Moving On...

The new garden

another corner of the new garden

the stairwell with stained glass and wooden steps

an intersection about 10 seconds from my new front door

the street view from the front door

a front view of the house - the windows on the fourth floor (third for Europeans) are mine.

The house from the back

In one week my moving day arrives. The current apartment has two main shortcomings: very noisy outside, and mold on the east wall. And the management company is like a typical east German socialist "business" - do nothing fast and try to blame the tenant for everything.

The new apartment fits my personality much better - in an art nouveau house built 1902. Leipzig and Prague are the two cities with the most art nouveau architecture. If you remember much of the design of the Lord of the Rings movies, art nouveau elements played a central rôle there.

I could chose the colors of this newly renovated apartment: kitchen - apricot with terra cotta tile, my bedroom - sky blue, the hall - vanilla yellow, and the living room - a wine red bleached almost to white. Sebastian's room he just wanted white. The bath has anthracite tiles and old style white tiles. Being older, the ceilings are higher, and the living room has the old double windows and a rustic wood floor. I am on the top floor again, so more light and less noise comes in the windows.

And we have our own nice garden, as you see, with climbing roses, tulips, daffodils, grape vines, and several other local flowers I don't know yet. There is plenty of room for nice garden parties - afternoon tea on the lawn, or evening cooking out with wine or good German beer, and in the Waldstraßenviertel, where this is, there is a high concentration of top-notch restaurants and beer gardens, with the largest park, the Rosenthal, next door, and the zoo around the corner.

And when you move, you sort out and throw away many many things, so this is a purging experience also. Very ambivalent for me. And so a move is often like a transition to a new time in your life. I will see if this is true for me right now.

Red Roses for a Blue Lady

These aren't roses, but they are a beautiful red.

Do dreams tell us much? I think they can, especially if we have the same dream over and over again.

After the death of my father and grandmother within two weeks of each other I was plunged into the most difficult year of my life, but for my mother it was even more difficult; she had lost her own mother and husband of almost 40 years while her youngest son was on the other side of the world.

I saw red, and they were beautiful red roses, and a hand was lovingly arranging them while someone held this bouquet in their hand. As if it were a camera, the view began pulling back, and I saw that a woman was holding this giant bouquet of beautiful red roses, and she was wearing a festive dress - this was indeed a special occasion!

How happy I was for her, as I could then see she was wearing expensive high-heeled shoes like she always wore for special events, and I could hear majestic happy organ music flooding the room.

Now I could see more - it was a big church, and this lady, my mother, was standing at the front at the alter with her lovely bouquet of red roses. But wait, something is wrong..

the church is empty, and no one is standing at the alter - only a giant cross, and my mother is standing their crying buckets of tears flooding those red roses while the festive happy organ music plays on in this empty church.

This dream does not haunt me anymore.

The tears are gone, and now it is my turn to carry the roses and listen to the music.

A Long Holiday Weekend

The theatre where Bertold Brecht put on many of his works.
A view of central Berlin from the boat.
Now on land for that view.
The tv tower surrounded by cherry blossoms.
The Bode Museum on the Museum Island - a UNESCO protected island full of world-class museums.
The reading room in a café.
The Lenbach House - notice the detail on the porch.
The Bode Museum up closer. Astounding collections of art from the first 5 centuries of Christian art are also here.
A repair shop for very old woodwind instruments.

May 1 is a holiday here, so we have a long and sunny weekend ahead of us. I started it last evening with a long get together with the Danish director of a contact lens company I teach English for. After Thai food, a litre of beer, a little cognac, and then two cocktails, I still realize that I was not made for that kind of alcohol consumption. Since the evening started a 6:30 pm. and ended at almost 1 am., all the drinks were well spaced out so I wasn't spaced out. And I am glad I have nothing I have to do today.
I thought I would post a few more photos of the Berlin weekend - in case you never get there, this may give you a taste of the largest city between Paris and Moscow. Have a good weekend.

Photo Essay - a Berlin Weekend

Tram tracks lead to the tv tower in eastern Berlin on the Oranienburger Str.

