Be Curious

By Renate v.K. Ruzich

Writing her first book “Jumping Of The Devil’s Shoulder” was often heartbreaking for Renate v.K. Ruzich. But her new life after WWII showed her how beautiful and interesting the world can be.
This book tells her stories about experiences, events and places that will always stay in her mind. These stories are sometimes funny, sometimes strange, but always have opened new views to her. She wrote this in the hope that stories will make people open to their surroundings and also find the beauty in places and events that make life happier. These stories are all true and will surprise many readers.
So look around and “wonder”. Then follow up and see what YOU find!
Renate decided to publish her book in larger print to make it easier to read for young and old. Have fun!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546262442

Renate v.K. Ruzich

In Germany, there is a saying that one who cheats death, either through luck or resourcefulness, has jumped off the devil's shovel. Renate Ruzich is such a woman. Renate grew up as the daughter in an aristocratic family in East Prussia, Germany, on an estate that had been in her family for five hundred years. In 1945, at the age of eighteen, she had to join millions of refugees trying to flee from the approaching Soviet Army. Separated from her family two days into their flight, she had only her horse as companion as she struggled westward. During that brutal winter, Renate experienced horrors, deprivations, and looked the devil in the eye many times. In a sea of cruelty, she also witnessed flashes of humanity that gave her the hope she needed to persevere. Mrs. Ruzich did more than just survive the hell of war; she built a new life in the ashes of the old. She even found the love of her life, Rudy, with whom on a clear, sunny morning in 1953, she steamed past the Statue of Liberty into New York's harbor. Renate Ruzich continues to thwart the devil to this day. She has survived a broken back after being thrown from a horse; has beaten kidney, colon, and skin cancer; and has persevered after the loss of her beloved Rudy. Most recently, she survived an automobile accident at the age of eighty-seven. Today Renate lives a quiet life near her beloved Blue Ridge Mountains in Orange, Virginia. She just celebrated her ninetieth birthday. She decided to tell her story that those who have been spared the horrors of war will understand its consequences.

Book preview

1

A Fairy Tale Walk

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My childhood home in East Prussia: Stollen

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Stollen from the back side

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My father and us kids walking into fairyland

W e were so surrounded by sagas and tales that it carried us all our really young years into our current daily lives.

When we were old enough for longer (livelier) hikes with our father, many of those were filled with not only what we saw but what was happening all around us. Some of these were about real life and now and then about tales from long ago. And even now and then there was a real fairy tale.

My brother Gert and I were about 5 years old when these walks around our estate in East Prussia became a very important part to our imaginations. The life and history in our homeland was already filled with old beliefs, customs and fairy tales.

But what we loved most, before the real-world tales became part of our daily lives, were the fairy tales.

And here is one of them.

Our three forests had been there for several hundred years and were taken care of like big treasures. Many, many very old trees were there. Many of them were under State Protection and the best seed providers, keeping the best growing again and again. Some places in these woods had trees so old and tall that the ceilings of the leaves almost formed a dome like in a church. It was darker than other parts of the woods, with all sounds muted and soft. When we had our walks, we often rested there to just listen. Maybe there I learned about the secret of being still?

The ground under and around these areas was often huge moss-covered roots and old stumps. We had a very large number of mushrooms throughout the woods and in some places the fairy mushrooms grew very large. You know those bright red ones with the white dots? There were many all throughout the woods that we saw when we went out to collect the edible ones. BUT they were placed where they grew LARGE! Some as high as our knees and around them many more growing, often in a circle. The people called these fairy circles.

One special lovely bright summer day we set out with our father to what he called a special place. The day was bright but as we entered that special part of the forest, it was much darker. And where we had many birds before, it was now much quieter. There were only some finches and woodpeckers, and the scrabbling of squirrels; the ground was covered with short grasses and deep moss that grew on the large roots of those huge trees.

We sat down around an old stump and my father began: Here in this area is the home of the forest fairies and somewhere in the middle lives their queen.

