Conclusion
Would Gerdi have been happier had we lived in Germany, her home, rather than in the U.S.? Would she have been able to beat the cancer that claimed her at the prime of life?
Those are the questions I set out to answer through this research. Alas, such questions are unanswerable. Life is not a controlled experiment. How does one operationalize the variables: economics, culture, personality, circumstances, and exigencies of everyday life? The fact is, we don’t know, when we set out for a drive to the shopping mall, whether we will survive the trip. How can one possibly second-guess the course one’s life might have taken had uncountable flutters of the Butterfly’s wings deflected it?
So, does this book represent two years of wasted effort? Ever the optimist, I contend that the answer is no—not if some good has come from it. This project may have benefitted the interviewees, loved ones, general readers, and myself.
The men and women who shared their stories with me embarked on one of life’s great tasks: self-reflection and narration. Every person has a story. Unfortunately, most people are too busy living their story to record it. By talking to an interested listener, the folks in these pages may have recalled some events from their earlier lives and connected those events to discover the plot and meaning of their own narratives. My hope is that these men and women will take it upon themselves to expand upon the brief sketches herein with sub-plots and details that tell their full stories for their own benefit and for the benefit of their loved ones. What greater gift could they bequeath their children and grandchildren?
Those loved ones, family and friends, who read these stories will be an important part of the process. They will raise questions to fill in the holes in these narratives. The ensuing conversations will complete and enrich the resulting memoirs—and the relationship between the loved ones. Younger family members will gladly take on the task of recording and transcribing these conversations, for the result will be a treasured family heirloom.
Many readers on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean will be fascinated by the stories of former G.I.s who married local women and chose to live their lives in Germany. The first-hand observations of these ordinary Americans reflect their experiences. The veterans interviewed have much in common: American values and perspective, military training, exposure to foreign country as young men, German wives, and the challenge of overcoming language, cultural, and legal barriers to make a life in a new land. Yet, each individual’s personality, abilities, and circumstances resulted in a unique story, with lessons for the thoughtful reader. The impressions of these men and women are not intended to serve as factual references. A stickler for accuracy may notice contradictions or errors among the individuals’ descriptions of German (or American) bureaucracy. That is to be expected; how likely is it that you and your neighbor will describe your experience at the Department of Motor Vehicles in precisely the same terms?
Writers are taught that the primary purpose of communication is to bring about a desired response on the part of their readers. That advice is appropriate if one’s general purpose is to persuade, inform, or entertain other people. In addition, writing, whether in a private journal or for publication, offers certain benefits for the writer: It requires the writer to sort out important questions, facts, and connections that might otherwise remain a jumbled mental mess; it requires the writer to conduct search his or her memory, to uncover answers to questions through research; and it facilitates reflection on and analysis of findings. This project has been hugely beneficial to me in all these ways. The lessons I learned from the people who so generously and honestly shared their stories may be summed up as follows:
The lesson of my friend Claudia is that living in her own country, with the support of family and friends and the economic independence of a respected, well-paid profession, gave her the strength to declare independence when her American husband proved unfaithful and unworthy as a father.
David and Ute Starr’s experience demonstrates that temporary sacrifice for the marriage melts the edges of each partner’s ego, and the flame of mutual devotion through good times and bad forges an unbreakable bond.
Larry Townsend taught me that circumstances of birth do not necessarily determine the course of one’s life. He emerged from the Compton ghetto to lead a productive, comfortable life as an American in Germany, with a lovely German wife.
Meeting Nick Nolte reminded me that the “old fashioned” values of honesty, hard work, and sincerity make for a pretty good life. Nick’s commitment to family, his profession, and his music keep him young and happy.
John Ellis was a warrior; he protected his grandson from the scum at the airport. He was authentic; spoke his mind, earning the respect of those with whom he disagreed, as well as those with whom he agreed. He was compassionate, as when he comforted his dying friend, Vern. I could use some of those qualities.
“Captain Joe’s” story gave me insight into the realities of the German medical, educational, and legal systems, sometimes humorous, sometimes frustrating to the point of madness. It helped me to imagine how my late wife, Gerdi must have felt at times in a place that was foreign in so many ways.
Steve Milke is a man caught between two cultures. He returned to Germany, the land of his birth, as an American citizen. He bled for the U.S. in Vietnam and introduced his fellow G.I.s to German cuisine—and beer. Few men could paint for me as clear a picture of Germany from an American’s perspective.
I owe a special debt of gratitude to Herb Hall, for as organizer of the Sunday morning get-together for veterans at McDonald’s, he made it possible for me to meet most of the gentlemen featured in this book. His example of servant leadership has maintained the group as a safe place for its members to celebrate their American identity and cement friendships.
Fred and Inga Rivera were a delight; their marriage exemplifies my personal motto, “Have fun, and get it done!” Fred’s quest to write a comprehensive family history dovetails with the purpose of my project. His beautifully blended family represents hope for the future of America and humanity.
A day with Don and Sigrun Norris convinced me that fairy tales do come true; the young knight who swam across the Main River to reach his princess on the other side lived happily ever after: all is well is their kingdom. It can really happen!
Tyrone Wylie is sort of the yin to John Ellis’s yang. They counterbalance each other philosophically but share the traits of authenticity, courage, and intelligence. The lesson I learned from Tyrone is that only by talking with people with different perspectives and truly listening to them, can we bring about a better world.
Carl Caruso, son of an American MP who guarded Nazi war criminals at the Nürnberg Trials and a German mother who had survived Allied bombing raids, is evidence that seemingly intractable differences can be overcome. If wartime antagonists can produce such loyal, devoted, loving offspring as Carl, there is hope for the future of humanity.
Visiting Norbert Issak’s Western themed den of Americana and hearing his story of military service left me with the conviction that America is a state of mind as well as a collection of states. His advice to “learn the rules, and you’ll get along fine” is a universal lesson for all of us.
Dwight and Erika Johnson have encountered and overcome many of the trials that military couples face. Their advice to argue about important issues, but to leave it at the bedroom door, hit home for me. “Fair fighting” is an important skill in a relationship, but one that I have never mastered. I believe that my tendency to avoid conflict contributed to Gerdi’s unhappiness.
Jerry Morrison’s story offers a ray of hope to anyone who was “young, dumb, and full of cum,” or was in a relationship with such a fellow. Eventually, most of us grow up. Jerry’s lifetime interest in sports, his cultivation of that interest in his own sons, and his commitment to building character in youth through sports, is evidence of that.
Finally, my interview with Thomas O’Connor, former Chaplain’s Assistant, took me back to 1963, when I entered the U.S. Army as a faithful member of Calvary Baptist Church. My lips had never tasted alcohol or the lips of a girl. I was, morally speaking, “tabula rasa,” a blank slate. In the ensuing 56 years, I have filled that slate with a lifetime of stories, noble and not so noble.
At times I wish that my life story were written on a Magic Slate©. I could lift the page, the writing would be erased, and I could rewrite my story, knowing what I now know, including the lessons learned from these men and women. Unfortunately, we each have one go-around in life, as the stories recorded on these pages attest. Perhaps the greatest lesson I learned from this project is that we are all mere humans. We do the best we can, given the circumstances and our own resources.
Gerdi, if you are listening, please know that if it were possible, I would do it all over again—but better this time.
