sad days

I've spent some time - years to be honest, many years and I am not finished - trying to understand the war trauma of my parent's generation, the people who were kids during the nazi years, who became adults when WWII was over, started careers, a family, a life with modest luxuries, healthcare, safe pensions, the lot.

One of the many books I have read on all of this and one that I have come back to repeatedly deals with the silent ruins the war left behind. The unspoken guilt, shame, loss, fear and so on that was passed on to the next generation. The way we were made to finish what was on the plate no matter how long it took, whether it made you gag or whether you were sent to eat it on the back door steps, the way we were never allowed to be idle, not allowed to waste time, always showing to the world that we were on the way to achieve something, shape something, make something of ourselves, the way we were told that "a real person does not feel pain" and sent to school with a fever, the way we were to suffer the strange unreasonable punishment procedures, the silent treatment, the never ending fear of your mother falling apart.

The war experiences of our parents as children, as teenagers were never really shared, only sometimes mentioned in passing or when we were given what my mother called "war food", soup made from old bread, potato peel, or the dreaded turnips. All we got was fragmentary knowledge, diffuse impressions that we tried to understand and fit into our own childhood experiences. 

I know now, many years later, that all this, the unspoken, the unspeakable, the things nobody wanted to remember and yet could never forget, has seeped into my own unconscious, has shaped my generation's fears and nightmares. 

In a conversation, a friend who is about my age mentions that the first thing she did after it became apparent in the last week that the US government is handing matters to Putin was to stock up on food and water and check all the locks. She laughs and shakes her head, what on earth did I do that for? And yet, I did the same, and more. 

I watch videos where seasoned army generals explain what to expect in case, when and how the next Russian cyber attack may hit, the electricity networks, water supply, railway systems? I check the distance between the US troop bases in Germany and my city, my mind swirling with movie images of invading soldiers. 

Below is a photograph by Lee Miller, the famous and courageous war time photographer, taken on this day in March 1945. What you see is the ruins of the Münsterplatz, one of the main city center areas of the city that has been our home for over 30 years now. You see a large bronze statue of the city's famous son, Ludwig van Beethoven, erected on his 75th birthday in August 1845. I wonder if the GI in this picture knew any of Beethoven's music. But who cares, what matters, then and today, is that he and all of his fellow troops came to this dreadful country that had caused such unspeakable horror and death, so that it once again could become a democracy, where my parents could live their adult lives without war, where I could live my life in peace without ever wasting a breath questioning it. So far.

When I walk down to the river, as I do on most days, I pass a memorial plaque for the Hodges bridge, a pontoon bridge the US forces built between March and April 1945, enabling US troops to cross the river Rhine, enabling a ceasefire and thus eventually within weeks, the end of WWII. 

If I cycle south for maybe a half hour, depending on the direction of the wind, I'll reach the remains of the bridge at Remagen, which was a critical strategic river crossing captured by US forces in March 1945 . Maybe you have seen the 1969 movie version of the battle and the dramatic collpase of the bridge.

 

I have never been to the American continent, despite the fact that many members of R's Irish family have travelled, worked, lived there, several are still living there (and elsewhere on the planet). But traces of the US are everywhere in my country, so many ties, so much to celebrate, enjoy, share. Travellers, students, colleagues, companies, so many friends. So much we have taken for granted and with gratitude, endless inspirations, thoughts, words, music, fun. Oh the fun!

On now, people have started to check out #UnplugTrump suggestions, beginning to say goodbye to US big tech, looking through the surprising selection of ad-free, independent apps and open source platforms. I watch people scanning items with madeometer.com and in the shops, suddenly we have become careful and discerning customers. A twelve step program for independence. Digital and beyond.

It feels strange but at the same time, so obvious, so easy, so weird. So sad. So very sad.