In my childhood years, especially between ages 5-10, there was no room to be timid.
Our family, having lived in Poland prior to WW2, ended up in 1944 as Fluchtlinge (refugees) in our own home country. A somewhat different concept from our present understanding of refugees. Escaping just ahead of the advancing Russian army, refugee camp Luckenwalde represented a safe haven, as my dad was still out fighting a war. From Luckenwalde our family was transferred to Meissendorf, Lower Sachsen, where my dad re-united with his family in 1945, after the war was over. This resulted in Meissendorf, a hamlet of a few farms, a kind of general store, a one room country school and a few houses, becoming my birthplace, and home for the first five years of my life.
As part of a countrywide Umsiedlung initiative, our family was in 1952 relocated to Kaldenkirchen. At that time our family of eight, consisted of my parents, two older brothers, one older sister, my grandmother (mother’s side) and my mother’s younger sister, handicapped by polio for life, in her early teens. I remember sleeping on the floor of the train on our trip to Kaldenkirchen, and the first night at our new living quarters, a three-room unit in a social housing six-plex, that ended up being our home for the next five years. The apartment was brand new, but also built from concrete block, cold, damp and unfinished. I remember we were already all stretched out side by side on mattresses on the concrete floor, when someone knocked at the door. That someone ended up being from the Red Cross with a pail full of warm milk soup. The building did not yet have lighting, so dinner was served with the aide of some kind of lantern.
I doubt that the Good Samaritan left with anything more then residue in the pail. When you are seriously hungry you will eat anything and appreciate it to. Nobody ever liked Milchsuppe, but it was part of our regular menu for some time. My mother, being the cook, promoted the great nutritional values of this dish, but even with her encouraging sales pitch, the final product was literally hard to swallow, and at times to keep down, but hunger overcomes.
Our apartment was located in one of two social housing districts of Kaldenkirchen, it was definitely a time where we found ourself at the low end of the hierarchical pecking order.
Having little more then the clothes on our bodies and a few suitcases, living at, what easily could be referred to a “little old country Bronx”, may sound pretty discouraging, and yet there was a sense of hope and optimism.
My dad had a job lined up.
We had indoor plumbing. No bathtub, but running cold water, and a flushing toilet, a first since arriving in Germany years ago.
There was a proper grade 1 to 8 school in town
If we lived in the Bronx, the other social hosing district was worse and known as the Mau-Mau.
There was opportunity, and my parents were determined to seize it. They knew there was no “get rich quick” scheme, they accepted that it would take time. One of my parent’s great achievement was their mastery of delayed gratification. The only resources they had was their willingness to work at anything, and the life skills and principles they had learned from their parents. There was no higher education, but high self esteem, and basic life skills were taught. Not through any specific curriculum but through consistent life lessons. In hindsight, it went a little like this:
Lesson one: Have and show confidence in yourself, head up, chest forward.
Acknowledge your position in the socio/economic hierarchy, but don’t accept it as permanent, and don’t let it impact your feelings of self-worth.
To allow for you to be genuine in your posture, you don’t lie, you don’t steal, and you don’t beg, plus all related don’ts. With corporal punishment being a generally accepted practice, teaching at the time, involved a lot less arguments, and learning progressed at a faster pace than nowadays.
Simultaneously to getting the rightful penalty for your wrongdoing, and feeling the belt burning your rear end, there seems to be a burning-in or imprinting at the brain, that remains as a effective “reference point”. I’m not trying to promote the return to corporal punishment. All I am doing is sharing real life experiences, that can be verified by millions of people in my age group. Admittingly, it took some years for me to realize the truth and value in “short term pain for long term gain.”
Lesson two: There must be order.
You get up in time, you make your bed, you groom yourself, have breakfast and go diligently about your assigned task, doing the best you know how.
There was no opportunity to sleep in. Our mother would call once, maybe twice. The second call implied a certain urgency. If the urgency was not responded to with the appropriate speed, I would feel the cover ripped of, and a cold hand slapping at whatever naked skin was closest.
With the fewest of exceptions, this approach invoked the mentioned “reference point” in my brain and saved my mother (and me) from needless trips to my sleeping quarters.
Lesson three: You carry on to higher education or learn a trade.
In my youth, higher education was definitely harder to get for low income people. Mother had to stay home to look after the household and children, dad only made enough to afford us the very basics, and even that had to be curtailed a many time. Everyone needed to get ready to chip in as soon as possible.
In spite of the extremely tough times, our parents always acted in the best interest of their children. Being fourteen years old, and unsure about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life (becoming a sailor on the high seas was apparently not an acceptable proposal), my mother took me on the bus to a neighboring city for an apprenticeship interview. I was accepted and had the privilege of learning a trade. During those three and a half years, I continued to benefit from my parents steady reminders about lessons one and two.
In summary, all five of us children ended up significantly elevating our socio/economical status. Everyone had a different set of gifts and limitations, but we all advanced, because we followed some basic rules for life.
As basic and simple as those rules for life are, looking at today’s world, I feel grateful for having grown up during a time, when those rules where advocated and expected to be followed.
Throughout my life, one thing never failed, the more I followed the outlined life rules, the higher I ended up on the socio/economic hierarchical scale, and the more privileges I could afford.
The beauty is, that the described success formula is available to anybody. It requires no financial outlay, no special status or IQ. All it takes is a decision, and the willingness to follow proven rules.
Until next time HorstT