Here is the view from our hotel room window - the Tempelhof airport.
Sebastian takes the cue from Buddha to meditate before currying...
....the French church at the Gendarmenmarkt
A detail from John chapter 4 of the French church at the Gendarmenmarkt
The impressive Gendarmenmarkt - my favorite square in Berlin
.... and in an inner courtyard you find artwork like this...
my coffee break in the afternoon on Sunday
the beautiful café where I enjoyed this coffee break.
a classic view of west Berlin - the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church in the background.
The Berlin Cathedral on the Spree River - here the Hohenzollerns, the royal family of Prussia, went to church...
The Cathedral from the other side with cherry blossoms.
the chancellor's quarters seen from a boat on the Spree River...
Our coffee break at La Fayette in the Friedrich Str. in central Berlin.
a self-photo at the Indian restaurant in Prenzlauer Berg.

Here is a photo update on my life. With wonderful weather, a weekend ago we took a 2-day trip to Berlin - 1 hour on the train and voilà, you're in Berlin. It was a peaceful yet fast-moving time; Berlin is so big that you have to keep moving fast to take anything in. The lemon tart at La Fayette was wonderful, and the boat ride on the Spree River was the first I have taken - worth the money. More details soon, but at the moment I have to get on - and get to bed! Sleep well...

Biking through Saxony on Easter Weekend

The beauty of Spring earlier this week - on the way back from Rötha and not too far from my apartment.
Such a beautiful public park in Markkleeberg...
A splendid mini-island to relax on...
This fellow watched us while we ate ice cream in Grimma
The Mulda River in Grimma
The bridge over the Mulda in Grimma
A main street in Grimma
Tobias and I at the ice cream café
Sebastian and Stefan across the table from Tobias and me.
The serene lake in Beucha.
A conference late Monday morning at the lake in Beucha.
From the tour on Friday - here in Rötha. You see our bikes in from of an art nouveau house.
A sculpture at Lake Störmthal.
Stefan about to deface this creation he ordered... in Rötha.
Lake Störmthal again: Stefan, Tobias, and Sebastian.
Stefan at Lake Störmthal.
Such nicely paved roads in the country - easy to ride a bike here.
Tobias and Sebastian resting at the café in Rötha.

This was my Easter weekend. In Germany Good Friday and the Monday after Easter Sunday are holidays, and in Germany holidays are "holy cows", so you are "doomed" to take it easy on such days, as we did in these photos above. The ride over Beucha, Naunhof, Grimma and Bad Lausick was 38 miles, or 60 kilometers, and sunshine the whole way. The trip to Rötha on Friday was a bit shorter but also sunny the whole time. Since I run regularly, I had no muscle problems, but the seat on my bike did leave me sore - I'm not used to sitting on a bike for over half a day!
It was so good to spend the day out in the sun, flowers, meadows, and fresh air on Good Friday and Easter Monday. I haven't lost any weight from all that biking, though - must have all gone to muscle - oh yeah....

I hope you have had a wonderful Easter weekend too.

Time stands still as the garment of our lives is torn beyond repair.

As time races by, remembrance keeps it standing still. In just a few hours I will remember how I came home from teaching all day on Monday, and in the late afternoon saw the message light blinking on my phone. I had a sick feeling already, and when I listened to the message, "This is the nurses' station, please call us as soon as possible," I started shaking all over. I have never known that kind of fear in my life. I knew I would be on a plane to Texas the next morning, but I had no idea what was about to happen. Within two hours I was speaking my last words to my mother via phone as my brother was at her side with many other friends, and my cousin and aunt were racing to the hospital.

I will never forget my last words to my mother. Somehow I kept my composure and made a quick summary of our life together and how we would continue it after a few years of separation now, and that when we see each other again we will never be separated again for all eternity. I said I envied her, that she was about to be back together with all our other family members forever and catch them up on everything we've been doing all these years.

This hope is stonger that a year ago, yet the fabric of our lives has been torn beyond repair in this life - a huge central section of the garment of my life has been ripped out, and my life testifies to this unrighteousness as it looks forward to setting right all of these wrongs.

Until then I hope this short slide show can do some honour to my dear mother. The choir is singing Psalm 130 of the Penitential Psalms from the late medieval German composer Orlando de Lasso. This is an excerpt of the choir in which I sung here in this city in Germany. As we sing of the depths from which we call to God to hear our voice, we know we all face this someday at death, when travel through the shadowy valley to be in that existence called "paradise".

Our mother always modeled God's unconditional love to her family. She was faithful and dedicated; nothing was too much for her when it concerned her family. As well as I knew her, I know she waits and waits now with our father and our grandparents for the garment of our lives to be finally repaired.

