Thursday, September 29, 2011

Germany: Wiesbaden, return to Lynne's childhood

We lived in Wiesbaden, about 45 minutes west of Frankfurt, when I was three and four and then again when I was nine, ten and eleven. The American military housing in Wiesbaden isn't on a base. There are simply American military neighborhoods, accessible to anyone. I have lots of memories of the neighborhood from our second time there, but only two memories of the town of Wiesbaden. One of those memories is the cool fountains in front of the Kurhaus, a beautiful building built in 1907 with a casino and space for meetings and conferences. There are several photos in my photo album (in a storage locker in Seattle) of me standing in front of those fountains at age four. When I was looking for a hotel, I chose one located not too far from the Kurhaus just because I wanted to see those fountains again. When we checked into the hotel, they told us to park in the underground parking lot at the Kurhaus, which is linked to the surface with cool glass elevator kiosks.





After we got settled in our hotel, we set out to stroll the center of town, which is almost entirely pedestrain streets. Wiesbaden has the flavor of being a wealthy town. Lots of pricey shops and lots of well dressed people shopping. There's a big opera house and an amazing cathedral, neither of which I remembered from childhood at all, and I was particularly impressed with all the flowers.











On the edge of downtown is the Anglican Church, St. Augustine's of Canterbury, where I was confirmed when I was 11 and where we attended every Sunday. My Mom was confirmed at the same time as I was, which I thought was really cool. The bishop who confirmed us, the Bishop of Fulham, came from England to do the confirmations, and he wore the most amazing costume for the confirmations involving gaiters and a mitre. Oddly, St. Augustine's has two front doors, and a cute back door painted blue. The church was locked, and we were there on a weekday, so sadly, we couldn't get inside.







On the second day, we made the tour of the three places we lived in Wiesbaden. The first place was our home when my brother was born. Take a look at the apartment building behind my mom and my brother in the next photo.


In those days, the apartments were relatively new and there was a lot of grass and no trees. Now there are lots of trees and bigger parking lots, but the buildings are still very similar.



When we came back to Wiesbaden when I was nine, we lived a couple of miles up the road in another American housing area. For the first year, we lived in an apartment. Ours was the middle apartment on the right, and my friend Becky lived in the lower apartment on the left. I remember running up and down the stairs to Becky's apartment many, many times.




One of my vivid memories of living in that apartment is rollerskating with Becky. Just a little ways up the road was a dead-end spur that went up a hill. We would set up a slalom course on the hill and I remember skating SO FAST down that steep hill. I had checked on google maps before we came, and discovered that the little spur is now no longer a dead-end road. It now leads to a neighborhood of houses that look like they were built in the 70s. When I looked at google maps, I pictured those new houses up a steep hill from my old apartment. Imagine my amazement when that steep road turned out to be barely a hill at all. I guess I must have been a novice rollerskater who was scared of even the slightest hill. And, to be fair, in those days roller skates didn't have stops in front. You had to stop by turning. Here's my scary skating street.


Right around my 10th birthday, my father was promoted to Colonel, so we got to move to a house a few blocks away. We lived for two years in the right hand side of a duplex.




Take note of that cool glass awning above the door. It was part of a big remodel that had been completed only a few months earlier. Dave made me ring the doorbell. He said, "You've come this far, you've got to see if anyone is home." The woman who answered the door very kindly let us come inside. We got to see the kitchen, newly remodeled and quite a different configuration from when we lived there, and the dining and living room and even the basement. I stood for a few moments at the base of the curved stairs that go upstairs. That's where I was standing when I learned that JFK had died. My mom had been upstairs and had gotten a call from my dad with the news, and she stood at the top of the stairs and told me down below. We had seen President Kennedy only a few months earlier when he visited Germany and gave his famous "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech.

The school I attended for fourth through sixth grade is right around the corner from the duplex. Note the chain link fence in the second photo. While we were taking photos, a guard came from the guard box near the entrance to the school and said that we couldn't take any photos of the entrance. He was quite nervous about the photos I had already taken, and I assured him there were no photos of the entrance. Back when I was a child, there were certainly no chain link fences around the school and no guard letting people in and out. (The first photo is taken through a hole in the fence.) 



