Papa’s Birthday

                  My father would have turned 84 today. He was born in late spring 1940 in the old university town of Marburg/Lahn in Germany. At the time, World War II was gaining traction in Europe. It was a precarious time in history.

                  The citizens of Marburg were subjected to nightly bombing raids by allied aircraft and one of Papa’s earliest memories was of running with his mother and sister to the bomb shelter several blocks down the street. It was in that shelter where my father met his best friend — a friendship born in uncertainty, but one that would last a lifetime.

        During the nightly air strikes, the allies destroyed the train station but were careful to steer clear of ancient landmarks such as the Schloss (castle) on the hill and the Elizabeth church. Both buildings were well over 700 years old.

                  Papa was 5 years old when the war ended and his father came home from fighting the Russians in the east. My grandmother introduced Papa to his father, a man he had never met, for the very first time. In typical five-year-old fashion, Papa said, “Hi!” Then he ran back to the impromptu soccer game he and friends were playing.

                  Papa was also a great example of the American Dream. He came to the US with my mom after their marriage in Germany. Papa quickly went to work and learned how to install and service scales. Scales, like the ones used to weigh produce and meat at the supermarket. He later graduated to larger industrial and truck scales. When I was finishing Jr. high school, Papa and two other men started their own company. It eventually became a lucrative business making it so he could retire a few years early. He worked hard and made his way.

                  In 2010 Papa started showing signs of dementia and was later diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. His mind slowly deteriorated and in November 2019 he passed away. Papa was never picky about where his remains would go. He and my mom had agreed they wanted to be buried where they died. In his case it was Winston Salem, NC.

                  I know yesterday was Mother’s Day and I didn’t forget it. My mom and I made a trip to Burlington, Vermont where she was born and spent the first nine years of her life.

                  May 13 is Papa’s birthday and I thought it would be nice to focus on him. We would have made a cake and given him a few presents. We may have even taken him to a baseball game. Maybe my mom and I can do that tomorrow. Today, I’m on a plane traveling home from giving a report to a supporting church. I would rather have cake and a game at the ballpark.