Re: on husbands or male partners

[Guest guest]

So, I married Hans Steinkellner, who was German.

We got settled in our first house in Central California.

He had met my parents, but I had not met his mother.

I did not know, for certain, whether she was still living.

I was 23 and he was 36 at the time.

So, after about five days of adjusting to newly-wed life,

the phone rings, and lo and behold: it is Hans' mother.

She has arrived at the local bus station--without notice,

as she is temporarily away from Oregon, staying with a

friend in another town, about 60 miles away. She was

telling Hans on the phone that she wanted to come to visit.

(fortunately we had a sofa-bed thing in the livingroom)

He put down the phone, conveyed all this to me, and I did

notice that his face was rather pale--not his usual robust,

olive-skinned color--he looked rather panicked. So, I said

that I would be willing to drive us to pick up his mother,

which is what we did. She emerged from the bus depot

with Hans, who was 6' 2" tall. She was well under 5' tall,

wearing what used to be called Ennajettics shoes--no link

available on the web--just "little old lady shoes," polka-dot

dress, felt hat with feather in hit, quite short graying black

hair, and her far-sighted (magnifying) glasses.

We got her into the car, and her German accent was im

mediately evident to me. I fell in love with her. She seemed

and in fact was, just such a good person. One could tell.

Took us all of seven minutes to get back home. We got

her, her "pocketbook," her suitcase, her coat, and her out,

and went into our living room and got her settled.

Hans was looking increasingly panicked, but I ignored

him, put on a pot of coffee, and got out some home-

made scones and sat down and began to chat with Ida,

my mother-in-law. Pretty soon Hans got up; had to go to

the bathroom--stayed in there a really long time. Ida

said to me, getting out a large photo album: "Dese

are my pawents; dey are yewish, too." (These are my

parents; they are jewish, too.) I nodded appreciatively.

Then she began to show me childhood photos of Hans

and his brother, Carl. So far so good. Eventually, Hans

comes back in as we are having coffee and scones in

the kitchen at the table.

Ida says to me: So, dit he tell you dat he can cook?

And dat he does carpentry? Dat he can build a whole

house, do da wiring, da gas lines, everyting?" Hans

appears about to faint. He had always given ME the

impression that all he could do was: think, talk and write,

and of course that other thing done privately, in bed.

I asked her, to Hans' perpetual consternation even

more about Hans, and she said, "Vell, you do not

vant to ask him to fix anyting in da kitchen. If you do,

he might move da valls, wemodel de entire ting, waise

da woof--you yust nefer know." She went on:

"And you know vhat? He makes pies, und cakes,

und cooks, und cleans--eweryting except da car.

He is afwaid of da car!"

By know Hans is clearly torn between the accent

her account and what she has revealed; he does

not know whether to laugh, scream or even cry.

So, I said, in a vain attempt to calm the poor man,

"Well, Ida, we divide things up according to who

likes to do the thing the least; so far this is working

very well.

Etc. I have no doubt that men are as panicked about

us women (especially if, as was the case with Hans,

they have had no sisters), as we can be about them.

However, men are the vast majority of people in my

whole clan. I understood men.

By dinnertime, when we had Ida's mouth stuffed

with food--cooked by both of us--things got better.

We actually made it through five days. We drove

her back to her friend's house, and drove back home.

Hans said, "Wow, n! You were terrific! You

knew just what to say to her. Thank you so much!"

(I had not told him that his own mother had confided

in me: "I am so glad dot he iss married now; he gots

somevun to take care of himselfs!")

I told him that line years later after one of our very

few arguments. The woman was a book in herself.

Later, on one of her visits she and I stayed up late

to watch television to see one of our NASA projects

launched. The host was saying something about the

"apogee and paragee of the flight," and Ida perked

up and said: "Hah! You hear dat? He vas tinking of

his mother; he iss talking about 'apples and pears.'"

Fortunately, Hans was asleep; it was 4:30 a.m.

So, after we had driven her home to her friend's house

again, I told him. He was driving. He began to laugh

so hard, that we had to put me behind the wheel. He

laughed until the tears came down. He said that in all

his life with his mother, he had never realized that she

even had an accent until he heard me impersonate her.

Somehow, we did get home safely, with me driving,

as usual.

Love to you all,

n

[Guest guest]

Smiling.

May their memories

be eternal!

T

in WY

" You get a wonderful view from the point of no return... "

http://practical-blackwork.blogspot.com

http://www.flickr.com/photos/liadains_fancies

Re: on husbands

or male partners

So, I married Hans Steinkellner, who

was German.