Please join me in thankful loving remembrance of a faithful loving Christian lady, wife, and mother whose smile always made the day brighter.

de profundis clamavi ad te Domine Domine exaudi vocem meam

Reconciliation fulfilled by the perfect death and then resurrection - the alter of the church in Bad Schandau
Spring flowers remind us of the gift of life

The last week has begun. One year ago in this week my mother's condition began deteriorating rapidly. When the pulmonary physician said to her, "I don't like your condition at all; you are too weak to take care of yourself. You have to go to a nursing home so others can take this burden off of you." She was crushed, and I was scrambling trying to figure out how to arrange admission to a reliable nursing home in her area. Even brushing her teeth wore her out, and when home health care noticed she was stumbling through the house and falling asleep at the table, they called the doctor to arrange her immediate admission to the hospital for tests. And so she walked out of her house she had lived in since 1964, not knowing she would never see it again.

I loved (and still do) to climb trees. When I was three I was in the back yard one morning climbing and went too far - so far that I couldn't go back out of fear, so I though I would drop down on the ground. I was hanging there by my fingers when I looked down and realized it was too far to drop, so I started yelling for my mother to come. Quickly she ran out - dressed for work in her smart skirt, hose, high heels, etc., and there I was saying she had to catch me when I let go. After some discussion I finally let go and she caught me, but she never let me know how scared she was during that whole event. But that was more than my mother standing there catching me. Jesus' words on the cross were the same: "into your hands I commend my spirit." These were his words to his father, our father, who never lets us down. She'll catch me again when I see her next time.

in loving memory of another grandfather

On this day in 1977 my paternal grandfather passed away. He had been virtually bed-ridden since a major stroke paralysed his right side in 1969, I believe. My grandmother and my father, with his two brothers, always helped take care of him at their home in Hearne in Texas. Since he was born in 1891, he was quite old and always seemed to already be halfway out of this life for me. Since I was so young, I never had the chance to get to know him as well as my other grandparents.

Before the Great Depression he had been a rich cotton buyer and had been a reporter for the Houston Chronicle in his youth. He was thin, handsome, and very energetic. True to his 100% Irish heritage, he was 100% whiskey-drinking Irish Catholic with quite a temper. I have seen the "fighting Irish." His official name was Bernard Glenney, but we all called him "Hada", which was Irish for "grandpa."

For me, his death was the first time in my life I experienced the loss of someone I saw regularly; the thought of going to the house in Hearne and not seeing him, of my grandmother being a widow, was something completely new in my life. Little did I know that one year later my grandmother would join her husband suddenly, and within 13 years all my grandparents and my father would leave this life.

Someone who reads my blog here in Leipzig seemed concerned that my entries about the deaths in my family could indicate a problem with depression. Quite the contrary. I feel very at ease talking and writing about my loved ones I am temporarily separated from. I mentioned my faith as an important part of my thinking, and this person insisted that that was not what it was about - quite an interesting notion, to think that religion and death are not connected.
A careful reading of the New Testament - and a careful consideration of earliest Christian art and writings - shows a confident hope and expectation that someday the Christ (or Jesus, as many know him) will return, and with him all creation - and all people - will be restored to the way life was meant to be. Until that time, after death humans are in paradise (a word originally meaning a lush garden) awaiting the restoration of all things. That, at least, is an extremely truncated version of the course of things.
It is sad that so much Enlightenment, Existentialism, and modern scepticism have tempted the masses to cursorily dismiss religious faith as something for the uninformed or the weak. It is even sadder that so many seem to have found no really satisfactory way to confront death. I don't know if I do a good job, but I certainly feel strengthened, and my hope and anticipation of seeing all of these people again who taught me to love and care has only grown in the past years.

We often get jaded as we grow, realizing that we can't reach for the stars anymore, and that we will all die anyway, so what is the point of life? Just enjoy it while you can? Or just wallow in despair, realizing that the bitter end is coming someday?
For me, I know there is a big surprise coming, a reality so much more real than what we experience now, and when I have seen that, I will never want to come back to this existence again. And the best thing about that reality is that all my grandparents and parents and many others are there now wondering when my brother and I, and the rest of us, will join them. We all want to complete the circle, and it will happen - what goes around comes around.

