Single Moms

Every bad family story seems to start with a single mom

My mother in law passed away on Mother’s Day. I had seen people die before, but I had never seen a death so terrifyingly slow. Dementia is a cruel illness when it indeed plays out to the bitter end. At the end, there is nothing. A body unlearning to breathe in what looks painful. Everything else already gone. A face frozen into a grimace that can only be explained by looking at the dead people from the movie “The Ring” scared to death, frozen faces, open mouths.

It was not pretty.

With her death, since she was German, I received a lot of old notes and documents from my husband. Initially he was just asking me to help translate some of it. The notes were handwritten often in the old German style of the previous century using the old germanic alphabet and not the latin one we are accustomed to today. Often using language even I did not recognize. Who would have thought that the word Büfettier is the old German word for Bartender. I did not.

References to cities that used to be German in a time when Germany was not yet known for two world wars. These cities have all been renamed and most people no longer recognize the history of those.

It was fun to search through old documents. Like most Germans, my husband’s family did not talk about family and anything that happened pre-war. Most Germans do not know their own family history because of it. Nobody wanted to disclose a Nazi-history or uncover such. What I learned this week is that most people do not even know what Nazi, an abbreviation, stands for. It stands for Nationalsozialist. A Nationalsozialist was a member of the NSDAP, the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiter Partei. Translation: The national socialist German worker party.

Did you know this?

Yes, Nazis were socialists. Like most socialists they ran on a struggle that needed to be overcome. Their struggle centered around race, claiming the German race was superior and Jews were inferior. The way Stalin in comparison centered their socialist struggle was around class: rich people needed to be overthrown to help the poor. Yes, I am simplifying. However, it is good to understand that these two groups are inherently similar just like the horseshoe theory would indicate.

I essentially fed all these documents to Grok and build a family story. I focused primarily on my mother in law’s side. Because as most of you know, she was as close to an evil witch as you can get. Absolutely nightmarishly abusive. And rumor had it that her mom was cut from the same cloth. And I always wondered if the wars made these women so psychopathic. But… what I uncovered basically tells a different story.

Her mom Ruth was born in a military village in what is today Poland. Her father was born to a single mom. Just like my mom’s father. Being a bastard child was a problem and men growing up without a father did not grow up with stability and role models most other men have. My own grandfather was a sleezeball always switching jobs and engaging in shady business. My husband’s grandfather… more of the same.

Here is the story I uncovered:

A Family Story

Ruth was born on 1 September 1899 in the Moltke-Kaserne in Glatz, Silesia. The red-brick barracks of the Füsilier-Regiment “General-Feldmarschall Graf Moltke” No. 38 formed the walls around her first days. Bugle calls and the steady tramp of boots were the sounds that greeted her arrival into the world.

Her father Hermann served as a soldier in this Prussian regiment, and the family lived the ordered, mobile existence of garrison life under Kaiser Wilhelm II. The German Empire stood at the height of its power, confident in its military strength, and families like Ruth’s moved according to the needs of the army. Ruth’s birth was one small event in a world built on discipline and duty, yet it marked the beginning of a life that would cross continents and survive immense upheavals.

The family rarely remained in one place. When Ruth was one year old, they moved to Krumhübel in the Riesengebirge near the Czech border. The mountain air was crisp and filled with the scent of pine. Wooden houses clung to steep slopes, and the area served as a popular summer resort for those seeking clean air and scenery. For Ruth it was simply home, a place of trails and open sky during her toddler years.In 1907 the family crossed half of Germany to Ottersleben in Kreis Bitterfeld near Leuna. The flat, open fields of the Magdeburger Börde stretched out after the mountains, vast and empty. The region was becoming increasingly industrial, with chemical plants rising and agriculture supplying growing cities.

In 1908 they moved again to Landsberg, still within the same industrial area south of Magdeburg. By 1912 they had settled in Magdeburg itself. The city, with its wide Elbe River, busy factories, and active port, became Ruth’s home for many years. She attended school there as Europe moved closer to the First World War.

Nationalism and militarism were rising, and the family felt the growing tension in daily life.As a young woman in the 1920s, Ruth trained and worked as a Kaltmamsell. From 1921 to 1927 she took positions in hotels and restaurants in Magdeburg, Leipzig, Herringsdorf, Halle, and other places. She prepared cold buffets, elegant platters, aspics, and canapés for banquets. The work demanded precision and skill. I never learned anything about her dating life or if she ever planned on marrying. She was 28 when she left Germany for the first time. By the standards of these times already old.

In December 1927 Ruth decided to emigrate. She boarded the Neue Columbus and sailed for America, arriving in New York on 29 December 1927. She found work as a cook at Grosse Pointe Hospital near Detroit and later at Café Mozart and other establishments. While in the United States she met Friedrich “Fritz”. Fritz had been born to a single mother, Anna, who never married and never had another child. In the early 1900s, giving birth as an unmarried woman in Germany carried enormous social stigma, economic hardship, and legal difficulties. Unwed mothers often faced ostracism from family and community, limited job opportunities, and the constant struggle to provide for a child alone. Anna raised Fritz under these challenging circumstances, which likely shaped his restless approach to life and work.

