It Begins in Poland: Traveling at the Speed of ... My Parents

Buckle your seatbelts! We are traveling at the speed of my parents. Oh, did you think that speed might be slow? Not with my parents. They may physically move at a slower pace than me, but they travel with the purpose and intensity of a rocket trip to Mars. 

We spent two weeks in Poland and Germany with a small day trip to Austria. During that time, we visited eight cities and numerous villages; researched our family in archives in Płock and Włocławek (Poland); spent time with six new (to me) cousins (ages 8 months to 95 years); crawled through overgrown cemeteries and the locations of long gone villages; and even did some sightseeing. 

My parents invited me on their nostalgic trip to Germany, where they began their lives together more than fifty years ago, while my Dad was serving in the U.S. army. True, they wanted some help along the way, but they enticed me with family research in Poland and new cousins. New cousins and dead ancestors. What could be better? 

Research on!
Jennifer Shoer aka Scrappy Gen
Reconnecting Relatives, LLC
Let's Remember!

Most Popular Post on the Scrappy Genealogist

The most commented post on The Scrappy Genealogist is the one in which I write about traveling back to the place I first lived, Butzbach, Germany. My Dad was stationed there from 1965 through 1968. We lived on Texas Road in the American military housing complex, Roman Way. My memories of our time there are hazy, but when we visited, I felt a deep connection to the place where I spent my first years. Memories can be intellectual, but mine of Butzbach are physical and emotional. 

Ten years ago, on 30 April 2003, the U.S. Department of Defense announced that its operations at Schloss Kaserne and Roman Way in Butzbach would end in 2007.[1] Periodically I reread the comments from people who also lived and/or served there.  They are united in their fond memories and they miss this special place and time. I totally get it. And so feeling a bit melancholy today for a place and time now gone, I offer you these links:

Photos by Stimpyrama: This site's photographer takes beautiful photos of Lost Places. His photos of Roman Way are edited to create a gritty, emotional effect. 

YouTube user 3AD Roadking 1970 created three videos in 2007 of Roman Way:
Roman Way Village Housing Part 1
Roman Way Village Housing Part II
Roman Way Village Housing Part III

and one of Schloss Kaserne. 

Frankfurt American High School has two interior photos taken in Butzbach, one of pool tables and the other of a snack bar. 

Flickr user Setjet posted pictures taken in 2003 of Roman Way and surrounding US Army areas. 

Schloss Kaserne

This blog Forgotten Memories has more pictures of the neighborhood. 

This is a series of pictures of Schloss Kaserne. 

We visited Schloss Kaserne during our visit. My Dad worked in this building during his service in the 1960s. I know that some of the buildings were torn down, but this one was still there. 

Research on!

Jennifer Shoer aka Scrappy Gen

Reconnecting Relatives, LLC

Let's Remember!

[1] www.defense.gov U.S. Department of Defense, Office of the Assistant Secretary of Defense (Public Affairs) News Release No. 290-03 April 30, 2003 http://www.defense.gov/releases/release.aspx?releaseid=3797 accessed 4 April 2013

Judisches Museum - Frankfurt am Main

Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day, "an annual day of commemoration to honor the victims of the Nazi era", according to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum website. This morning, the museum tweeted "How will you honor the victims?". I have been holding on to this blog post since December, but today seems like a good day to send it out. While M.J. doesn't have any relatives ,who lived in Frankfurt, Germany, he did have many relatives, who were victims of the Nazis. This is what prompted my visit to the Judisches Museum in Frankfurt am Main and this blog post is dedicated to the many Frankfurt Jewish men, women and children who were killed during the Holocaust.

Judisches Museum - Frankfurt am Main, Germany

During our trip to Germany in November,  we stumbled upon the Judisches Museum in Frankfurt while walking back along the Main River to our hotel from Old Frankfurt. The museum is housed in the original Rothschild Palace, a large impressive, all white structure.

First, it should be noted that the Judisches Museum is one of a pair of museums, which includes the Judengasse Museum, also in Frankfurt. Because of our limited time, we only visited the first, but the second is on the site of the Jewish Ghetto (Judengasse means Jewish Lane) and includes an excavation of part of the area. The Judsiches Museum fulfills it's overall statement of purpose, which is to portray the history of the Jewish people in Frankfurt form the 12th to the 20th centuries. The exhibit I found most compelling was the walk through wooden model of the Judengasse.

