Tom and I belong to a book club here in town. We all meet once a month on the last Friday of the month. They had plans to eat lunch at a local cafe' at noon prior to the meeting which was scheduled to begin at 1:00 PM.
As usual, I was running a bit late and lunch was out of the question since we ate breakfast at noon. My usual web camming with Pat did not even start until just before 11:00 AM, which is about two hours later than our usual time. She said something about baking Christmas cookies or something. We all know that was an excuse because she doesn't even start on the Christmas baking until the 20th of December as a general rule. So, I just acted as if I believed her and carried on as usual. Whatever.....
We did get to the cafe' about ten to 1:00. There was already quite the gathering of book club members as some of them did have lunch there. We hadn't been there long before I noticed that two of the members just arriving were carrying in a large electric cooker into the building.
As it turns out, this particular member, who is German with a very heavy German accent, had promised the club she would bring some authentic Hungarian Goulash some time ago. Today, apparently, was everyone's lucky day.
She said she was planning on about 10 people to be present for the meeting and had allotted 1 pound of goulash and one pound of onions (cooked in the dish) for each member. So, she had cooked and allowed to simmer throughout the night and most of the morning, ten pounds of hand-trimmed beef and ten pounds of hand-picked and personally inspected onions.
She shared with us the process and explained that she used no flour or thickener of any kind, rather, the consistency of the goulash was obtained by the onions completely dissolving along with bits and pieces of the beef, rendering it fairly thick. One could readily see the joy she had in preparing the feast and how she revelled in feeding the crowd.
The meal was lovely, however, she asked the moderator, Joan, if she could be given a few minutes to speak to the group about something unrelated to the book and/or the club. Permission granted.
This lovely German woman held in her hand a small photo album and gingerly opened it up to a black and white photo of women and small children. The women were wearing white aprons with bibs and holding small metal cups. The children stood expressionless alongside these women all of whom were standing facing the photographer, a very large metal cooking pot in front of them.
She went on to explain that one of the 5 or 6 women in the photo was her mother. The woman she pointed out appeared to be about the age of 25 or 30, and a strikingly lovely woman, I might add.
When the photo was taken, Trauda stated she was about the age of 6, young, but already in school. Telling this story with moist eyes and a shaky voice, she told us the backdrop to the photo.
She said that that for three years after the end of WWII, the Americans fed the children of their one time enemy, the Germans. She spoke of how she and her siblings as well as the other school children were sent to school with one small piece of dry bread which she could remember holding beneath a faucet to moisten it and then sprinkle with sugar, if they had it.
One hot meal a day was served at the school. That meal was provided by the Americans. She said that at the time, she did not realize the magnitude of the act, but that years later, at about age 15, it dawned on her exactly how generous that act was.
She said that in Germany, the German graves are marked with crosses, and that the American soldier graves were marked with white headstones. It was then that she recognized just how many Americans had been killed in her homeland as compared to the German casualties.
There had been a close family member of this woman killed in WWII, not by Americans, but by Russians. She spoke from her heart when she told us that she did not believe she could bring herself to feed even the innocent children of those who had killed her family member. The love, concern, assistance, and generosity of the American people was then magnified in her realm of understanding.
By being able to cook for us, another generation of Americans, and to actually dip from this huge cooker a cup full into a small bowl as the women in the photograph did, was her small way of saying "Thank you" for the kindness shown to her and to her people those many years ago.
At the end of her short speech, there was not a dry eye in the room. As she spoke, her sincerity was obvious. We stood and gave her a standing ovation accepting her token of love with open arms.
It was quite moving, and made me so proud to know that my country took its focus off of itself and so selflessly helped another country who, too, had suffered so much loss and devastation.
I'm proud to be an American!
Just A Little Off.......
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