My street - Henning Sußebach (pic is my parents house back then) this book is about the street you grew up in. 20 authors describe their memories. Because… in your street your way of life begins, your street meant the world to you. Here you scratched your knees when falling with your skates, here you found your first love, here you roamed around in anger when running out of your parent´s house after a fight…. right? Find yourself here, too? I do.
Some authors are “too old” (and guess some will be “too young”, but some things are worth mentioning to me, remembering. Because…
One of the authors grew up in Bochum, his parents had a backyard/garden. One that seemed so large back then and now is only 15 steps wide. Even though it might be cold, the author always feels summer, thinking of his home.
Colors are fading, though. “Everything is as old as I am. The trees, the houses, built in 1972, the year I was born.” Me, too, but my parent’s house was built in the 1930´s. Also… my parents don´t grow old together, as the author´s do.
An interesting concept is also this one: You get your pension as a young adult – this is the time to enjoy life, right? And you work when you get old, what else is there to do anyways? ;-)
In fact there was a man in Icking, Matthias Steiger, who went fishing, played cards, went to races, had heaps of women and met with friends a lot in his younger years. Later he worked hard, even at way over 80 he got up at 5 each working day, no matter how bad the weather was, delivered the newspaper and worked in his kiosk!
The author realizes how beautiful the houses in his old street actually are and remarks he never noticed as a kid. Maybe beauty is no concept for children, he suggests. And better so – a kid should be happy, no matter if in a beautiful or poorer area.
He also wonders what happened if two people talked to each other about the town they grew up in – one who´d stayed and one who´d left.
Can do so with Bro, actually.
Another author, who came back to Lüdenscheid, points out that today kids are outside about 15 hours a week – not even half as long as back then! And how you learned outside, without teachers or parents. Interacting, learning how to skate and all that.
Boy when I think of what we did back then. And no one knew! We picked a steep road and went as fast as our skateboards would go. We picked a street with little traffic and helmets were not known for skaters, either… the same with skates, phew, dangerous. But nothing ever happened apart from a bloody knee here or there.
Now, the author states, kids are protected all the time. Even apple-trees are banned from playgrounds. Windfall could attract wasps, you know? A kid could get stung by one, oh, beware… She says it´s better to take on John Wayne´s motto: Life means: Always get up one more time than you fall down.
I agree.
Wangen… this author remembers summerdays like this: in the late days of summer you often hear rolling thunder and then the first fat drops of rain fall down. So right. Remember the typical smell that came along with it? Where am I now when this happens, in the office?
Berlin. This author grew up in a Berlin that was still marked from war. Kids played in the ruins. Some adult surely was always there, having an eye on them.
I remember how my cousin and I discovered an old hut in her village. Guess it was at risk to collapse any time and no one knew we sneaked in. It was fun! We found old pots and pans and even some clothes. How fascinating to imagine who might´ve lived here and how. Guess I had a lot of luck as an unsupervised kid. Kid…. I also remember with “horror” how I found myself alone in the old Sülte when I was studying… that was life!
These days, the author says, the streets are hunting grounds for child abusers and and race course for those wanna-be Schuhmachers – from our point of view, he adds. Hmmm… I´d be a bad parent. I´d think so indeed and would be way, way, way too careful…
Kiel. Guess I´m not alone with my fear. Also this author realizes that playgrounds these days are “perfect” and clean – and empty. And that many fear psychos near their kids and keep them supervised in a “safer place”. How sad.
She remembers also how her mother sponatously invited a Japanese family who was outside and seemed kinda lost. New neighbours. She asks herself if she´d do this today, invite strangers to your house? Would you? I hope I am still intuitive enough to see if someone is trustable …
Minden. This woman remembers how she sat inside over quiet lunch-time (1-3, as it was) and watched the busses, read what´s written on them and this is what she picked out: J Ä G E R M E I S T E R. Yeah. Is produced in Wolfenbüttel, some 30 or 40 km from here. And she remembers in taxis the driver was separated by safety glass. Really? Today it would make more sense, you might think…
Wolfsburg. The author says usually the cosmopolitan, modern German says “awww, you poor guy!”, when he mentions he grew up in Wolfsburg.
Actually my project in that town for the customer Volkswagen was planned for a length of six months. When it turned out it´ll be a wee bit longer (like now I´m here for 10 1/2 years with it) people warned me not to move to Wolfsburg, it´s so ugly. Quite frankly… I have seen parts of town when searching for a job and thought, ew, ugly. I bet there are nice corners, but I never cared to find out. Heaps and heaps and heaps of Braunschweig people make their way to Wolfsburg to work and head back home as fast as they can.
Like Canberra Wolfsburg was planned from scratch in 1938, for VW, by H. By 1945 material was in short supply and barracks was what they could build only. From 1955 on urban settlements were built and the author states, Wolfsburg is a garden rather than a town. Hm, really?
Potsdam. Another author who grew up in WW II. It´s more a story about war. Sad when a good book ends with this subject.
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