If you have Jewish ancestors or relatives from Frankfurt, you may find helpful information at one of two museums. The Judisches Museum has an on-site research library. The Judengasse Museum has data with details about the people who lived on the Judengasse as well as names and biographies of Frankfurt Jews, who were deported and murdered. There is a database online at Infobank Judengasse Frankfurt am Main.

There are a few things you should know before you visit. If you wear reading glasses, don't forget them! Translations are provided in written format for all of the displays, many of which are text heavy, but the lighting in the museum is very dim. It is not a museum for children, unless your children like to read. All of the displays require a lot of reading. We did not rent the english audio as we did not have enough time to get the most benefit from it, but I assume that would have been helpful. An hour was not nearly enough time to fully appreciate all that the museum had to offer. On the way out I bought a wonderful English guidebook that I wish I had had while going through the museum. You may want to pick one up at the desk where you purchase tickets. Unfortunately, I do not remember if they had other language versions. If you get hungry or thirsty, there is a good quality coffee shop on site. 

Finally, there are always temporary exhibits at the museum. This was available at an additional cost, which was minimal on top of the $7.00 euros we paid to enter. There is a schedule of events available on the website.
 

It is good to know that there are museums like this in Frankfurt, so that future generations can learn about the history of antisemitism and how it progressed to the point where the Holocaust became possible. As a genealogist, I strive to remember and help others remember their family history. Thank you to the Judisches Museum for helping others to remember. 

Scrappy Gen

Traveling Back in Time – Frankfurt, Germany – United States 97th General Hospital

Here at long last is our memorable adventure with the polizei (police) at the now defunct United States 97th General Hospital as remembered by my sister, Mary.

Disclaimer: No photos will appear in this story.

In Germany cars are smaller for several reasons; smaller people, smaller roads, expensive gas, but mostly to be able to maneuver quickly in and out of traffic at high speeds, regardless of pedestrian or oncoming traffic. Mom and Dad rented one of these cars into which the seven of us promptly stuffed ourselves. As we travelled up, up and around the curves and narrow pathways of the parking garage, I couldn’t help feeling I was on the Test Track ride at Epcot. Around the corner and increase speed to 20 MPH, around another corner and increase speed to 30 MPH and around another corner and increase speed to 40 MPH. When I saw a glimpse of daylight ahead, I worried for a second there was an oncoming truck. Suddenly we shot out into daylight and we were on the streets with the rest of the maniacs zipping around. I am pretty sure Dad enjoyed all that shifting into gear and taking the corners at what felt like warp speed. 
 
Why is it one always feels the need for a Xanax after the panic has set in and it is too late?

We were on our way, first to Frankfurt to see the 97th General Hospital where Jennifer was born. If we survived that, we would go to Butzbach to see where I was born. There were lots of wrong turns, lots of yelling and after I saw the beating Dad was taking from all of us, I was glad I was not driving. I could not imagine myself figuring out this new car in a foreign country; a car overloaded with people who primarily speak English in a country with all German signs. My only goal was to avoid all autobahns. Despite all these odds against him, Dad did a great job. I know this because I am alive to write about it.

We did get lost and went in circles, but thanks to Jennifer (Now who would have imagined she would be the one to find our way anywhere?), we finally found the hospital. There were no cars on the street as we circled the area. It looked so abandoned and sad.

Dad found a spot to park, which was not too hard since our car was the only one. After all, who would need to park near a building not in use? Here we all piled out onto the street (picture a circus car). Jen and I were the first to get to where the main entrance of the hospital used to be. There we saw signs for the United States Consulate. Of course, being the photographers that we both are, she pulled out her camera. Suddenly the door of the consulate flew open and a guard in a uniform yelled out to her Verboten! Verboten! with that right index finger tsking her in an abrupt and directive way. I yelled to her to put her camera down, he doesn’t want you taking pictures! Thankfully she had stopped and all I could think of was ‘whew that was close’.

