Een Winterdag

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Iesmoond 1999)

Mol gau 70 Johr trüchkieken un mit hüüt verglieken. Verglieken? Geiht gor nich, to veel hett sik verännert. Is ditt Verännern nu to'n Goden ween? Is uns nich ok veel verloorn gohn? Wenn 'k an mien Kinnertiet dink, hebbt wi veel sleten. Löcker in de Iesblomen pussen, üm to sehn ob Fründin Irene al kummt to'n ,,Minsch arger di nich'' speeln, or wokeen dor mit Peer, Sleden un veel Klocken vörbirüscht. Dat gifft dat nich mihr. De gräsige, lange Weg no Tante Meier dörch Ies un Snee, Gott wees Dank, den gifft dat ok nich mihr. Wi sitt kommodig un warm op uns WC un joogt godet Drinkwoter achterran. Kookt warrt mit Stroom or Gas in een warme Köök, woneem dat keen Iesblomen mihr an de Finsterruten gifft. Will mol vun so een Winterdag in mien Kinnertiet vertelln.

Wi seten in de Köök an unsen Middagsdisch. Iesblomen blinkern an de Finsterruten. Winterdag 1928/1929 bi 20-30 Grood Küll. Dörch dat Koken in de Köök füngen de Iesblomen an to smülten. Op de Finsterbank legen Handdeuker, de dat Smültwoter opsugen dän. Uns Mamma schirrwark noch an den Hierd rüm. Een Rüken tröck dörch dat ganse Huus, datt wi de Mohltiet kuum afteuben kunn. Steekreuben mit Swiensbuuk harr Mamma in'n Putt to Füür.

Nu wüür't so wiet. Mamma schütt de Steekreuben in een grote Kumm. För jedeen leeg een Schiev Speck bobenop un för unsen Pappa twee. Dorto geev dat Sultkutüffeln. Dörch dat Dampen op'n Disch daun de Iesblomen gau rünner. Uns hett dat Eten ümmer good smeckt. Wi wüürn nich verweuhnt, ober uns Mudder wüür ok een besünners gode Kööksch. Mien Süster Gertrud un ik müssen afwaschen. In dat Afwaschwoter keum een Stück Sodo. Dat Afwaschwoter wöör nich wegschütt. Dormit wöör dat Schroot för de Swien sobends anrührt.

Mamma wüür dorbi, den groten Kacheloben in de Dööns antobeuten. De Oben reck bet an de Deek. Bet wi de Köök kloor harrn, wüür uns Dööns mollig warm. In de Piep prütteln Brodtappeln. Warrer tröck een Rüken dörch dat ganse Huus.

Dingsdoogs keum de Stutenfro Leno Lorenz mit ehr Stutenkörf. Se harr een Dracht op'n Puckel, un an de Sieden hüngen de groten Körf. In Störm, Ies un Snee, Leno wüür ümmer to rechten Tiet to Steed. Bi uns keum se nomiddoogs halbig dree an. Mamma harr denn ok Kaffe för ehr proot. Wi Kinner kregen "Kathreiners Malzkaffee". Dat Geld wüür dormools, to Tiet vun de Weltwirtschuppskries, allenthalben knapp. Liekers hett Mamma Leno ümmer wat afköfft. Foken sä Mamma to uns: ,,Leno mütt sik ehr poor Plück suur verdeen''. Tweeback, Kaffebroot mit Guss or mit Hogelzucker, Amerikoners, Berliners un Heetwicken harr se in ehr groten Körf. Dat hett uns smeckt, dat gläuvt mi sachs keeneen - beter as de beste Slagrohmtort' hüüttodoogs. No ungefiehr 20 Minuten meuk se sik warrer op'n Padd. Ruut in de Küll! Wohrrafdig, se hett sik ehr Broot swoor verdeent. Süßtig Johr harr se tominnst al op'n Puckel.

Tjer, wenn een de Johrn footkriegt, denn geiht dat Besinn fokenins trüch in de Kinnertiet. Ole Biller warrt lebennig un stoht to'n Anfoten vör een. Iesblomen an de Finsterruten kinnt wi hüüt nich mihr. Dörch de Technik is uns veel verloorngohn. Mien Kinnertiet wüür scheun, un ik müch nich een Dag missen.