So join me in fond loving memory of my Hada and your loved ones as we never forget that the story only begins when we close our eyes the last time.

a weekend in the Saxon Switzerland

Moses underneath the chancel in the church in Bad Schandau
Spring is coming - crocuses in the church flower garden.
A cafe in Bad Schandau - a fitting place for a rest after long walks.
And we wait patiently for our food after a long walk.
one of the train tracks in the Dresden main train station
the old city centre in Dresden - at the entrance to the Frauenkirche
The Frauenkirche - the Church of our Lady. Notice how small the people are up close to the building. After being almost leveled in the bombings, this church was rebuilt only with voluntary contributions.
One of my favorite places in Dresden - the bar and café Gänsedieb - Goose Thief.
Inside Gänsedieb - lots of warm wood and colors.

Here at mid-March I took a weekend to visit my friends in Pirna, just south of Dresden. I had a few hours late Friday afternoon in Dresden, so I took in the attractions of the things I like most in Dresden. Then on Saturday we went to the Czech Republic for shopping and then to Bad Schandau, a health resort, for some walking and resting in restaurants and cafés. It actually remained dry the whole day Saturday, so we spent the whole afternoon out walking and looking at things, as some of these photos attest.
I hope you had a good weekend filled with people and activities you like.

More Loving Memories

In this photo you see my great uncle "Willie" with my mother. I took this picture in September 2002, while my mother was visiting me in Austin. Willie was living in Austin in the North Loop area with his third wife (He outlived the first two.). He was about 96 years old at this time and probably the last member of our family from that generation still alive. He reminded us about the stories of his father, how Fritz Tesmer got on a ship in East Prussia when he was 18 to leave the old world and start a new life in Texas. My mother was so happy to see her uncle after so many years.
During my visit to Texas in December 2006 to January 2007, my mother and I drove down to Taylor to visit the cemetary where many on that side of the family are buried. We wondered if Willie was still alive. I found a new grave with his head stone, so we answered our question - he had died in March 2006, and with him a generation passed out of this life. And two years later my mother rejoined him. Within two years we experienced almost two complete generations passing out of this life.
With all of these events, suddenly 18 year old Fritz Tesmer's decision to board the ship to Texas in 1883 no longer seems so far in the past. Soon we turn around, and our children's children will stand at our graves, hopefully taking photos and blogging, documenting the past as we all learn to be thankful for each other.

In Loving Memory

27 years ago on this day my maternal grandfather passed away. He had always been a physically strong man, having worked on the railroad all his life. I was always close to him. He and my grandmother helped me learn German, since they were bilingual. With him I learned to fish, grow a garden, speak some German, and enjoy the ethnic central Texas culture. He and my grandmother only had one child, my mother, so my middle name comes from his first name. He was Edward Fredrick Tesmer.

True to his East Prussian heritage, he kept a spotless house, an immaculate yard, and everything always worked right at his house. He lived frugally, was a no frills man, and left my mother with investments to be built upon - these I continue to take care of as I try to be a good steward of this bequethed heritage.

Once in a convenience store in their small town the shopkeeper claimed all young people were dishonest and would steal in a shop if they had the chance. My grandfather immediately said his grandson Mark would never do that. The shopkeeper objected, so my grandfather told him it would be a long time before he ever bought anything there again.

His funeral was the first time I saw my mother and grandmother in true grief, but it is great comfort to know their grief has come to an end.
Since my life with him was a while back, I have no digital photos to upload. I still have to look for old ones to scan. But these words are an attempt to do justice to a grandfather whose strictness was tempered with a desire to share, all of which was surrounded by faithful love.

Hubert de Givenchy on Elegance...

The minimalist "Bauhaus" style is in demand - some say it's elegant, while others find it stark or boring.

"The greatest elegance is that of the heart, which consists of doing good works with the highest degree of confidentiality, even anonymously. Elegance is always inconspicuous and never intrusive; it does not indulge itself in luxuriousness and display. Elegance is always the refinement of that which is simple and almost indiscernable..."

This quote is my translation from an article in which Givenchy commented on elegance. After all the pomp of Christmas, and now Carneval, and the Oscars yesterday in the USA, I needed a little refreshment and airing-out of my senses.

So one year goes by....

In August 2004 we enjoyed a mild morning having coffee at Central Market in Fort Worth.

As of today it has been one year since I last saw my mother. I hugged her, kissed her, and felt confident I would see her again in just a few months, in the summer of 2008, since I was certain I was moving back to Texas to be there to help take care of her.

I walked out of the door and got into the car as my friend Randy drove me to the airport. I commented to him that now the most difficult part was over - saying goodbye was the most challenging. Little did I know I had just said my last goodbye in person to her during this life...

