In the summer of 1959, Marga and I went on our usual camping vacation, this time to the Schwielowsee near Potsdam.
We had prepared a surprise for the vacation. On two Jawas my bride and I were coached to the registry office in Caputh. An hour later we returned to the campground as a legal married couple. Some friends were inaugurated, had prepared a huge festive table and all campers were invited.
The fete lasted until the morning hours. That night, even the wild boars did not dare to come between the tents in search of something edible. After the wedding vacation, events came thick and fast. The final cleaning was due, and the new apartment had to be furnished.
The shared large quarters were exchanged again, this time for two smaller apartments for my parents and my sister. No sooner had the confusion of the move subsided than a notification fluttered into the house: The Trabant can be picked up against payment of 7500 Marks, the purchase price is to be paid immediately in cash, payment in installments is excluded.
Of course, we didn’t have that much money after all the expenses. As predicted, I had to sell my beloved three-five with a heavy heart. Nevertheless, my parents still contributed heavily. But they were happy to do so. Father, after diligent practice, acquired his driver’s license and proudly drove mother and his grandson around.
I suspected my Father that he had already planned the pleasure trips when he had constantly coerced me into registering the car. The new apartment was a dream. The toilet beautifully tiled, hot water from the instant gas heater in the kitchen, which was perfectly equipped. The living room with balcony and real parquet flooring. Bedroom and children’s room big enough, with colored PVC flooring.
The corridor even had a wardrobe niche with closets above. Only a district or central heating was missing, but at that time no one perceived that as a shortage. Her first pregnancy was the most normal thing in the world for Marga. She took care of the household with her usual thoroughness and worked at the factory until the baby was born.
While I was still painting the large wall behind the crib with colorful animal figures in the nursery, the young mother had already given birth to a healthy boy, whom we named Andreas without baptism or divine blessing. Unquestioningly, the little earthling had to follow the godless camping marriage of his parents. It took me a while to settle into the unfamiliar role of father.
Grandpa Alfred was overjoyed. He had already had grandpa experience for a few years. My mother filled the birth of her second grandchild with restrained pride. Marga’s parents were neither surprised nor did they break into enthusiastic cheers. For them, it was the most normal thing in the world for young people to have children and with the horde of grandchildren they already had, one more did not play a special role.
Little Andreas was a healthy and well-behaved child. Except for a few minor aches and pains, he did not cause his parents sleepless nights. Marga was a good mother, but not a mother hen. She took care of the baby with her inherent thoroughness: draining, bathing, diapering, feeding, playing, and talking until burp time, then off to bed and out in the fresh air in all weathers.
So it was no surprise that Andi was clean by the time he was three quarters of a year old and was already tromping around the apartment in a squeaky happy manner by the time he was just under a year old. Time for kindergarten, said Marga. Soon I had to drive the boy to kindergarten every morning. But already on the way there Andreas started to cry. Each time it got worse.
The boy was crying his eyes out. The kindergarten teacher was unable to calm the child. On the way back, I had tears in my eyes. The request to Marga to take a break from work for half a year was ignored. Other children also go to kindergarten, the boy had to get used to that – basta! That was their opinion.
I complained to my parents. Immediately I had Grandpa Alfred on my side, and he found a way out, as always. Marga and the grandparents swapped shifts so that someone was always there for the little one. This meant that the young dad and his little son were spared the daily morning tears from now on. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭…
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