STORY FOUR

EXCURSIONS AND ADVENTURES OF A COUNTRY PUMPKIN

OR

WHY COULDN'T THEY KEEP THAT KID AT HOME

Don't know who planned it that way, but it all started with my initial arrival in Linz some two months earlier than normally anticipated. Guess there was some mighty anxious excitement over the event. It was, as was normal in those days, a home delivery. The actuaries for seven month olds surviving were less than dismal. They, my parents, had a problem and I as the sole focus of the problem never disappointed them. They felt a strong urge to fight the odds because I was their firstborn and a son. To this end then they committed themselves towards doing everything in their power to save me. Little did they know that they needn't have tried so hard. Little did they know the trouble that lay in store for them by having saved me. Its odd that even at that age, which surely must have been under one, some vivid memories come to mind. I distinctly remember being placed on some type of apparatus in a strange place where an unusual violet or bluish light shone over me for a long time. Perhaps I was being taken for an ultra-violet treatment in an incubator at a distant hospital facility, in Budweis. I also clearly remember seeing some elderly persons who seemed to have open sores or lesions on their legs. At any rate this visitation was repeated for a number of times, until I suppose the parties concerned felt that I would make it.

A few years later, perhaps when I was four, my father's mother, or my grandmother who also lived in the village took me along to the big city. We got a lift in a wagon to the train station and later boarded the train that was to take us to Budweis after a three hour ride. It was so exciting for me. Watching the big engine pull alongside the station platform with those huge iron wheels squeaking to a screeching halt, the thump of the engine, the hissing of steam, and the various clanging and crunching as some cars were being decoupled while others were being added on. I just took it all in and wished I could have become a railroad engineer right there and then. The passenger car itself was a marvel to me with all those compartments, fine wooden trim and upholstered bench seats. It was fun looking out the windows and seeing the countryside roll by. You could just see everything so clearly. The farmers in the fields, the animals grazing, the long line of telegraph poles, and you could catch a glimpse of the whole train as it went around a bend. Best of all however, was when the train blew its whistle and suddenly everything went dark as it went through a tunnel. Well we stayed at a larger hotel right on a square in the big city, after which a famous brand of American beer was named incidentally, and I was so impressed when I got out of bed late in the evening, while grandmother was asleep, and looked out of the large windows onto the square to witness all the bright lights, and flashing signs, the cars and the buses with their lights on that I didn't want to get into bed for a long, long time.

The next year my father, who had some business reasons to visit Budweis took me along as well. Wow, what a treat, two visits to the big city in just two years. All the other village kids were really jealous because just one or two had ever been there and they would ask me all kinds of things. I recall having accompanied my father to a number of shops and towards noon he took me with him to a very fancy restaurant. I had never seen a place with so much silk and lace and so many well dressed persons eating at elegant tables. My father ordered, what to me seemed a most delicious fare of little open-faced sandwiches of different shapes and each prettily laden with a variety of wonderful foods. I had no trouble in cleaning up my platter. Then as a super treat I was brought some hot chocolate with a large piece of thick chocolate cake. It was just thoroughly delicious. To the bargain we had a table next to the window so I could see the activity on the outside, which to me was fascinating. While my father was talking to the waiter, and preparing to pay his bill, I finished all my food, down to the last crumb, and since my hands were chock full of sticky thick black chocolate, I proceeded to wipe them clean, very, very neatly. A few moments later, there was a big commotion and a small crowd of waiters and other finely dressed men stood around our table talking in very agitated voices to my father and pointing at me. What could possibly have gone wrong I asked myself; after all I hadn't left my father's side. Well there was a simple answer. I was told in a stern voice by my father that I shouldn't have wiped my hands and face clean in the silk curtains gracing the panel windows. I didn't know that, but I quickly learned. Never, ever again did I repeat it. Unfortunately that isn't the end of this episode. For, you see, while my father was making reparations, and was very involved, I slipped out from under the table on the other side and wandered outside. Luckily for me there was a large bus standing there with the doors open and the motor running. I climbed up and found no one inside, not even the driver. Need I say more. I sat down behind the wheel and made believe I was the driver. I guess I fiddled with some of the handles, and levers, and presto, before you knew it, the bus took off. I thought I heard a lot of screaming and shouting and people waving their arms. After a minute or two the driver, who had gone into the restaurant to get something, realized that his bus wasn't there, ran out and chased the bus down the street. Luckily he caught it before any real damage was done. Oh my, I received a lengthy verbal and even a lengthier physical lecture from the driver as well as my father, but I guess it was worth it. That was the last time my father took me to the big city.