At this point the rest of the gang is out of the car and Dad is approaching the man in the uniform. Come to find out he is an American living in Germany. Dad explained that Jennifer was born in this hospital and that is why we are there. He told us that we could not take pictures because “they” do not want us too, and if “they” see us take pictures “they” will come and either erase the pictures off of the card or take the camera away from us. We, of course, are all relieved that Jen had not taken any pictures. Shaking all of our heads in unison to ensure this man that we all understood, we asked if we could take a walk around the perimeter and he said that would be OK.

We were on our way down the street, skipping along in our minds, not realizing yet that “they” really did not want us there. Within moments here comes the Polizei slowing down, giving us the once over and then taking off quickly down the street. They drove down a bit and then did a quick u-turn. We all knew they were coming back for us.

Now why I was nervous, I do not know, because we were doing nothing wrong. However, when they pulled up to the curb, there we were again all shaking our heads in unison and saying whatever we think will make them go away. The Polizei advised us that “they” had called them and “they” wanted to make sure we were told not to take any pictures. Otherwise “they” will come and confiscate your pictures or camera. I can tell you this, these Polizei were trying to look friendly. You know the smile that says they aren’t sure if we are up to something so they are playing nice to feel us out. We advised them we already knew because the guard at the consulate had told us. Dad asked these smiling Polizei if it is ok for us to walk down the street. Their response? Well, Germany is a free country and we can’t stop you (emphasis on the word stop) from walking down the street. There was a general feeling of fear in the air and I can tell you it was coming from us not from the Polizei. We decided as soon as they left we needed to get back to the car and make like a tree and leave.

We quickly returned to the clown car and climbed over each other as fast as we could to get in so we could get out of there. Dad was trying to figure out the parking brake and the rest of us were yelling just go, go, go. So we left the place of Jen’s birth, where we certainly did not procure any memorable pictures, but definitely experienced a memory none of us will ever forget. Jen left knowing her place of birth was still owned and run by the United States. It was not run down or even abandoned, but is now fully occupied as the consulate. As we drove away, we made a wrong turn and were forced to drive by on the other side of the consulate. Now, we thought, we must really look like we are up to something, all while trying to avoid those cameras so “they” don’t recognize us. Who were we kidding, "they" probably trailed us until we were out of sight.

Soon I was focused on our next venture. I was just hours away from seeing the place where I was born. I would find out that the place I have had pictured in my mind for so many years would be the exact opposite of the images I held. Who would have known at that moment that Jennifer was the lucky one. Even though her place of birth was heavily guarded it was still alive and still American. Next stop, Butzbach!

Mary, Sister of Scrappy Gen

Technorati Tags: Army,Frankfurt,Germany

Traveling Back in Time–Texas Road, Butzbach, Germany

Deserted. Desolate. Melancholic. All words that describe the atmosphere of the United States military housing on Texas Road in Butzbach, Germany. Forty-two years ago, the last time I was there it was a vibrant place filled with military service people and their families. Now it is empty and sad. I shared this picture with you as part of identifying the buildings you can see in the background.


Here are those same buildings on 25 November, 2010:


Our apartment is the balcony on the third floor at 17 Texas Road in Butzbach:


The balcony below is behind me in the old picture above.


These pictures should give you an idea of how empty it is here now. This is our apartment building:


and our street:



and looking directly up from our street:


and looking left:


and looking right:


Seeing our old home would have been overwhelmingly sad if I hadn’t shared the experience with my parents and my sister. I am so grateful I was able to visit Texas Road in Butzbach with them.

It turns out that we were not alone in our feelings. This huge empty United States housing area interconnects with civilian Butzbach residential areas. All of the citizens we spoke with reflected the loss they felt due to the departure of the Americans. The economy of Butzbach has suffered; stores and restaurants have closed. It will probably be years before Butzbach is able to economically rebuild what it has lost. The young adults say that it is very boring there now and the older people miss the loss of their friends and neighbors. There must be many United States service families who are missing Butzbach too. 

Thank you for coming along on my trip to the past.

You can read the other parts of this story here.

Scrappy Gen

Latkes in Germany and Happy Hanukkah!

