year, my cousin Erich and his children came to visit us. When he took a look at our Christmas tree he said dryly [in German], "Are you aware of the fact that your tree has two tops" I started laughing loudly. At last I was able to laugh about the tree. I told Erich about our domestic strive on Christmas Eve 1951, a strive that had dissolved when I was reading the Christmas story.
Never again did my husband buy a Christmas tree by himself. Beginning with 1952 I had to accompany him. I know very well why: obviously I had berated him too much. Now the children have left the house, but, even though we are old, a Christmas tree has been getting us into the Christmas mood year after year. Just we won't buy it on Christmas Eve. I insist on that.