A Winter's Day

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(February 1999)

Let's take a look back 70 years, and let's compare things with the way they are today. Compare? Impossible; too much has changed. Are these changes for the better? Did we not also lose a lot? Whenever I think about my childhood, I realize that we have forfeited a lot: blowing holes into the ice ferns to see if girlfriend Irene is coming over for a game of pachisi, or to see who it is that is rushing by with horses, sleigh and many bells. That's all history. So is the awful, long way through ice and snow to the john. Thank goodness! We sit on the water closet and then flush with good drinking water. We use electricity or gas to do our cooking in warm kitchens on whose windowpanes there are no longer any ice ferns. Let me tell you about such a winter's day in my childhood.

We would be sitting in the kitchen at our lunch table. Ice ferns would be glistening on the windowpanes. A winter's day in 1928/1929 with 20-30 degrees below freezing [i.e., -4 - -22 degrees Fahrenheit]. The ice ferns would begin to melt because of the cooking. Towels would be lying on the windowsill to absorb the molten ice. Our mom would be still busy working at the stove. An aroma would be wafting through the house that we could hardly wait for our meal. Rutabagas with pork belly is what Mom had there in the pot on the fire.

The time had come. Mom poured the rutabagas into a large bowl. On top of it she put one piece of bacon for each person and two for our dad. With this we had boiled potatoes. Because of the steam emanating from the table, the ice ferns melted away quickly. We always enjoyed our food. We were not spoilt and picky, but our mother was also an especially good cook. My sister Gertrud and I had to do the dishes. We'd put a piece of soda in the dishwater. We wouldn't throw away the dishwater. We'd mix it with the feed grain for the pigs in the evening.

Mom would be busy lighting a fire in the large tiled stove in the living room. The stove reached all the way up to the ceiling. Our living room would be nice and toasty by the time we'd be done with the kitchen. Baked apples would be sizzling in the oven. Once again a lovely aroma would be wafting through the whole house.

On Tuesdays, the bread lady Lena Lorenz would come by with her baked goods. She'd have a carrying contraption over her shoulders, and the large baskets would be hanging down on either side. Storm, ice or snow, Lena was always there on time. She'd be at our place at half past two in the afternoon. Mom would have some coffee ready for her. We children would get some "Kathrainers Malzkaffee" [a caffeine-free grain drink]. Money was scarce everywhere at that time, during the global economic depression. Still, Mom would always buy something from Lena. Oftentimes Mom would say to us, "Lena earns her few pennies the hard way." In her large baskets there would be rusk, coffee bread with icing or with coarse-grained sugar, sugar biscuits with icing, doughnuts, and raisin rolls. It may be hard to believe nowadays, but we enjoyed it better than cream gateau these days. About twenty minutes later she'd be on her way again. Out into the cold weather! Really. She earned her keep the hard way. She must have been sixty if she was a day.

Well, yes, when you get up there in age your thoughts often return to your childhood. Old pictures come back to life, and you see them so clearly as if you could touch them. These days we don't know ice ferns on the windowpanes. We lost much due to technology. My childhood was lovely, I wouldn't want to miss a day of it.

'n Winter-dag

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Iismaand 1999)

Maal gau 70 [seuventig] jaar trueg-kiken un mit huyt fergliken. Fergliken? Gait gaar nich; tou feel het sik ferennerd. Is dit ferennern nuu tou d'n gouden ween? Is uns nich ouk feel ferloren gaan? Wen 'k an miin kinder-tiid dink, hebbt wii feel sleten: loekker in de iis-bloumen pussen, uem tou seien of fruendin Irene al kuemt to d'n ,,Minsch arger dii nich'' spelen, or wou kein daar mit peird', sleden un feel klokken foer bii ruyscht. Dat givt dat nich meir. De gresige, lange weg naa Tante Meier doerch iis un snei -- Got wees dank! -- den givt dat ouk nich meir. Wii sitt kommodig un warm op uns WC [wee tsee] un jaagt goudet drinkwater achter ran. Kaakd wardt mit stroom or gas in 'n warme keuk, wou neem dat kein iis-bloumen meir an de finster-ruten givt. Wil maal fun soo 'n winter-dag in miin kinder-tiid fertellen.