We were all ears and big eyes. Look over there under those really big firs. Do you see those tall red mushrooms? Now you know not to pick or eat them because their flesh is poisonous, right? But inside the biggest one lives a little man who is a guard for the fairies! From now on you must not talk or make noises. We will slowly and quietly go closer and, maybe we will see one of those little men sitting underneath it in a flower chair taking a nap. And I will only whisper and tell you what all is there.

So, we moved like shadows closer until suddenly we had to stop.

There he is! daddy whispered. And he is reading something. Oh boy, is that mushroom big!

But dad, my brother asks, where does he live? I see no doors or windows.

As we watched a little bird flew down to the ground by the mushroom.

Ah, look at that bird. That is surely one of the messengers of the queen. Sometimes it is a bird or squirrel or even a butterfly. They move around and then report here what they saw and the little man repeats it for his boss.

How? Gert asks again.

That is a secret no one has ever found out. Look, he is getting up. And a door opened at the base of the mushroom – he walked through- and the door closed.

What is he doing now?

There are probably stairs to the roof and most of his other rooms are underground between the big roots.

Then we saw something move on the roof! And we really saw right on top a square door lift. He stepped out, looking all around. Suddenly he must have heard us!!!! He turned around and then he jumped really fast into the door, but stopped there for a mini second and looked in our direction. The door closed down and he was gone!

Did you see that? Dad asked with excitement. He looked right at us!

He tipped his little hat at us! And even smiled at us, we added. Why did he do that? Is he not afraid of us?

Maybe he knows us and knows that we take good care of his and the fairies’ home, our father answered seriously.

When we went carefully nearer, we could really see a fine line where the door had been.

Where is he now?, we asked.

Probably way down in between those large roots where his home is, our dad replied.

Is he, maybe still watching us from another mushroom? Gert wondered. Excited and in awe we still tiptoed quietly home.

There we told everybody that we really saw the little guard and he even waved at us! Really! Did Dad use a fingernail to make those door lines? Maybe not!!

2

Ghosties

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I t was a late and dark winter afternoon on the farm at home in East Prussia in Germany. In our part of the world it got dark early and by five in the evening it is deep night. The family was in different parts of the house while I was upstairs in my room doing homework. We always had our evening meal at 7 pm and this time was getting close.

Sitting there peacefully I suddenly heard footsteps racing down the long hallway upstairs. My brother’s and my room were at the very end of a long corridor that had two huge pillars down the middle where the chimneys from the downstairs wood stoves were contained.

My door burst open and my brother rushed in, out of breath. Slamming the door shut behind him, he leaned against it and in a screechy excited voice told me that he just made it here in time before a ghost got him in the hall! We believed in ghosts because our Grandfather, who had passed away long time ago- had been seen by several people after his death.

I was skeptical. But not really sure.

No, really! Don’t laugh! he whispered still out of breath. As soon as I was at the top of the stairs there was a scratchy, swishing sound behind me with every step I took. All the way to the door here. And when I stopped, it stopped also! Really! And by the way, dinner is ready and I’m supposed to get you.

Of course, I laughed and told him that his imagination was getting the best of him. But - I was not so sure either.

Alright, let’s see what happens when we go together!

The house was very large and we did not have electricity yet. Every evening the butler and the upper floor maid lit a kerosene lamp for almost every room in the house. But for the upstairs hallway there was only a fairly small lamp like a wall sconce that threw deep shadows into the corners and behind those pillars.

So, we quietly and carefully stepped out of my room onto the wooden floorboards of the hallway. Listening intently, we heard nothing. Slowly we started to walk – and there it was!!! With every step we took we heard the swishing sound!! For a few seconds we froze. But when it started to follow us with the next steps, we flew down the hallway, down the winding stairs and into the living room, where our father was reading the newspaper.

Excited and out of breath we told him about the ghost that is upstairs and had followed us right down the steps. Could he, please, come and see what it was?

Thoughtfully he listened to the whole story. Looking closely at us, checking us over, he started to laugh. We were shocked at this reaction and assured him that our story was really true! We both had heard it!!!