We did go to more local towns that were in the general area, usually some three to four hours walk away. One of the towns, Rozemberg was special to me. It lay astride a bend in the Moldau and was very picturesque. Just this side of the river, before you crossed a long stone bridge, was my uncle's house. He was always very nice to me and gave me lots of small treasures that make little boys hearts beat faster. When we ate with his family, there was always lots of nice food and for us, a special treat, fresh citrus fruit. Many times he would escort us to the castle of Rozemberg, which forbiddingly overlooked the river and the town. It was fully restored, and served as a local and perhaps national museum. I loved to visit it and see all the hundreds of swords lining the walls, and the armored suits, mallets, chains and other chivalrous weaponry. But I also saw beautifully polished furniture in large cavernous rooms, together with paintings and similar accessories. It took most of the day to tour the castle and roam around the huge fortress like walls with their walkways and towers. I never tired of visiting there. On the way home we would stop at a halfway inn where we would be treated to sausage and a tasty type of sparkling pop.

My mother too, took us on some trips but in the opposite direction. I remember one trip in particular where we had a chance to take the train to a different larger city, to Linz. This was really a big city with lots of smoke stacks, long and tall buildings, ships on the river, trains and lots of houses and buildings wherever you looked. It was her town where she grew up and went to school and she had many friends there. As it was one of them stopped to talk to her and while she was busy doing that my youngest sister, who was along, promptly boarded an electric street car when it stopped in front of us. I tried to get my mother's attention, but she took awhile before noticing me since she was talking to a former schoolmate. Once she did let me tell her what happened she panicked, shouting my child, my child - but then quickly composing herself she took the next car and followed it clear to the end of the line where my sister was waiting in custody of one of the employees. My mother was greatly relieved. The next day, as a special treat, she took us on a cog train that went up the town´s hill, the Poestlingberg to an underground amusement park, something like a haunted house and ride park combination, where we spent an exciting and joyful day.

Perhaps the most liked and longest stay for me out of the village was arranged for one summer by my father, when he rather cleverly I thought, arranged for a distant city girl to stay in our village and learn a little about country life, while packing me off to the recipient family in Teplice to learn more about city life. It wasn't as bad as I had feared. They had a son as well, about my age and we hit it off from the start. There were a lot of ways we amused ourselves during the coming weeks and some were somewhat uncouth, but of course we were boys at heart. The home that I stayed at was right on a busy city street with shops and sidewalks. The house also had a second story balcony. When it was dark the two of us would go on the balcony and try to sprinkle the pedestrians below. We used our own tools and water resources; terrible. The family was in the baking business and even owned an automobile. They also raised talking crows as a hobby and pickled their own cucumbers. They had a large backyard with lots of geese which were stuffed with some finger long food pellets twice daily to fatten them up. Once, in my honor, they prepared a banquet style meal for me, complete with roast goose and all the trimmings. The lady of the house sliced me a generous portion of goose and filled my plate with all kinds of delicious food. I finished everything on my plate except the thick, fatty skin. They were all surprised because to them that was the most delicious part of the entire meal. They also went to get milk from a close-in to the city farm every morning for use in the bakery. They did this, not by using their car, but with the use of a special little milk wagon that two very large dogs were hitched to, just like two horses. My host buddy and I went along with some hired help on several occasions and it was a lot of fun. We got to ride in the wagon while the large metal milk containers were empty, but when they were full, we had to walk back. We took turns leading the dogs back with their full load, although they most likely could find their way better than we - but it was fun. That is till one such day, when it was my turn to lead the dogs while the wagon was loaded with full milk containers. We came to the top of a hill which really wasn't all that steep, but somehow I managed to step in front of the dogs while they were starting to trot downhill and I tripped and got caught in their harnesses. The dogs became frightened, since that was probably a new experience for them as well as myself, and started to run with that fully loaded wagon dragging me along. Finally, at the bottom of the hill, they got over their fright and listened to the commands which were frantically being shouted by the others telling them to stop. They untangled me from the harnesses and luckily, except for a really badly scraped elbow and some tears in my shirt, I made it with everything else intact. It was really an enjoyable summer for me and to my surprise, I thoroughly loved it. Later, after returning home, my cohorts told me that the exchange girl was so chubby that they nicknamed her, the steam engine. She probably didn't fare so well among the country kids who are apt to be more crude and less polite.

It was school time again and this time, this fall, I really couldn't adjust to sitting in class all day, especially after such a different and exciting summer. So I found one of my cohorts who felt like me and we started to cut school. It wasn't hard to do at first. The school was located some one hour's walk from the village. When we left home, our parents naturally assumed that we would go to school. Actually we found a very nice orchard picked the largest tree, and spent the days talking about everything, except school. Naturally, the apples were there for the taking and we were careful not to be observed by anyone. This went on for almost two weeks and we had a devishly good time. Then, as one would expect, my teacher visited our house, for he thought I might have been sick. Although his assumption was incorrect at the time he spoke with my father, he had a unique gift of predicting the future, because it wasn't but a few minutes after that discussion that I had to be confined to bed with a very sore rear end for several days thereafter. This event made me realize how much I missed school and I was a regular attendee thereafter.

Now, my dear reader, since this is surely a second completely different occasion when you have turned to this STORY as a final, desperate attempt to get some sleep, I do hope you found it sufficiently boring to have done the job. But if I failed, and one cannot always rule out the almost non-existent chance of that, please turn to STORY FIVE. Thank you.

©1990 Herbert Holzbauer

published @1996 edition S.p.N.LAUB

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