Everywhere we went in Germany, they were kind enough to offer latkes. These pretty babies we ate in Butzbach:

Well, they weren't exactly called latkes, they were called kartoffelpuffer, or potato pancakes. But if it looks like a latke, smells like a latke and tastes like a latke, then it's a latke! I lost track of how many times we ate these. Let's just say, I am very glad that we had to walk a lot, or my scale would have been very unhappy with me. We usually had the kartoffelpuffer with applesauce, but they offered them with numerous topping choices, including lox and sour cream. Oh, oily delight, how I miss you. 

If you celebrate Hanukkah, I hope you enjoy a wonderful eight nights! With our oldest home for a quick visit from college, we lit the first candle last night.

Scrappy Gen

Genealogical Connection: What did your ancestors eat for their holiday? How does it differ from your celebration today?

Traveling Back in Time – Mutti - Butzbach, Germany

The stairwell was dark, but standing in a dim light at the top was an old woman. She was a stranger to me, someone I would have passed on the street without recognizing and yet there was a familiarity. I was fairly certain it was her. The last name above the door buzzer on the small white apartment house was hers. I tentatively asked “Lina?” and she, also tentatively, answered “Jeneefer?”. I don’t remember climbing the rest of the stairs, but suddenly we were hugging tightly and she was saying “Oh Jeneefer, oh Jeneefer…you called me…” and I finished “Mutti”.

When I sent a last minute postcard to Lina through the German website Postalo, I signed it with all of our names; my father's, mother's, sister's and mine. Somehow Lina knew it was me on the stairwell and not my sister. Perhaps because as she repeated several times over the course of our visit, we had a connection. She also cared for and loved my sister, but she was a baby when she lived in Germany and was just nine months old when we moved back to the United States.

My sister was just behind me on the stairs and Lina enveloped her with her warm embrace and crooned “Baby, baby, you were just a baby.”. She hugged us both until my mother climbed the stairs. Lina clung so fiercely to her that I was a little afraid one or both of them would collapse. My father was next and she broke away from my mother long enough to tease him about his hair loss. Forty two years is a long time and yet, there was still a strong emotional bond in our shared past.

She invited us in to her cozy sitting room, where her husband was sitting. We admired the pictures of her daughter and her grandchildren and she spoke fondly of them. My brother in law and nephew came in to be introduced and she welcomed them too. My sister was pleased (Who wouldn't be?) when Lina joked that she and her son look like brother and sister.

Lina has had a hard life, but she has retained her tender heart, sense of humor and optimistic outlook. She has always had to care for her husband and cannot leave him alone. For years she worked as a nanny and as a housekeeper to support them. As she said she always took care of other people and didn’t always take care of herself. She has had some severe health issues and faces another important doctor’s appointment next week. But she said she doesn’t feel any angst and what will be, will be.

We could have stayed in her cozy sitting room, listening to her talk forever. She told us we were her last American family and so her English wasn’t so good anymore, that she hasn’t really spoken English since she cared for us. She said my name, Jeneefer, with such deep emotion that I could sense how much she had loved me. After thinking about her for my whole life, it was a nice thing to feel. My sister loved how she said it so much, she called me that for the rest of our trip.

Lina said that although she cared for so many American families, we were one of only a couple that she remembered well because she felt the connection with us. She said her memory isn’t good, but she remembered details like a visit from my father’s parents and how beautiful my grandmother’s face was. She also remembered little things I used to say and do. She said when it was time for her to leave, I would beg to go home with her. I think she liked that.

Time to leave, a bittersweet moment. How would we tear ourselves away from her? For that matter, how would we leave her warm, cozy sitting room and head back out into the cold, dark night? Time had fallen away and all that mattered was our deep happiness at being together again. Sitting close together, Lina was clinging to my mother and my mother was grasping her hands, both continuing to speak half in German, half in English. Of all of us, I believe Lina missed my mother the most. We took pictures of our group, The lighting wasn’t good and the pictures came out grainy, symbolic of the inadequacy of a camera in capturing the importance of this moment.

We hugged and kissed and sobbed and hugged and kissed and sobbed some more. I really didn’t want to go. Lina and her husband don’t get around easily, but when we descended the stairs to leave, they followed us down. We said Auf Wiedersehen and turned and waved again and again as we headed down the cold, dark street to pile back into our rental car. It was freezing outside, but Lina remained on the sidewalk and waved until we disappeared from view.