And about two weeks later here in Leipzig I had a shivering revelation that I would not see her alive again. I chose to ignore that knowledge, dismissing it as an insane notion. I knew there was something different about that notion, though. Yet I continued my plans, not suspecting that in just a few weeks the fabric of my life would be torn beyond all repair...

Fed Up with February Flurries...

Here the view I was greeted with when I walked into my living room this morning...
The back deck doesn't look very inviting today....
This is where I stand in front of my apartment house and wait for the tram - just like these people.

I am officially tired and fed up with Winter. I am tired of not being able to keep clean shoes. I am tired of needing one whole minute to bundle myself up to go outside. Just as the paths in the forest were finally clear, we get another load of snow, so now it will be slip and slide in the forest again when I try to go running, and I will run, because I do not want to start gaining weight - that happens when you aren't 20 anymore and don't burn off calories that fast.
So those of you down under or over there in the warm south of the USA, think warm thoughts of us over here. This post wasn't profound, just mundane - too much cold stifles deeper thoughts...

February Funk

Where have the days gone? We are well into February, and so far 2009 has been uneventful - a welcome change from a 2008 full of tragedy for me. Central Europe has been in a deep freeze, and terrible cold and flu viruses have been going around. I usually get off scott-free, but this time I was up for a round, so I have been nursing a bad cold and feeling blah all the time. Now I am healthy again, but the enegry you lose in the battle comes back slowly. And, that is why no posts have been forth-coming.

Why do we box time into artificial segments? Crops, mating seasons, the moon, etc. give us natural biological segmentation, but for humans, there are overriding aspects defying such separation. Birth, marriage, the rituals of the stages of life, and then death may provide the prominent pillars, but even many of these still do not stem the flow of union between events perhaps even far removed from the present.

I found a bargain two weeks ago: a box of the complete Beethoven String Quartets, performed by the Gewandhaus Quartet, the resident string quartet of the orchestra in Leipzig bearing the same name. 10 cds and a 96 page booklet for 10 Euros! (bar code no. 4 019272 601392) This set is already one of my all-time favourite collections. If you know Beethoven, you may know his lapel-grabbing tendencies and the lack of melodies in his works. But this interpretation of his string quartets uses impeccable purity of tone and intonation to present a Beethoven that doesn't grab you lapel but invades your psyche via the ear, leaving you haunted by the timelessness of his music - breaking the pillars convention would erect between events. At the end of his Nineth Symphony, you want to shout and scream, but the same sublime beauty and insight here leaves you in silent awe, as you agree with Wittgenstein, who, at the end of his most difficult work, said there are some things we cannot know, and our only response to these is silence.

Do not forget that by the time Beethoven composed most of these string quartets, he was completely deaf; he could hear nothing he composed - as far as we know. But he still heard as he composed. I hope we can listen as intently as he heard.

The always present perfect past

Casper was our dear Weimaraner dog - as you see, I loved him much. My father took such a good photo of my mother, brother, and me with Casper that summer when I was 11.

This was mother's last time to see Francis in this life - in September 2003; she died in the summer 2004. Now they are sitting together again just like this - there is room for more of us on that couch....

My mother was a care giver for her mother (here in the photo with my father) the last seven years of my grandmother's life. Then my father and grandmother died within two weeks of each other, suddenly leaving my mother without her husband and mother. Now the bitterness of that loss has been turned to sweetest joy.

I posed a perfect picture - we all loved Casper. He left us first. Then my father, and then my mother last year. I wonder if Casper is also there with mother and dad now.

Where are your old discoloured photos? Your windows into your spirit never glaze over - those photos pull you to stand before your fuller identity, because they remind you of things past that have really never passed. We bring it all along all through life as we gather together our selves through this journey, and then, in the middle of life, we stand before the threshold of vastness, peering into something we can never see in this time of our existence.

All of these lives, all of these graves, all of this love, bitterness, pain, anguish, hope, and in it life grows, not as some march of progress from good to better but simply as the precious life the maker has given us from the moment we sparked into being.

The tasks we do are all replaceable. Anyone can mop, sweep, dust, program, play the violin, bake, and work as many other things, but like an undertow we create something matchless as we toil and work in these replaceable functions - we weave lives together creating something mirrored only in the mystery of the Trinity - truly inclusive love that brings others into the fold as those already there nurture their relationships of love and caring.

