My beloved Grandma, the NAZI.

My Grandma had some great stories, she loved telling them, and more loved when people listened.  She came to visit in the fall of 2010 for Thanksgiving.  While she was here one of my mom's students heard her speak and interviewed her for one of his classes.  My Grandma went back to her home in northern Maine and died on 12/21/10.  I am so thankful to have these videos of her.  I think they are amazing stories and would love to share them with the world.  

You can check out the stories here.  &   I thought it might be cool to mix her telling her stories with me telling about her and her stories.

My Grandma was born in German on Valentine's Day 1928.  She lived in a small rural town, her father was a school teacher and later a principle, her mother a housewife.  One of her most memorable stories is from the day the Americans came and liberated a work camp in her town.  See when the Germans went to war all the men were drafted or signed up for the army.  Their women didn't go to work in their factories like Americans, the NAZIs basically conscripted conqured people to work their factories.  There were very strict rules for them, one of the biggest was they couldn't drink.  So once the Americans came through and liberated the camp the first thing they did was to go out and get rip roaring drunk.  Two of these guys, who happened to have been Polish, were walking down the street in front of my Grandma's house.  The neighbor boy started teasing them and taunting them.  One of the drunken Polish guys makes like he is gonna go after the kid and his friend tries to stop him so the first drunken dude pulls out a knife and stabs the guy right in the eye.  The neighbor boy takes off and runs behind my Grandma's house and over their fence and is gone into the farmer's field behind their house.  The drunken dude chases him and my Grandma's mom was out back haning up laundry and she runs in the back door and locks it then runs out the front of the house.  My Grandma and her friend were putting trunks into the attic for some reason.  The guy starts banging at the back door and uses his knife to try to pry it open or stab it open.  He ends up cutting his hand in the process.  Eventually he breaks the door down.  When my Grandma hears the commotion she and her friend hide in the attic and pull up the retractable stairs.  A moment later they hear this faint voice calling "Help, help I wanna come up too."  It was my Grandma's Grandfather.  So she lowered the latter down and helped him climb the stiars and they hid in the attic.  

The polish guy went from room to room slashing up feather beds and checking everywhere, under the beds, in closets, in cabinets, hunting for that neighbor boy.  They know because they found his bloody handprint everywhere.  My Grandma's mom went out front and managed to stop this passing Jeep full of Americans.  In what little English she knew she convinced one of the guys to go in the house and get that drunk guy out.  They weren't cops so they just sent the guy on his way.  He ended up going across town and killed an old lady in a wheelchair.  

My Grandma ended up marrying an American soldier who happened to use this building across the street from her house as like a garage for their trucks.  When they were going to get married here in the States, being good Catholics, they went for counsling from their local priest.  He felt too embarrasssed telling this young German girl about a wife's duties plus she didn't speak real good English and he didn't speak German, so they got this other priest from New York to come and give her that counsling.  They got to talking because he had been an Army Chaplin in Germany.  He said ... funny thing .... this one time this German woman flagged down my jeep to make me get some drunken polish dude out of her house ... 

Small world aint it?  


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