Wi seten in de keuk an unsen middags-disch. Iis-bloumen blinkern an de finster-ruten. Winter-dag 1928/1929 [negentain hunnerd acht un twintig / negen un twintig] bi 20-30 [twintig bet doertig] graad kuel. Doerch dat kaken in de keuk fuengen dei is-bloumen an tou smuelten. Op de finster-bank legen hand-doyker dei dat smuelt-water op-sugen deen. Uns Mamma schirwark noch an d'n heird ruem. 'n Ruyken troek doerch dat gansse huus dat wii de maaltiid kuum af-toyven kunnen. Steek-royven mit swiinsbuuk har Mamma in 'n put tou fuyr.

Nuu woyr 't soo wiid. Mamma schuet de steek-royven in 'n grote kum. Foer jeid ein leeg ein schiiv' spek baven op un foer unsen Pappa twei. Daartou geev dat sult-kuttueffeln. Doerch dat dampen op d'n disch dauen de iis-bloumen gau ruenner. Uns het dat eten uemmer goud smekd. Wii woyren nich ferwoynd, aver uns mudder woyr ouk 'n besuenners goude keuksch. Miin suester Gertrud un ik muessen af-waschen. In dat afwasch-water koym 'n stuek soda. Dat afwasch-water woyr nich weg-schuett. Daarmit woyr dat schroot foer de swiin 's avends an-royrd.

Mamma woyr daar bii d'n groten kachel-aven in de deunss an tou boyten. De aven rek bet an de deek. Bet wii de keuk klaar harren woyr uns deunss mollig warm. In de piip pruetteln braad-appeln. Warrer troek 'n ruyken doerch dat gansse huus.

Dingsdaags koym de stuten-frou Lena Lorenz mit er stuten-koerf. Se har 'n dracht op d'n pukkel, un an de siden huengen de groten koerf. In stoerm, iis un snei, Lena woyr uemmer tou rechten tiid tou steed'. Bii uns koym sei naa-middaags halvig drei an. Mamma har den ouk kaffe foer er praat. Wii kinder kregen "Kathrainers Malzkaffee". Dat geld woyr daarmaals, tou tiid fun de weltwirtschups-kriis', allenthalven knap. Likers het Mamma Lena uemmer wat af-koefd. Faken see Mamma tou uns: ,,Leno muett sik er paar pluek suur ferdeinen.'' Tweibak, kaffe-brood mit guss or mit hagel-tsukker, amerikaners, berliners un heit-wikken har sei in er groten koerf. Dat het uns smekd -- dat gloyvt mii sachs kein ein -- beter as de besde slag-raam-tort huyt tou daags. Naa ungefeir 20 [twintig] minuten moyk sei sik warrer op d'n pad. Ruut in de kuel! Waarrafdig. Sei het sik er brood swaar ferdeind. Suestig jaar har sei tou minsd al op d'n pukkel.

Tjer, wen 'n de jaarn faat kriigt, den gait dat besinnen faken ins trueg in de kinder-tiid. Olde bilder wardt lebennig un staat to d'n an-faten foer ein. Iis-bloumen an de finster-ruten kint wii huyt nich meir. Doerch de technik is uns feel ferloren gaan. Miin kindertiid woyr schoyn, un ik muech nich ein dag missen.

A Winter's Day

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(February 1999)

Let's take a look back 70 years, and let's compare things with the way they are today. Compare? Impossible; too much has changed. Are these changes for the better? Did we not also lose a lot? Whenever I think about my childhood, I realize that we have forfeited a lot: blowing holes into the ice ferns to see if girlfriend Irene is coming over for a game of pachisi, or to see who it is that is rushing by with horses, sleigh and many bells. That's all history. So is the awful, long way through ice and snow to the john. Thank goodness! We sit on the water closet and then flush with good drinking water. We use electricity or gas to do our cooking in warm kitchens on whose windowpanes there are no longer any ice ferns. Let me tell you about such a winter's day in my childhood.

We would be sitting in the kitchen at our lunch table. Ice ferns would be glistening on the windowpanes. A winter's day in 1928/1929 with 20-30 degrees below freezing [i.e., -4 - -22 degrees Fahrenheit]. The ice ferns would begin to melt because of the cooking. Towels would be lying on the windowsill to absorb the molten ice. Our mom would be still busy working at the stove. An aroma would be wafting through the house that we could hardly wait for our meal. Rutabagas with pork belly is what Mom had there in the pot on the fire.