But that is something we peer into as into a fog now - how is such a thing possible? We cannot know the answer now, though we come closer as we cherish precious life as it is and was and will be, now and forever more.

My Texas Christmas 2008

"Howdy!" from Chris, as he shows us the old Foyt Store in Mumford, Texas - now simply the Post Office. Chris' mother and grandmother used to run the store here until they closed it. Chris is studying acting and film directing in Los Angeles. He is a super intelligent, creative, and good-looking guy you will see in the movies some day. I'm fortunate to be related to future stars like this....
My cousin Julie (left) and Melanie (right), my other cousin's wife, prepare desserts for the Christmas Day meal.
Family bliss: My uncle Robert, my aunt Dorothy (the parents of my cousins Julie and Zack), and my brother Randy catch up on old times. My uncle was a pilot for AA all his life, and he was a pilot in WWII and flew the Berlin Air lift.
My aunt and uncle, and sitting on the couch my second cousin Haylee....
My cousin Julie watches me take a picture of Zack's (my other cousin) cat.
Zack and his wife Melanie. We had Christmas meal at their house.

I have now been back in Leipzig for about one day. I am still in the middle of jet lag, and there is about 18 inches of snow outside. Tomorrow the temperature will finally get above freezing here. But I look at all the wonderful photos of my visit to Texas the past three weeks, and no cold can invade me then. I am so glad all my family is within easy driving distance in Texas. The "trip" to Fort Worth for Christmas meal was only 26 minutes. And Julie and I drove to Hearne to visit the cemetary, and to Mumford to visit our family there. My great-aunt Lilian, who lived in the big house in Mumford, knew three US Presidents personally - that was something special, especially since back then women did not have nearly the political power they have today.

I also enjoyed catching up with old friends in the DFW area: Keith and Susan (old friends from high school band and church) and their three daughters, Randy and Jessica, Karen from Austin, and of course Chris and Ruth Ann and their kids in Austin.

As special as this Christmas was, it was still difficult for me and my brother, since this was our first Christmas without our mother. We spent much time on Christmas remembering my parents, our grandparents, and many other family members who are now together surrounded by God's very presence and waiting for us to join them for the ultimate family reunion.

Christmas in Texas en passant....

I hope all of you are having the beginnings of a good new year. Lets hope that 2009 will be better to us than 2008.

After arriving in Dallas on December 19 I had much to do: renew my drivers license, settle some legal issues with the house, and order a headstone for my mother's grave. On Christmas day we were 15 family members at my cousin's house for a wonderful meal. I could visit with my aunt and uncle for a long time.

Last week, on Tuesday, my cousin and I drove to central Texas to visit the cemetary - my first time back there since we buried my mother there on April 4, 2008. We also visited relatives in Mumford, a wide spot on the road near the Brazos River. I got to know Chris there, a relative studying acting and film directing in LA. Then, on New Year's Eve, I ate Mexican food and saw "Doubt" with Meril Streep. Two friends and I saw the movie and ate together.

On January 1 I drove down to Austin to cash in on Chris' (from the blog here) offer for beer at Rover's. It had been over 5 years since seeing Chris, Ruth Ann, and all their children, so it was a great but too short reunion. I even made friends with "buns" - mister Bunny, their rabbit. And on Friday I had to use the AC in the car on the way up I35 - it was so warm. And Saturday it was 84 degrees - about 28C - in the Dallas area, which is quite a contrast to the frigid cold in central Europe that will greet me at my arrival in Leipzig this coming weekend.

Now I have a lot of yardwork to do before I hop on the plane Friday. I hope I can push myself...
I'll have more details and a few photos when I am back in Germany.
Wishing you all a good week....

The Last Christmas Party

The last party for me was yesterday evening. I am very glad they are finally over. Too much of a good thing. I am now wasted - not from imbibing but from too much social interaction. And I still have a week to go. Why am I wasted? Because I never get to keeping my daily life in order - the apartment is a mess, my desk has English papers flung all over it, my pantry is a disgrace, and I am dealing with several friends who need to do homework concerning nurturing loyalty in the deepest relationships with people. And I also went through a grueling session at the dentist on Tuesday, causing me to miss 1.5 days of work.
I cannot complain about anything. Really. But at some point the social pressures to be everywhere begin to wear on you. How I long for a time like in the photo above - just sitting at the water with someone and having hours to talk about anything. I took this photo at the Elbe River in Dresden - the sun made the exposure come out the way it is.