Our last stop on our way out of town was the hotel where we saw President Kennedy. My dad rented a room on the second floor. In those days the hotel had balconies, and we had a great view of the motorcade and the president. It was called the General Von Stueben Hotel in those days and now it's part of the Dorint chain, which has hotels in six countries in Europe.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Germany: Dannenfels, a town with Baabs

Dave's father was born in 1913 in Ohio and his family spoke German in the home. He didn't learn English until he went to school. We don't know when Dave's grandfather and great-grandfather came over from Germany, but we know their last village in Germany was Dannenfels, about an hour southwest of Frankfurt. Dave's cousin visited Dannenfels last year and told us how to find the Baab graves in the cemetery of the Protestant church there.

The Baabs originally came from France, where they were Hugenots (French Protestants). The name is very uncommon in Germany, so it was exciting to find a town with dead and living Baabs.

Dannenfels is nestled on the side of Donnersberg (687 meters, 2253 feet), the tallest hill in that part of Germany. One of the Baab men we met told us he remembers American soldiers coming around the side of Donnersberg at the end of WWII. Here's Dannenfels.


Dave's cousin Jerry told us to find the Protestant Church, and the graveyard, he said, is right beside it.



At the entrance to the graveyard, we got the idea that this was going to be fun. One of the first things we saw was a monument to the soldiers from Dannenfels who had fought in wars in the 1860s, 70s and 80s.



Dave's cousin thinks "Chev" means calvary, and "Inf" means infantry. There was monument to people who died in WWI (no Baabs there) and WWII (one Baab, see below).

  

In the cemetery, there was a grave of the family of Christian Baab.



The names listed on the top portion of this gravestone were:
     Christian Baab, 21 October 1837 to 4 December 1910
     Philippine Zepp (geb. Baab), 22 August 1866 to 26 September 1911
     Maria Baab (geb Zepp), 18 December 1866 to 19 January 1941
     Christian Baab, 8 May 1864 to 31 December 1945
"Geb" means "born." So it looks like the first Christian's wife is buried elsewhere, and his daughter, Philippina, married a man with the last name Zepp. Christian's son, also Christian, married Maria Zepp. So perhaps a brother and a sister married a brother and a sister.

Here are the other Baab gravestones we found.





The cemetery had a nice view across the plains to the north, where you can just see a wind farm in the distance. You can also see the challenge of being sure we had looked at every single grave stone.


After we had checked out all the graves (and had a nice picnic lunch on the bench in the cemetery), we discovered that the church building was open. Inside it was a banner celebrating 100 years of something, and on the banner many people's names were listed alphabetically, including quite a few Baabs.





The gravestones and names on the banner would have been enough, but there were more delights to come. We found the tourist information office, and told the man there Dave's name, and he said we should walk a little ways down the street, and Karl Baab might be home. And he was. Karl was born in 1935, and he showed us the papers his father had to have in the 1930s to prove he was Aryan. The papers list his father's parents' and grandparents' names.



Karl also showed Dave some papers related to his leadership role at the church, which Dave really enjoyed seeing.



Karl encouraged us to go down to the Obsthof Baab, a sort of fruit store connected to an orchard. There we met Gunter Baab, who is descended from Christian Baab who we "met" in the cemetery. Christian Baab (1864 to 1945) was the father of Friedrich, who was the father of Erwin, who was Gunter's father. Gunter told us that in two neighboring villages, Steinbach and Kirchheimbolanden, there are additional people named Baab. He said the name is so rare, you can go to just about any city in Germany and you won't find anyone with the name.





Gunter and Karl said they are not related to each other, at least not in the last three generations. Since Baab is such an uncommon name, it seems likely to us that Gunter and Karl and Dave are all related to each other if we could go back far enough.

Dave LOVED finding the graves and meeting Karl and Gunter. His only sadness was that his father couldn't be there with him. His father would have been so happy to see his German heritage and meet people who are probably distant relatives.