Part 62: Unexpected Journey Into Wrestling

Written daily logs had to be kept of everything, which were evaluated in the laboratory. I really liked my job because I had to work with my head and gained experience in driving the plant, which was also checked by the people in the laboratory.

But the new job also had its downside. On weekends, I shut down the mini-production plant to salvage the half-ton of anhydride that had been produced. With the help of a colleague, I shoveled the recovered product ready for shipment into bulky paper bags, which were sealed with wire to make them airtight and watertight. This was a very unpleasant job.

The anhydride looked like coarse-grained salt that had become damp, appeared harmless, but had an extremely intense affinity for water. Every crystal, no matter how small, caused chemical burns on the damp skin. This work could only be done with a breathing mask, safety glasses, and a protective suit.

Despite this weekly inconvenience, I was pleased with myself and the world. In a good six months, I would be taking my skilled worker’s examination as a chemical laboratory technician. I never doubted for a second that I would pass. Working independently on the pilot project boosted my self-confidence, and I would have liked to know why my boss had chosen me of all people for this responsible job.

The mischievous Swabian had probably heard about my participation in the qualification course and wanted to prevent me from leaving his fluctuation-plagued company after passing the exam. I would have done the same as a chamber cleaner. But despite his wise, far-sighted decision, he had to do without my future cooperation, because fate had a different plan.

If the course didn’t prevent me from doing so, I found myself in the large communal toilet in time for closing time. Like all men, I undressed, put my work clothes on the bench in front of my open locker and went stark naked into the shower. Everyone did that and it wasn’t unusual. But at some point, I felt like I was being watched. Eventually, I spotted a young man standing at the end of the row of lockers, always fully dressed, unabashedly eyeing me from top to bottom.

Since this happened several times, I suspected that the stranger might have homosexual intentions. Completely unexpectedly he addressed me. He asked me if I was interested in wrestling and invited me to train with him. The invitation surprised me so much that, without thinking about it, I immediately declined.

Disappointed by my refusal, he growled that he had not thought that even muscular men are cowards. That had hit hard. My male ego was shattered, so I went to train. Little did I know that this decision would turn my life upside down again.

The sports friends welcomed me as if I had belonged to them forever. Shaking hands, saying names, patting on the shoulder and onto the mat for the first workout. I’ll keep it short. If you don’t start training until you’re twenty, you’re not going to be a world champion. After all, the squadron was fighting in the upper league, and there were several GDR champions of various weight classes among the wrestlers.

Nevertheless, I stayed in the division because I felt safe and made friends. In hard competitions we won victories and had to accept defeats. I still have fond memories of this wonderful, eventful time, and the names of all my sports friends at that time are still familiar to me after six decades. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭

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