Then he pointed at my brother’s boots and with a smile suggested that he remove a long piece of straw that was stuck on his heel and had been dragging on the wooden floors with every step, making that scary noise!

At first, we felt like idiots but then realized how really funny it had been. From then on when we wanted a good laugh, we would only make that sound in a scary voice to cause us to break out into howls of laughter.

3

Christmas In Stollen

C ontrary to today’s commercialism and the hubbub around the holidays, the Christmas season at home was all about the holidays and the preparations for it. We children believed in the Christmas Child, Santa and all the angels.

And during all the preparations, the old sagas and customs of the Nordic feast with all its tales were a full part of it.

The preparations started as early as the beginning of October, when the cook prepared the dough for the special cookies. It was put in huge clumps into big ceramic bowls that were kept in a cool place and worked and turned several times before they were considered ready for baking. Since we were a very large household, the number of cookies and homemade candies was almost like in a store! It had to be enough for big plates for the household of twenty on the average, but also for many friends and business people. And then there were the sweet plates for all our village people. On those and the ones for us kids even an orange could be found.

Anyway, the whole house smelled like the most wonderful bakery for almost two months and it was the only time in the year when we children were allowed to spend a lot of time in the kitchen helping, especially in the evenings, when most of the regular work was done.

During this time the old sagas were told while sitting in front of the huge fireplace in the living room. We six kids and as many or more dogs would sprawl on a big moose skin and try to out- tell each other with stories from olden times.

Many of the old customs were maintained. We children would listen at night for the wild herd of Thor and his followers. They were scouring the land for a place to rest and rob. To stop them from landing on our land, there were large bundles of straw tied to big trees along the roads that crossed into our farm. That way they would rest there and not come further.

Candles inside pumpkins and under a big sheet looked like ghosts and kept other bad ghosts away. The four Sundays before Christmas, the Advent Sundays, were also special days. A small tree was put on the open porch and decorated with candles and cookies, homemade decorations and all kinds of goodies for the birds. When a bird did come, despite all the decorations, it was an especially good sign.

On Saturday evenings the children put a pair of shoes outside their bedroom doors and hoped that St. Nicholas would come and put candy in them. But if we had been especially naughty during that week, we might have found a piece of coal or a little switch instead. What a tragic event that was! Because it all counted toward the real Christmas gifts!

On a night shortly before the 24th, the young men in the villages would get together and dress up in costumes that symbolize different things that were hoped for in the new year. They would go from house to house banging a cymbal, bells and horns and hence they would invade and terrorize the families, especially the girls. The leader wore the shape of a white horse, tied around his waist, referring back to the riders in the sky.

The others were a miller, who daubed everyone as a sign to always have bread.

Another was a chimney sweep, whose coal-black hands left marks as a sign of good luck. That stuff was sticky and nasty and everyone tried to get away.

Then there was the clown to encourage joy.

A male goat was for all the bad things that can happen. He really bumped hard!

Then there was the stork, who went especially after the girls and women predicting babies and was avoided at all cost. An old woman carried a big basket into which the toll in sweets and money was put. The bigger the haul, the less terror was inflicted!

We children would try to hide in wardrobes or under the beds but were always found, of course. A fantastic night and lots of fun was had by all.

A few days before Christmas the tree was brought into the house. It was BIG. Long before this time the woods were searched for the top of a tree with the most even shape and height. Those trees were large and had already been chosen to be cut that season. As the rooms were almost twelve feet tall, the tree had to be big to reach from floor to ceiling and almost twenty feet wide.

Then came the decorating that was done only by our father and the butler because a big step ladder was needed. Plus, it was the biggest event and every year a surprise when on Christmas Eve the large double doors were opened and the tree was seen for the first time in all its glory. It shone with 365 beeswax candles, one for each day of the year. Silver bulbs were hung deep enough between the branches to fill the depth and the tinsel was hung one at a time from each branch reaching out to appear like a small silver waterfall. It looked like a lovely silver veil over the whole tree. No