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In Green Bay Waters - A. J. Westphal
Table of Contents
German School
You Have Everything
A Family Tree
Five Generations
The Year 1871
Holocaust of Flame
Deutschland
Julius and Minnie in Wisconsin
Anna and Emil
Riverside Cemetery
Seymour High School
Brian Vogel
Lunchroom Brawl
This Wild Country
A Dream House in Door County
Hitler Youth
A Family Wedding
Modern Southern Gents
City Slicker
Crosshill High School
The Holocaust Museum
Daydreams and Nightmares
Return to the Bay
Daughters
Bibliography
Copyright © 2017 by A.J. WESTPHAL
Mill City Press, Inc.
2301 Lucien Way #415
Maitland, FL 32751
407.339.4217
www.millcitypublishing.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
ISBN-13: 97815456019214
Printed in the United States of America
Legend has it that there is an island where the original Wisconsin trees still stand. It is in the middle of Lake Michigan. No lumberjacks or prospectors in the state could reach it. And so, the giant oaks, maples, walnuts, and pines were left to tower so high it would be as dark as night if you stood in the middle of it. On the shore of the island, the winds were so strong coming off the lake that they would whistle and howl through the pines like lost souls. The crashing waves on the rocks would answer the howl: Reme mber me.
As a child, Maddie looked out over the horizon from her Great-Grandparents’ house on the banks of Shore Drive and imagined she could see that island, just in the distance. But it was only Green Island. Though that was still a worthy adventure, for her Grandma had gone there as a child to find a boy who lived in a lighthouse. Nevertheless, Maddie never lost her ambition to find that unscathed island; to find what purity and nature really looked like before the ancestors got to it.
Chapter 1
German School
Year 2016
She had to admit, she was slow to open her van door. Visions of WLUK five o’clock news crime reports from Milwaukee flickered through her mind like an overheated computer activating the fans, RAM over loading.
This was an old part of town. Our Savior Lutheran Church stood in front of her in the crumbling parking lot. Its old-world Gothic architecture clashed with the shiny silver fence and barbed wire that surrounded the building.
Fear ran through her body, and she became an alert animal. Outwardly, she attempted a cheerful confidence as she tried to pull her five-year-old daughter out of the minivan.
I want to go home,
said the child quietly, as if the old church could hear.
Damn, it isn’t just me, thought Maddie.
It was a sunny Saturday morning in September—or was it? The sun almost seemed fake; how can the sun shine in such a foreboding place?
Come on, we are just going to see if we want to sign up for German class.
Huh?
said the five-year-old, Heidi.
German—it’s another language.
"Oh. Uno, dos, tres…"
No, that’s Spanish,
explained her mother tiredly. We speak English, and we might learn German. Now, come on!
Maddie opened the back door quickly so as not to change their minds.
The darkness hit them first as their pupils grew larger and the room faded in. Tan asbestos tile flooring lined the staircase, and a strange-looking brown pleather chair attached to a track on the wall that lead up and down—handicap access. Maddie didn’t want to imagine the misery that that chair had known.
Then, the stale odor seized their lungs. Was it the lack of ventilation? The smell of church dinners that had been cooked into the walls for decades? It smelled of old meat—chicken, probably. Stained glass windows weren’t made for easy opening. The heat was stifling as sweat beads developed on her neck. What? No central air? she thought vehemently.
Maddie was accustomed to her suburban home with a newly minted central air system. Although, as a child growing up in the country, Miss Madeline (Maddie) Wells didn’t have such luxuries. In that old house, Maddie could still remember the feel of sticky varnish coming off the chairs in the summer, it was so humid. Her father would respond, ‘it is only hot for a few days in Wisconsin,’ when his children complained that they needed air conditioning. Maddie’s maiden name, Wells, was translated and changed from Studjenske when her paternal great-grandparent immigrated from Germany. Or, at least that is what she was told. The stuffy room, in a strange way, reminded her of her roots.
A crudely drawn arrow on a sheet of notebook paper pointed to Registration
down the stairs. Despite every instinct to flee, she walked down the stairwell with poise.
Thankfully, she heard talking. Maddie entered the large basement room. A woman in a mock traditional nineteenth-century German dirndl approached her.
Guten Morgen,
she said, overly cheerful. Registering for German class?
Maddie was so relieved to see people again. Living, breathing people! She quickly scanned the area and saw that the oldest seemed to be in their fifties, so phew—no World War II war criminals. She mustered out a yes, then began to explain more.
My daughter—wait—where is she?
Heidi was in the hallway still, arms pulled in, hands near her mouth, with a big-eyed nervous look. Maddie tried to excuse it as five-year-old shyness…but she knew. She could feel it too.
Chapter 2
You Have Everything
W hy do you want to take German class?
her husband asked, bewildered and slightly annoyed.
It’s just another language, and I’m a language person—remember?
Maddie, short for Madeline, was a high school English teacher well before she decided to stay home with her babies. She also had a minor in Spanish. German was another box to check on her infinite things to learn
list. As an academic, it was her right—no, her duty—to know, well, everything. Maddie noticed her spouse’s expression and couldn’t tell if he was irritated that they would have to spend money on a class or if he was opposed to the language choice. Equally irked Maddie shot back,
You know, you watched too many horror films growing up. They warped your brain. Now you can’t separate Germans from Nazis. That’s like thinking all Russians are spies or all Muslims are terrorists. Sometimes you just end up on the other side of the wall, or iron curtain, okay. Not everyone comes from a country where they can choose their politics.
Tell that to the Jewish people,
he chided.
Maddie knew he had a point. She had come to this conclusion countless times. She was still in contact with an old friend that was raised Hebrew. She