The time had come. Mom poured the rutabagas into a large bowl. On top of it she put one piece of bacon for each person and two for our dad. With this we had boiled potatoes. Because of the steam emanating from the table, the ice ferns melted away quickly. We always enjoyed our food. We were not spoilt and picky, but our mother was also an especially good cook. My sister Gertrud and I had to do the dishes. We'd put a piece of soda in the dishwater. We wouldn't throw away the dishwater. We'd mix it with the feed grain for the pigs in the evening.

Mom would be busy lighting a fire in the large tiled stove in the living room. The stove reached all the way up to the ceiling. Our living room would be nice and toasty by the time we'd be done with the kitchen. Baked apples would be sizzling in the oven. Once again a lovely aroma would be wafting through the whole house.

On Tuesdays, the bread lady Lena Lorenz would come by with her baked goods. She'd have a carrying contraption over her shoulders, and the large baskets would be hanging down on either side. Storm, ice or snow, Lena was always there on time. She'd be at our place at half past two in the afternoon. Mom would have some coffee ready for her. We children would get some "Kathrainers Malzkaffee" [a caffeine-free grain drink]. Money was scarce everywhere at that time, during the global economic depression. Still, Mom would always buy something from Lena. Oftentimes Mom would say to us, "Lena earns her few pennies the hard way." In her large baskets there would be rusk, coffee bread with icing or with coarse-grained sugar, sugar biscuits with icing, doughnuts, and raisin rolls. It may be hard to believe nowadays, but we enjoyed it better than cream gateau these days. About twenty minutes later she'd be on her way again. Out into the cold weather! Really. She earned her keep the hard way. She must have been sixty if she was a day.

Well, yes, when you get up there in age your thoughts often return to your childhood. Old pictures come back to life, and you see them so clearly as if you could touch them. These days we don't know ice ferns on the windowpanes. We lost much due to technology. My childhood was lovely, I wouldn't want to miss a day of it.

Een Winterdag

vun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Iesmoond 1999)

Mol gau 70 Johr trüchkieken un mit hüüt verglieken. Verglieken? Geiht gor nich, to veel hett sik verännert. Is ditt Verännern nu to'n Goden ween? Is uns nich ok veel verloorn gohn? Wenn 'k an mien Kinnertiet dink, hebbt wi veel sleten. Löcker in de Iesblomen pussen, üm to sehn ob Fründin Irene al kummt to'n ,,Minsch arger di nich'' speeln, or wokeen dor mit Peer, Sleden un veel Klocken vörbirüscht. Dat gifft dat nich mihr. De gräsige, lange Weg no Tante Meier dörch Ies un Snee, Gott wees Dank, den gifft dat ok nich mihr. Wi sitt kommodig un warm op uns WC un joogt godet Drinkwoter achterran. Kookt warrt mit Stroom or Gas in een warme Köök, woneem dat keen Iesblomen mihr an de Finsterruten gifft. Will mol vun so een Winterdag in mien Kinnertiet vertelln.

Wi seten in de Köök an unsen Middagsdisch. Iesblomen blinkern an de Finsterruten. Winterdag 1928/1929 bi 20-30 Grood Küll. Dörch dat Koken in de Köök füngen de Iesblomen an to smülten. Op de Finsterbank legen Handdeuker, de dat Smültwoter opsugen dän. Uns Mamma schirrwark noch an den Hierd rüm. Een Rüken tröck dörch dat ganse Huus, datt wi de Mohltiet kuum afteuben kunn. Steekreuben mit Swiensbuuk harr Mamma in'n Putt to Füür.

Nu wüür't so wiet. Mamma schütt de Steekreuben in een grote Kumm. För jedeen leeg een Schiev Speck bobenop un för unsen Pappa twee. Dorto geev dat Sultkutüffeln. Dörch dat Dampen op'n Disch daun de Iesblomen gau rünner. Uns hett dat Eten ümmer good smeckt. Wi wüürn nich verweuhnt, ober uns Mudder wüür ok een besünners gode Kööksch. Mien Süster Gertrud un ik müssen afwaschen. In dat Afwaschwoter keum een Stück Sodo. Dat Afwaschwoter wöör nich wegschütt. Dormit wöör dat Schroot för de Swien sobends anrührt.

