Odds Against Me: Fractured Memories

PART 1: TRANQUILITY

CHILDHOOD

Bruckenthal evokes my fondest memories. With nostalgia I recall walks through immense wheat fields - a huge yellow ocean with slight ripples of waves gently swaying in the summer breeze, a glorious intense orgy of colorful wildflowers interspersed throughout it: the vivid blues of cornflowers, brilliant reds of poppies, immaculate whites of daisies. I was surrounded by nature's best. The sweet fragrance, the breathtaking beauty of it filled me with overwhelming joy. Carried upon the currant of happiness I dang out loud.
On lazy summer days, when the atmosphere became heavy with the heat, I lay down on the cool, dark, rich earth, looking up into the translucent blue sky through hot simmering air. Made drowsy by the monotonous buzz of bees, I let myself overflow with a child's dream. It was the loveliest corner in the world.

PART 2: WAR

REFUGEES



Hour after hour, I, a twelve year old, shuffled behind the wagon, battling harsh howling winds, gust of snow and sleep. Sometimes when slowing down, I could feel the steamy warm breath and hear the occasional snorting of following horses near my ears. What if I should fall down? Would I be trampled to death, rolled over by the churning wheels?
The trek came to a hold. I was fatigued beyond endurance, almost hallucinating. An overturned wagon on the side of the road, the casualty of mortar fire, beckoned me. Next to its dead horse, still in harness, was leaning against an embankment with its head grotesquely twisted and its legs stiffly sticking upward. Large lumps, faintly bearing human shape, were half buried in a snow tomb.
I climbed onto the deserted wagon and curled up between baggage. It snowed heavier. Big beautiful snowflakes floated silently down. Soon, everything would be covered softly, just one white, serene wonderland. I would be asleep, finally blissfully asleep, maybe forever. My eyes closed. I felt myself drifting off peacefully.

PART 3: POSTWAR
BAD OLDESLOE, GERMANY

Hunger was our steady companion. The prayerful sentence "Give us this day our daily bread", so carelessly uttered by many took on an urgent meaning. To subsidize the meager rations, being near the starvation point, Mother and I went foraging for food. Droves of hungry people from the big City Hamburg, joined us in that venture. They came by trains that were filled beyond capacity. Humans were hanging on the outside like overripe grapes. The trains hardly came to a stop, when everyone jumped down and descended on the already harvested fields, in hope of finding leftovers.
We all walked and picked through the scratchy stubble of reaped wheat fields. It was a painful experience. Legs and hands were cut and bleeding. The reward came when found grains were carefully separated from salvaged husks, and Father pounded the kernels into coarse flour. The bread Mother made from it was delicious but hardly enough for five. Putting it into a locked box, she doled it out a few slices at a time.

PART 4: AMERICA! AMERICA!
THE "GENERAL LANGFITT"

I sank down in wet planks in a vacant corner, licking the salty air. Some of my fellow travelers, reeking if garlic, were strolling on deck. Garlic was supposed to be a remedy not only against vampires but also for seasickness. Others, their faces showing greenish hues, joined me. We didn't exchange pleasantries, simply nodded sympathetically whenever one of us left to lean over the railing.
I couldn't bring myself to return to the mess hall. The thought of food repulsed me. Nevertheless, I was hungry. One night, unable to sleep, listening to the snoring around me, the growling stomach and the constant rattle of the nearby engine, I spotted a couple of oranges alongside the bunk. Impossible! My eyes must have deceived me. But no, soon more followed - big juicy oranges. Neither did I care from where they came, nor did I question to whom they might belong. I only knew that nourishment was at hand. I just has to reach out.
Trying to grab one. I promptly fell out of bed. The oranges quickly rolled away. Unsteady on my feet, I followed them. The chase was on. I went up and down, wobbling. Stumbling and crawling on my hands and knees in pursuit of the elusive fruits. The oranges came to rest on one side of the big hall. Gleefully I thought I had them finally within my reach.
Suddenly, the floor rose perpendicularly, and I was thrust down violently. The oranges, as if mocking me, merrily rolled down to the other side and disappeared. I gave up. Struggling to stay upright, dizzily swaying from side to side, I reached my bunk exhausted.