We got settled in our first house in

Central California.

He had met my parents, but I had not

met his mother.

I did not know, for certain, whether

she was still living.

I was 23 and he was 36 at the time.

So, after about five days of

adjusting to newly-wed life,

the phone rings, and lo and behold:

it is Hans' mother.

She has arrived at the local bus

station--without notice,

as she is temporarily away from Oregon, staying

with a

friend in another town, about 60

miles away. She was

telling Hans on the phone that she

wanted to come to visit.

(fortunately we had a sofa-bed thing

in the livingroom)

He put down the phone, conveyed all

this to me, and I did

notice that his face was rather

pale--not his usual robust,

olive-skinned color--he looked

rather panicked. So, I said

that I would be willing to drive us

to pick up his mother,

which is what we did. She

emerged from the bus depot

with Hans, who was 6' 2 "

tall. She was well under 5' tall,

wearing what used to be called

Ennajettics shoes--no link

available on the web--just

" little old lady shoes, " polka-dot

dress, felt hat with feather in hit,

quite short graying black

hair, and her far-sighted

(magnifying) glasses.

We got her into the car, and her

German accent was im

mediately evident to me. I

fell in love with her. She seemed

and in fact was, just such a good

person. One could tell.

Took us all of seven minutes to get

back home. We got

her, her " pocketbook, " her

suitcase, her coat, and her out,

and went into our living room and

got her settled.

Hans was looking increasingly

panicked, but I ignored

him, put on a pot of coffee, and got

out some home-

made scones and sat down and began

to chat with Ida,

my mother-in-law. Pretty soon

Hans got up; had to go to

the bathroom--stayed in there a

really long time. Ida

said to me, getting out a large

photo album: " Dese

are my pawents; dey are yewish,

too. " (These are my

parents; they are jewish,

too.) I nodded appreciatively.

Then she began to show me childhood

photos of Hans

and his brother, Carl. So far

so good. Eventually, Hans

comes back in as we are having

coffee and scones in

the kitchen at the table.

Ida says to me: So, dit he

tell you dat he can cook?

And dat he does carpentry? Dat

he can build a whole

house, do da wiring, da gas lines,

everyting? " Hans

appears about to faint. He had

always given ME the

impression that all he could do was:

think, talk and write,

and of course that other thing done

privately, in bed.

I asked her, to Hans' perpetual

consternation even

more about Hans, and she said,

" Vell, you do not

vant to ask him to fix anyting in da

kitchen. If you do,

he might move da valls, wemodel de

entire ting, waise

da woof--you yust nefer

know. " She went on:

" And you know vhat? He makes

pies, und cakes,

und cooks, und cleans--eweryting

except da car.

He is afwaid of da car! "

By know Hans is clearly torn between

the accent

her account and what she has

revealed; he does

not know whether to laugh, scream or

even cry.

So, I said, in a vain attempt to

calm the poor man,

" Well, Ida, we divide things up

according to who

likes to do the thing the least; so

far this is working

very well.

Etc. I have no doubt that men

are as panicked about

us women (especially if, as was the

case with Hans,

they have had no sisters), as we can

be about them.

However, men are the vast majority

of people in my

whole clan. I understood

men.

By dinnertime, when we had Ida's

mouth stuffed

with food--cooked by both of

us--things got better.

We actually made it through five

days. We drove

her back to her friend's house, and

drove back home.

Hans said, " Wow, n! You were

terrific! You

knew just what to say to her.

Thank you so much! "

(I had not told him that his own

mother had confided

in me: " I am so glad dot

he iss married now; he gots

somevun to take care of

himselfs! " )

I told him that line years later

after one of our very

few arguments. The woman was a

book in herself.

Later, on one of her visits she and

I stayed up late

to watch television to see one of

our NASA projects

launched. The host was saying

something about the

" apogee and paragee of the

flight, " and Ida perked

up and said: " Hah!

You hear dat? He vas tinking of

his mother; he iss talking about

'apples and pears.' "

Fortunately, Hans was asleep; it was

4:30 a.m.

So, after we had driven her home to

her friend's house

again, I told him. He was

driving. He began to laugh

so hard, that we had to put me

behind the wheel. He

laughed until the tears came

down. He said that in all

his life with his mother, he had

never realized that she

even had an accent until he heard me

impersonate her.

Somehow, we did get home safely,

with me driving,

as usual.

Love to you all,

n