Mamma wüür dorbi, den groten Kacheloben in de Dööns antobeuten. De Oben reck bet an de Deek. Bet wi de Köök kloor harrn, wüür uns Dööns mollig warm. In de Piep prütteln Brodtappeln. Warrer tröck een Rüken dörch dat ganse Huus.

Dingsdoogs keum de Stutenfro Leno Lorenz mit ehr Stutenkörf. Se harr een Dracht op'n Puckel, un an de Sieden hüngen de groten Körf. In Störm, Ies un Snee, Leno wüür ümmer to rechten Tiet to Steed. Bi uns keum se nomiddoogs halbig dree an. Mamma harr denn ok Kaffe för ehr proot. Wi Kinner kregen "Kathreiners Malzkaffee". Dat Geld wüür dormools, to Tiet vun de Weltwirtschuppskries, allenthalben knapp. Liekers hett Mamma Leno ümmer wat afköfft. Foken sä Mamma to uns: ,,Leno mütt sik ehr poor Plück suur verdeen''. Tweeback, Kaffebroot mit Guss or mit Hogelzucker, Amerikoners, Berliners un Heetwicken harr se in ehr groten Körf. Dat hett uns smeckt, dat gläuvt mi sachs keeneen - beter as de beste Slagrohmtort' hüüttodoogs. No ungefiehr 20 Minuten meuk se sik warrer op'n Padd. Ruut in de Küll! Wohrrafdig, se hett sik ehr Broot swoor verdeent. Süßtig Johr harr se tominnst al op'n Puckel.

Tjer, wenn een de Johrn footkriegt, denn geiht dat Besinn fokenins trüch in de Kinnertiet. Ole Biller warrt lebennig un stoht to'n Anfoten vör een. Iesblomen an de Finsterruten kinnt wi hüüt nich mihr. Dörch de Technik is uns veel verloorngohn. Mien Kinnertiet wüür scheun, un ik müch nich een Dag missen.

A Winter's Day

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(February 1999)

Let's take a look back 70 years, and let's compare things with the way they are today. Compare? Impossible; too much has changed. Are these changes for the better? Did we not also lose a lot? Whenever I think about my childhood, I realize that we have forfeited a lot: blowing holes into the ice ferns to see if girlfriend Irene is coming over for a game of pachisi, or to see who it is that is rushing by with horses, sleigh and many bells. That's all history. So is the awful, long way through ice and snow to the john. Thank goodness! We sit on the water closet and then flush with good drinking water. We use electricity or gas to do our cooking in warm kitchens on whose windowpanes there are no longer any ice ferns. Let me tell you about such a winter's day in my childhood.

We would be sitting in the kitchen at our lunch table. Ice ferns would be glistening on the windowpanes. A winter's day in 1928/1929 with 20-30 degrees below freezing [i.e., -4 - -22 degrees Fahrenheit]. The ice ferns would begin to melt because of the cooking. Towels would be lying on the windowsill to absorb the molten ice. Our mom would be still busy working at the stove. An aroma would be wafting through the house that we could hardly wait for our meal. Rutabagas with pork belly is what Mom had there in the pot on the fire.

The time had come. Mom poured the rutabagas into a large bowl. On top of it she put one piece of bacon for each person and two for our dad. With this we had boiled potatoes. Because of the steam emanating from the table, the ice ferns melted away quickly. We always enjoyed our food. We were not spoilt and picky, but our mother was also an especially good cook. My sister Gertrud and I had to do the dishes. We'd put a piece of soda in the dishwater. We wouldn't throw away the dishwater. We'd mix it with the feed grain for the pigs in the evening.

Mom would be busy lighting a fire in the large tiled stove in the living room. The stove reached all the way up to the ceiling. Our living room would be nice and toasty by the time we'd be done with the kitchen. Baked apples would be sizzling in the oven. Once again a lovely aroma would be wafting through the whole house.