Lina says that not everyone for whom she has cared has remembered her. I have always remembered her, but feel some guilt that we didn’t continue to send her correspondence over the years and may have caused her some sadness because of this. I think she thought we forgot about her. Yes, we moved a lot, yes we were busy with our lives, but Lina deserves to be remembered. Before we left I thanked her for taking such good care of me. I will never forget her again.

Scrappy Gen

Traveling Back in Time – Butzbach, Germany

Have you ever wished you could travel back in time to see that favorite someone? You know the person, the one who stayed for a little while, but left their footprints in your heart. Perhaps if you have never moved, you can’t understand this desire, but when you move a lot, there end up being several ‘someones’, who you would love to go back in time and visit.


This is a picture of me and my first two favorite people:




The woman’s name is Lina, but I called her Mutti (German for Mom). The girl leaning on her knee is her daughter. When we lived in Butzbach, near Frankfurt, Germany, my Mother had many duties to attend to as the wife of a young US Army officer. Lina took care of me for the first three years of my life before we moved back to the United States. According to my mother, I continued to ask for Lina for a long time after we had left.


As I mentioned here, my parents, sister and I will soon be traveling back to Butzbach and Frankfurt, Germany. We will visit the places we lived and will see the 97th Army Hospital, where I was born. You can read about the hospital on The USAREUR Military History Office website. My sister never made it to the hospital, she was in too much of a hurry to see the world.


While my parents were at our house recently, we decided to try to figure out if it was possible that Lina might still be living in the area. Luckily they remembered her old address in Butzbach. They had corresponded and exchanged photos until the late seventies.
How do you find someone living in Germany? First, I used Google Translate to get the German words for phonebook and directory. Then on Google, we searched for Butzbach Telefonbuch. We found the website and searched for Lina and her husband Walter. Up popped Walter at the same address where my parents had last written to Lina thirty years ago.


I am excited, but nervous to have found Walter. Many questions remain to be answered on our trip. What to do? I could write a letter asking about Lina or announcing our visit, but I am not sure if a letter would arrive in time. We will be right near her home. Should we just knock on the door? Should we call first? I had German in school, but speaking it on the phone for the first time, would feel like running a race without warming up. It’s been so long…, but I can still feel her footprints in my heart.


Thanks for reading!


Scrappy Gen

Texas Road, Butzbach, Germany

My mother produced a genealogical gem last night. I called to ask her exactly where we had lived in Butzbach, Germany. She told me to hang on while she dug out her old address book. She has had this book since before I was born and she easily told me the exact dates and addresses for each of the places she and my Dad (and eventually my sister and I) lived in Germany. Her old address book was always at hand's reach when I was growing up. It came out for making calls and sending cards, but my Mom kept it for an additional reason as well. She was documenting our places of residence because she knew we would be moving frequently and that a record of those places might someday be needed by her children.


When my parents first arrived in Germany, they lived on Richard-Wagner-Strasse in Butzbach. This was temporary housing and my mother says she was very happy to move ten days after I was born because the apartment had hot water only in the shower. I asked and yes, they sometimes washed their dishes in the shower.


When I was ten days old we moved to Texas Road in Butzbach. This was in United States military housing. I found a blog called Forgotten Memories, which has a group of pictures taken in 2008 of the then defunct complex. The complex is still visible today through Google Maps. It looks like there may be people living in the buildings again as there are cars parked throughout the complex. I will have a chance to see these buildings in person in just a couple of months as I will be journeying to Frankfurt and Butzbach with my parents and sister to revisit the places where we were born (2 different hospitals) and the homes where we lived.


I pulled out an old picture of me taken in 1967. I have adjusted the contrast and a few other things in order to make visible what can be seen out the window just behind me.

How lucky it is that this photo wasn't taken during today's digital era. It might have been cropped to show just the cute little girl in the picture and would have eliminated the view of the apartment building across the way. Comparing this photo to the image on Google Maps, you can see that the little windows on the roof are still visible. The buildings look pretty much the same as they did 43 years ago.


I put a couple of pictures together on another scrapbook page for the Donna Downey class I am taking through Big Picture Classes. I am going to add additional information giving further details about our home in Butzbach to the back of the fabric page. Then this page will go into a little album I am making which will chronicle all of the homes I have had.

Texas Road, Butzbach