Memories

By Hans W. Glogauer

This book tries to trace the authors family history through a collection of poems and letters among its members as well as friends. They recall the most salient events in their lives. A very short story is also included.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483636665

Hans W. Glogauer

Hans Glogauer was born in Berlin, Germany in 1930. At the age of nine he was sent to boarding schools in England. One year later he his family joined his family in La Paz, Bolivia where he attended school until he turned 16, then worked at various trading houses. He came to New York in 1952 working for a raw-materials mining company and, until his retirement in 2006, at an international paper trading company. He now lives in Scarsdale, NY with Toshimi, his wife of 46 years. He has two grown children are growing twin grandsons.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Hans W. Glogauer.

Cover photo by Toshimi Glogauer

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 08/17/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

133587

Contents

Introduction

Chapter I

Short Story—The Blouse

Chapter II

Toshimi (wife)

Chapter III

Johanna (mother) 1898-1972

Chapter IV

Hanako (daughter)

Chapter V

Kootaro (son)

Chapter VI

Tokyo, Japan

Chapter VII

Friends & Misc.

Chapter VIII

Autobiography

Introduction

Over the years, letters, poems and other bits and pieces, have accumulated and kept in various boxes all over the house.

As I advance in age, much too quickly, I decided to put all this material in book form, so I can leave these papers, some of my more intimate thoughts about family and friends, in such a way that they will stay with them after I am gone.

*      *     *

I want to thank my wife, Toshimi, who inspired many of these poems. She is the most generous, loving and encouraging woman a man could want. She has always extended her love for me unstintingly, even when I really did not deserve it. Without her, I would not be here today.

My thoughts were also with my mother, Johanna, who helped Toshimi and me when we first started out. She had suffered through two world wars, the high elevation of our exile in La Paz, Bolivia, and—lastly—from stomach cancer. I rarely showed my gratitude when she was alive.

I have also included a few of the many letters we received from our children. The most wonderful presents a parent could have.

*      *     *

Chapter I

Short Story—The Blouse

The Blouse

Lilli Stern sat by the window. It was getting dark outside and her gaze fell on her reflection in the glass. She brushed back a strand of her grey hair with a slight, graceful gesture. Yes, her favorite blouse still looked as it had in the beginning—so long ago. It was as if the blouse, in effect, had been the beginning. She passed her hand languidly along the left sleeve, an unconscious mannerism that had become a habit, to make sure the sleeve covered her forearm. Not that she was ashamed of the bluish number imprinted on the skin, but neither was she willing to display it like a trophy.

Lilli looked at her reflection. Yes, Ernst had loved this blouse. Against a cream background a pattern of white and purple lilacs was embroidered with remarkable precision, so delicately designed that you could almost discern their scent. It seemed almost new, even now. Ernst had picked it out for her so many years ago. He said it would always keep her beautiful. Oh, Ernst, she thought, why aren’t you with me now? I miss you so.

Leaning her head against the high chair-back, Lilli closed her eyes and thought back to her wedding day. That had been the beginning of her new life. Her real life. The day Ernst had found the blouse. Nothing before had mattered. Ernst had looked so tall, so slender, so handsome. His smile had become a wide grin when she had joined him at the altar. The rabbi had spoken for a long time but she had heard very little. Her eyes were on the man whom she could soon be able to call her husband. Yes, it was supposed to have been the beginning of a new, wonderful life together.

Lilli shivered. The blouse was thin and the draft through the window was getting chilly. She had tried to close the window, although she knew it would not budge. She had attempted it many times before, but it was stuck just about an inch from the sill. She should wear her sweater, she thought, but then the pretty pattern of her blouse would be covered. She would put on something underneath. Yes, then she would be warm and the blouse still be visible. Ernst would want to see her wearing it.

But something was wrong. That blouse had belonged to her sister, had it not? No, that can’t be. She had no sister. No, Ernst had bought it for her. When she was young and pretty. But Ernst was not here. Why did he leave me? Lilli’s eyes filled with tears. No, that would not do. She had cried herself out of tears years ago. Tears had not helped then and they would not help now. This was not the time to start again. She wanted to think of the two years she and Ernst had spent after their wedding, after their memorable honeymoon near the Mediterranean Sea. He had worked, gone to the office every morning at seven and returned at night, while she took care of the house. She wanted her husband to come back to a clean, inviting home, and she was usually rewarded with his warm smile and strong embrace.

And then everything had changed. First there had been gossip and insinuations. Then threats and officially-sanctioned violence. Ernst had lost his job and they had moved to a small apartment. Finally, one night, long after they had gone to sleep, there had been loud, persistent knocks at the door. Ernst had opened it, still wearing his nightshirt, and they were both taken away. They had barely been given time to dress. She was confused about what exactly had happened after that, except that they had been separated at some point and she had never seen him again. She had not given up looking for him, even when she finally realized it was useless. She had been young and pretty when they took her. She was old and haggard when she was released.

But all that did not matter now when she wore her blouse. Yes, Ernst had bought it for her—but how could that be? No, it could be! It was! This was the last memento she had from her husband. The only reminder of the wonderful beginning. Yes, she had been allowed to keep it. That was it!

Her right hand stroked her left arm. The silk was so soft. Lilli looked out the window. The sandy, white beach was still unspoiled, the gentle waves came and went in a hypnotic monotone, so peaceful. It had been their honeymoon. She closed her eyes once more, a little smile trembling on her lips.

They found her the next morning. A neighbor had alerted the superintendent of the small boarding house. Lilli rarely went out, the neighbor explained, and she had heard Lilli talking to herself last night. And this morning she had not answered the door when the neighbor had come for the usual morning coffee.

They found her sitting by the partly-open window, wrapped in her shabby pink bathrobe, her right hand resting on the left sleeve. She seemed to be smiling at the ugly house across the street, as if the dark, grey wall were the best view in the world.

*      *     *

Chapter II

Toshimi (wife)

TK-yuki-daruma-1-30-1967.jpg

Today

YOU’VE LOST A NAME

BUT JUST THE SAME

I THINK YOU’VE MADE

A VERY GOOD TRADE.

I’VE LOST MY SINGLE STATUS

(WHATEVER THAT IS)

IN ITS STEAD I’VE WON

YUKI-DARUMA-SAN!

A NEW HOME FOR YOU

AND A NEW LIFE TOO.

WELCOME, MY WIFE

FOR THE REST OF OUR LIFE.

From Hans W. Glogauer

June 29, 1967

For My Wife

When three years ago we met by chance,

It was love, for me, at the first glance.

But even so, who would have guessed

The happy years with which I was blessed.

Since then, every day that passes,

I can see clearly (even without glasses)

That I love you more—’till I can say

I can’t be without you even for one day.

When you’re not here and I am alone

The house is empty, all life is gone.

For your return I wait and only ponder

Of life which, once disliked, I now grow fonder.

Today’s your birthday, my lucky day

For without it—where would I be today?

My thanks also to your mother and father

Who were responsible, or so I