On Tuesdays, the bread lady Lena Lorenz would come by with her baked goods. She'd have a carrying contraption over her shoulders, and the large baskets would be hanging down on either side. Storm, ice or snow, Lena was always there on time. She'd be at our place at half past two in the afternoon. Mom would have some coffee ready for her. We children would get some "Kathrainers Malzkaffee" [a caffeine-free grain drink]. Money was scarce everywhere at that time, during the global economic depression. Still, Mom would always buy something from Lena. Oftentimes Mom would say to us, "Lena earns her few pennies the hard way." In her large baskets there would be rusk, coffee bread with icing or with coarse-grained sugar, sugar biscuits with icing, doughnuts, and raisin rolls. It may be hard to believe nowadays, but we enjoyed it better than cream gateau these days. About twenty minutes later she'd be on her way again. Out into the cold weather! Really. She earned her keep the hard way. She must have been sixty if she was a day.

Well, yes, when you get up there in age your thoughts often return to your childhood. Old pictures come back to life, and you see them so clearly as if you could touch them. These days we don't know ice ferns on the windowpanes. We lost much due to technology. My childhood was lovely, I wouldn't want to miss a day of it.

'n Winter-dag

fun Clara Kramer-Freudenthal
(Iismaand 1999)

Maal gau 70 [seuventig] jaar trueg-kiken un mit huyt fergliken. Fergliken? Gait gaar nich; tou feel het sik ferennerd. Is dit ferennern nuu tou d'n gouden ween? Is uns nich ouk feel ferloren gaan? Wen 'k an miin kinder-tiid dink, hebbt wii feel sleten: loekker in de iis-bloumen pussen, uem tou seien of fruendin Irene al kuemt to d'n ,,Minsch arger dii nich'' spelen, or wou kein daar mit peird', sleden un feel klokken foer bii ruyscht. Dat givt dat nich meir. De gresige, lange weg naa Tante Meier doerch iis un snei -- Got wees dank! -- den givt dat ouk nich meir. Wii sitt kommodig un warm op uns WC [wee tsee] un jaagt goudet drinkwater achter ran. Kaakd wardt mit stroom or gas in 'n warme keuk, wou neem dat kein iis-bloumen meir an de finster-ruten givt. Wil maal fun soo 'n winter-dag in miin kinder-tiid fertellen.

Wi seten in de keuk an unsen middags-disch. Iis-bloumen blinkern an de finster-ruten. Winter-dag 1928/1929 [negentain hunnerd acht un twintig / negen un twintig] bi 20-30 [twintig bet doertig] graad kuel. Doerch dat kaken in de keuk fuengen dei is-bloumen an tou smuelten. Op de finster-bank legen hand-doyker dei dat smuelt-water op-sugen deen. Uns Mamma schirwark noch an d'n heird ruem. 'n Ruyken troek doerch dat gansse huus dat wii de maaltiid kuum af-toyven kunnen. Steek-royven mit swiinsbuuk har Mamma in 'n put tou fuyr.

Nuu woyr 't soo wiid. Mamma schuet de steek-royven in 'n grote kum. Foer jeid ein leeg ein schiiv' spek baven op un foer unsen Pappa twei. Daartou geev dat sult-kuttueffeln. Doerch dat dampen op d'n disch dauen de iis-bloumen gau ruenner. Uns het dat eten uemmer goud smekd. Wii woyren nich ferwoynd, aver uns mudder woyr ouk 'n besuenners goude keuksch. Miin suester Gertrud un ik muessen af-waschen. In dat afwasch-water koym 'n stuek soda. Dat afwasch-water woyr nich weg-schuett. Daarmit woyr dat schroot foer de swiin 's avends an-royrd.

Mamma woyr daar bii d'n groten kachel-aven in de deunss an tou boyten. De aven rek bet an de deek. Bet wii de keuk klaar harren woyr uns deunss mollig warm. In de piip pruetteln braad-appeln. Warrer troek 'n ruyken doerch dat gansse huus.