HANKINSON, NORTH DAKOTA

As we left Minnesota, the landscape turned increasingly desolate. The vast stretch of land was dull, dreary and flat as far as I could see, and I could see far. At one point I was informed that Hatkinson, my destination, was the next stop. The train slowed down, brakes screeching as if in protest. Out of nowhere appeared a small wooden structure, bearing bold letters spelling out "Hankinson" The train pulled into the deserted Station. The conductor, with stool in hand, beckoned me to step down. I hesitated briefly, and then obeyed his coaxing. Apparently I was the only passenger disembarking.
The train with the blast of the engine letting off a piercing whistle, was set in motion, gathering speed with the jerky movements. Surrounded by two suitcases, I watched it disappear into the bleak emptiness of the Dakota plaines. The last bond to my past was severed, nothing was left but wind-filled silence.
A harsh gust blew snow across the wide-open flatland., engulfing me. I felt forlorn. Near tears, I looked around. Where on earth was Hankinson?

LOS ANGELES

We got off the bus. My new friend Gladys, purposefully headed towards a big yellow building. A young woman in skintight pants, a clinging sweater and way too much make-up opened the door. Suddenly, she motioned us into a large room. The occupants of that house obviously cherished reds; the overstuffed, velvet clad furniture featured said color. A fat sporting a flashy suit greeted Gladys with familiarity. The sleazy way he stared at me appraisingly from top to bottom was discomforting.
Then realization hit me. Like a lightning bolt. The lucrative job I was promised was nothing but the oldest profession. Gladys and the pimp were engaged in a heated argument over money and, at the moment were oblivious to me. Silently I took the opportunity to steal away. Searching for the exit, I blundered into a kitchen, Flustered in my eagerness to get out, I accidentally opened a closet door and was confronted by an assortment of falling brooms and mops. The third try proved successful. While Gladys and her friend shouted at each other at the top of their lungs, I found the front door, bolted out of the yellow house, and ran until I reached the bus stop.
PART 5: JIM
TAP DANCING CLASS
He walked in one day while we were doing a routine that was particularly vexing to me. One word could describe him: gorgeous! He was tall and slender. His dark hair was longer than the current fashion and very becoming. His most attractive features were his expressive, strikingly dark eyes in a handsome face.
Immediately, the females of the class tried to impress him and win his attention by hoofing it up enthusiastically. I didn't bother showing off my talents. First, I didn't have any, and second, I was realistic enough to know that men of his caliber preferred long-legged girls. Instead I went at my own pace, doing everything wrong.
Noting suddenly that the dark eyes of the stranger followed my efforts with amusement, I became extremely flustered, executed a major wrong turnabout and, to my complete embarrassment, faced a wall of dancers approaching me menacingly. That forced me to do a desperate solo act to escape them.
Later, to my greatest surprise, the handsome stranger approached me and asked in a very pleasant voice, "Will you join me in a cup of coffee?"

PART 6: ADVENTUROUS INTERLUDE
PANAMA
We eventually succeeded in reaching Panama two days before our car arrived. Of course it meant paying for room and board ,which in turn resulted in more depletion of our monetary resources. Still we didn't face reality.
After receiving our car at the harbor of Balboa we proceeded toward our ultimate destination South America.
Our rude awakening to hard facts came at Chepo, where the Pan American Highway stopped abruptly. A big plain sign blocked our way, it read: "Darien Gap - Unpassible." Our journey had come to a definite halt. Our nemesis, the Darian Gap, about 500 miles of swamp and jungle had defeated us.
Unable to cross it by car, we could not afford to take a ship to Columbia. The truth was, we couldn't make it back to the United States any more either. Lacking funds for any transportation. Driving too was out of the question. Calculating gasoline, visas and open hands, there was just not enough money left.

PART 7:MARRIAGE AND FAMILY
DEMONS

One day, tired of following Herb everywhere, guzzling down whiskey on the rocks, Tom Collins, Black Russians, and other assorted alcoholic mixes and suffering endless hangovers, I tried to end the days of poker and booze, fooling myself into thinking that I could leave all that vice behind. Unfortunately, I was unable to shake one, drinking Alcohol. While Herb pursuit his obsession with gambling, I had my own demons to fight.