Fritz himself never held a steady job, working variously as a bartender, machinist, Gastwirt, Sattler/Tapezier, and in his small Kaffee-Rösterei and moving business — switching occupations frequently as opportunities or necessities arose.

Ruth and Fritz married in the United States on 17 July 1929 in Wayne County, Michigan, as recorded in their official marriage license. The union represented a new beginning for both — Ruth, the soldier’s daughter who had crossed the ocean, and Fritz, the son of a single mother who had also sought a fresh start in America.

Eventually Ruth returned to Germany. I do not know the circumstances. On 19 April 1937 their daughter Irene was born in Magdeburg. A second daughter, Hanna, followed. Her father died in 1947 in a refugee camp in Denmark still a soldier in the German army.

The next few pages are from my mother in law’s notes. Very hard to read and decipher as she had written this down when already affected by dementia. It was the memories of a child.

In April 1945, when Irene was still small, a U.S. commander spoke to her parents and announced that the next day 5,000 soldiers of the 6th U.S. Army would arrive by train and take over the railroad station where they lived. “You will have to leave this evening!” It was the end of the Second World War.

The family, along with an aunt and cousin, moved into the repair sheds of the railroad station. Ruth’s father organized straw so they could sleep on the ground. The American soldiers were very nice. They gave the children chocolates, candy, and chewing gum. The family thanked them and waved. Within six weeks the Americans suddenly left and burned all their garbage.

The next day the Soviet soldiers arrived by train. The men had bald shaved heads and cold stares on their faces. The family moved back to their apartment at the railroad station and had almost no contact with the Soviet soldiers. The borders of the Soviet occupation zone were adjusted. Nobody knew how bad it would be or how long they would stay. It turned out to be 44 years.

From 1948 to 1953 the family lived in Magdeburg in the German Democratic Republic. Irene attended school six days a week from 1st to 8th grade. There were no school books of any kind and very little writing paper or pencils. Basic classes were Math, German, Reading, Grammar, Geometry, and Gym twice a week. They had to learn the Russian language and had daily homework. They did not have geography of their country or the world, no history of any kind, no art classes, and no music.

Electricity blackouts were common. The apartment had no heat, no glass in the windows (covered with plywood), no paint, no soap, and no washing machine. It was dismal. The children did not know any better. In 1948 the family moved back to a larger apartment in Magdeburg with two bedrooms, a big living room, toilet, and kitchen. They walked 30 minutes to school every day and met their friends. Church at the small chapel was only 15 minutes away. They had confirmation classes and sang in the choir with the harmonium.

Fritz had already left his family to live in West Germany. The why was not known. His family had no idea if they would ever see him again. In 1952 Irene attempted to escape to the West. On the train ride with her sister and mother, they all had to pretend not to know each other. A policeman suddenly appeared and made spot checks. She was asked to follow him. He took her personal ID and questioned her where she was going — to Berlin for a cousin’s wedding. The Vopo (Volkspolizei) tried to convince her to stay in the DDR and admire all the wonderful things built for the people. She did not argue with him. She accepted what he said. He did not ask if there were other family members on the train. The train finally stopped in East Berlin station. All passengers exited. The detainees were paraded in front of everyone to show off and scare the rest. Sibylle saw her mother and sister out of the corner of her eye but did not acknowledge them.

She was taken back to Magdeburg on the same train now separated from her family; not just the father. At night two Vopos (Volkspolizei = Folks police) drove her to the overcrowded youth home. She slept on the floor. She was back where she started.

While in the youth home the people in charge asked a group of children to go to a local bakery to get bread. Irene took that opportunity to get outside. In her mind she wanted to look for a post office. They passed one on the way to the bakery. On the way back she asked her friends to wait a few minutes. She went inside and sent a postcard to her aunt to be picked up.

The aunt picked her up and Irene lived with her. A little later that same year she learned that the pastor from the little chapel had moved to Berlitz. Irene took the train to visit the pastor in Berlitz, walking carefully to trick the Soviet guards at the border that she was there just for a short visit. She did not pack anything. Irene convinced the pastor to help her get back together with her sister and mother. The pastor arranged for Irene to be reunited with Hanna and Ruth in Bremen.

Later, the three women were reunited with their father who lived in a barrack in Düsseldorf. Fritz — a couple of months later — left the women again to move to the US. He bought himself a plane ticket via Air France and went back to the US hoping to restart life. Not sure if he ever intended to meet up with his family again.

Ruth and Hanna followed to the US two years later, while Irene finished here education. She finished her schooling and trained as a pharmaceutical assistant in Germany. She followed her family later in 1957. She attended Wayne State University in Detroit, graduating in 1961. After dating for a while, she married Walter. Together they adopted two children: one is now my husband.

My husband claims he never met his grandfather Fritz. Nobody talks about him. I could not find anything more about him. Even after spending $39 on ancestry. It is like he vanished. Maybe he changed his name. It would fit the story. He clearly — twice — tried to leave his family behind. Once moving from East Germany to the West. And then again moving to the US.

His daughters paid the price. Sadly, Irene became abusive herself causing immense harm to her own kids and thus continued the abusive cycle of neglect and pain.

Without a male role model. Families seem to be doomed. And it becomes the baggage that gets pushed from one generation to the next.

I applaud everyone who is able to break the cycle.

For good.