Dingsdaags koym de stuten-frou Lena Lorenz mit er stuten-koerf. Se har 'n dracht op d'n pukkel, un an de siden huengen de groten koerf. In stoerm, iis un snei, Lena woyr uemmer tou rechten tiid tou steed'. Bii uns koym sei naa-middaags halvig drei an. Mamma har den ouk kaffe foer er praat. Wii kinder kregen "Kathrainers Malzkaffee". Dat geld woyr daarmaals, tou tiid fun de weltwirtschups-kriis', allenthalven knap. Likers het Mamma Lena uemmer wat af-koefd. Faken see Mamma tou uns: ,,Leno muett sik er paar pluek suur ferdeinen.'' Tweibak, kaffe-brood mit guss or mit hagel-tsukker, amerikaners, berliners un heit-wikken har sei in er groten koerf. Dat het uns smekd -- dat gloyvt mii sachs kein ein -- beter as de besde slag-raam-tort huyt tou daags. Naa ungefeir 20 [twintig] minuten moyk sei sik warrer op d'n pad. Ruut in de kuel! Waarrafdig. Sei het sik er brood swaar ferdeind. Suestig jaar har sei tou minsd al op d'n pukkel.

Tjer, wen 'n de jaarn faat kriigt, den gait dat besinnen faken ins trueg in de kinder-tiid. Olde bilder wardt lebennig un staat to d'n an-faten foer ein. Iis-bloumen an de finster-ruten kint wii huyt nich meir. Doerch de technik is uns feel ferloren gaan. Miin kindertiid woyr schoyn, un ik muech nich ein dag missen.

A Winter's Day

by Clara Kramer-Freudenthal 
(February 1999)

Let's take a look back 70 years, and let's compare things with the way they are today. Compare? Impossible; too much has changed. Are these changes for the better? Did we not also lose a lot? Whenever I think about my childhood, I realize that we have forfeited a lot: blowing holes into the ice ferns to see if girlfriend Irene is coming over for a game of pachisi, or to see who it is that is rushing by with horses, sleigh and many bells. That's all history. So is the awful, long way through ice and snow to the john. Thank goodness! We sit on the water closet and then flush with good drinking water. We use electricity or gas to do our cooking in warm kitchens on whose windowpanes there are no longer any ice ferns. Let me tell you about such a winter's day in my childhood.

We would be sitting in the kitchen at our lunch table. Ice ferns would be glistening on the windowpanes. A winter's day in 1928/1929 with 20-30 degrees below freezing [i.e., -4 - -22 degrees Fahrenheit]. The ice ferns would begin to melt because of the cooking. Towels would be lying on the windowsill to absorb the molten ice. Our mom would be still busy working at the stove. An aroma would be wafting through the house that we could hardly wait for our meal. Rutabagas with pork belly is what Mom had there in the pot on the fire.

The time had come. Mom poured the rutabagas into a large bowl. On top of it she put one piece of bacon for each person and two for our dad. With this we had boiled potatoes. Because of the steam emanating from the table, the ice ferns melted away quickly. We always enjoyed our food. We were not spoilt and picky, but our mother was also an especially good cook. My sister Gertrud and I had to do the dishes. We'd put a piece of soda in the dishwater. We wouldn't throw away the dishwater. We'd mix it with the feed grain for the pigs in the evening.

Mom would be busy lighting a fire in the large tiled stove in the living room. The stove reached all the way up to the ceiling. Our living room would be nice and toasty by the time we'd be done with the kitchen. Baked apples would be sizzling in the oven. Once again a lovely aroma would be wafting through the whole house.

On Tuesdays, the bread lady Lena Lorenz would come by with her baked goods. She'd have a carrying contraption over her shoulders, and the large baskets would be hanging down on either side. Storm, ice or snow, Lena was always there on time. She'd be at our place at half past two in the afternoon. Mom would have some coffee ready for her. We children would get some "Kathrainers Malzkaffee" [a caffeine-free grain drink]. Money was scarce everywhere at that time, during the global economic depression. Still, Mom would always buy something from Lena. Oftentimes Mom would say to us, "Lena earns her few pennies the hard way." In her large baskets there would be rusk, coffee bread with icing or with coarse-grained sugar, sugar biscuits with icing, doughnuts, and raisin rolls. It may be hard to believe nowadays, but we enjoyed it better than cream gateau these days. About twenty minutes later she'd be on her way again. Out into the cold weather! Really. She earned her keep the hard way. She must have been sixty if she was a day.

Well, yes, when you get up there in age your thoughts often return to your childhood. Old pictures come back to life, and you see them so clearly as if you could touch them. These days we don't know ice ferns on the windowpanes. We lost much due to technology. My childhood was lovely, I wouldn't want to miss a day of it.