I don't know if I will get to posting another entry before my flight to Texas or before Christmas - there is so much happening at the moment. Maybe I'll do it on the plane over Greenland.

But I wish you time for reflection and meditation, time to be thankful for everything and to think about others - Christmas is a time when many people suffer because there are empty places at the table, and they are reminded again how their lives feel empty. I hope we can all comfort each other with the true message of Christmas: God's unconditional love for all of his creation.

Torn Between Two Worlds....

My life in central Europe...

My home in a suburb of the Dallas Fort Worth area...

My home someday, when I join the rest of my family here - my parents, grandparents, and great grandparents.

Advent greetings to all as the Christmas season 2008 officially and liturgically begins. For me this has become the time of year I dislike the most. I am no Scrooge. December is jam-packed with too many Christmas parties, too many people who want to get together "one last time this year", and too many crowds in the Leipzig Christmas Market, which is supposed to be one of the best in Germany. And to these reasons comes another: this will be my first Christmas without any parents; they are all buried in the cemetary you see in the photo above. There is simply too much going on in 28 days, and I am always relieved when January 2nd arrives, signalling the return of normal life.

This year I am again in Texas over Christmas, but this visit will be very difficult - my first visit to the home I grew up in, when I will experience it without parents. As my life continues to be successful over here in the "old world", I am torn more and more between the two continents.

I have one brother left in my immediate family, and one cousin with whom I have a close relationship. But putting the facts on the table produces the following scenario: I have very little contact to anyone in the states anymore. There are about five people in Texas who keep in contact with my by email, and some of them read this blog. No-one ever calls me on the phone, never ever. My mother was faithful - she was the consummate model of faithful unconditional love - and she always called me if more than a week elapsed with no contact. Yet when I visit Texas for only three weeks, at least two friends from Germany call me just to see how I am doing. And I know they are waiting for postcards from Texas.

So is this simply no more than the "out-of-sight-out-of-mind" phenomenon? Or does this speak to the different nature of relationships on the two continents? In the German culture, you traverse a huge psychological distance when you move from stranger to acquaintance to friend, for you use a different pronoun to address a friend (du instead of Sie) and you use their first name and not their last name. And friends often greet each other very affectionately here - two grown males will hug each other with their cheeks pressing against each other, and female friends kiss each other on both cheeks - reminding us of French customs. Americans, in contrast, are the world champions in smiling and laughing, but close body contact is something many of us shy away from. I remember a comment from former President Clinton how he did not like to hug men.

It seems that Americans are much more self-made individuals, where Europeans more typically find their self-definition in the web of family and friends as a type of psychological safety net giving them a context for life. Think of the cartoon figures in the states: Batman, Robin, the Lone Ranger, Spider Man, they all are lones who don't really seem to have any close friends, and if they do find close friends, as Spider Man fell in love, it can spell problems for their identity as a hero.

With all of these thoughts in my mind, I will be glad when normal life returns, so that I will have more time to think about these things.

I hope Christmas can give you moments of reflection and peace.

Winter Wonderland in November....?

It's too early for this!! My geraniums are still blooming! Don't cover them up, Mr. Snowman...

Here we are in Frostyland and not even December yet.... This is the way our week is starting. I have just taken this photo a few minutes ago for your.... uh...pleasure. This weekend was busy, since I celebrated American Thanksgiving a few days early (Thanksgiving is on Thursday, but it is no holiday in Germany). We were seven people sitting at my table for a traditional Thanksgiving meal. The highlight of the evening for me was my pumpkin pie I made "from scratch" as we say - I even made the pie crust myself! And it tasted great. Everyone liked it. But when you go to the market and select a fresh pumpkin for the pie, you first have to bake it for an hour, then scrape the meat out and purée it in a blender. Then you do the rest of the recipe. It was a lot of work, but it was well worth it.

At Thanksgiving we give thanks, of course :-) What did I give thanks for? 2008 is a very bad year for me, overshadowed by the theft of my car in mid March and above all the death of my dear Mother on March 31. But I am always thankful for my loyal dears friends, and I reminded them of this at this meal. Of course, I have more friends here than only these at the table, but these at the table belong to the inner-circle of those who are helping me make it through this time of finding life after the death of the last parent. I want to share their (first) names with you: Stephan, Tobias and Claudia, Sebastian, Matthias and Gesine.

I'll go to work in a little and battle the snow, as I remember and give thanks for my dear friends here. Who are your friends you give thanks for?