When did I become a Deutschfreundlichen: Chapter One

Chapter One: how to blow your nose

For my facebook friends you may have remembered my making note of this line of though a few weeks back. resulting from the dialog a wonderful word:  deutschfreundlichen came into the conversation by my dear and brilliant friend Leo Tolkin who is a master cellist and viola degamba player(I think he prefers the later) and has a remarkable appreciation for the feuges of Bach and an equally remarkable abillity to communicate their exquisitet composition with words and robust hand movements.


The subject came a gain to a head, my head, as a result of a new hair cut and a head cold that I am presently suffering with, (the cold, that is , not the hair cut).


while looking in the mirror(which I will neither confirm nor deny that I do often) and blowing my nose, my father, who tends to walk in on me in the bathroom often to have conversation, cautioned that I blow my nose properly.


My thought immediately rushed back some 20 something years to when i first was taught how to blow my nose Properly and why...plugging one nostril at a time pressing with the thumb and index finger, for left and right respectively all while holding a tissue or hanky  in  place. the alternating action exercised so as to not cause damage to the ears. the man who originally taught me this was not my father but rather one of his adversaries a man who had wished to have married my mother, my German neighbor.


As I traced my steps through the 70's decor of his apartment and down the hall to where I stood looking at the top of my head in the mirror standing on my tippy toes to see myself blowing into the tissue...I remembered the next lesson in personal hygiene...how to comb the hair..WHAM!.. 

 At this point I realised that when I have hair and cut it my self I often fashion it it very similar to how he showed me at 6 of 7 years of age, 

( I have evolved to exhibit a little more flair than his basic doo...but the foundational influence is undeniable, especially the too the side and back combing motion with his military issued aluminum comb)



He had wished to be my dad and I was happy to oblige him. He let me run around his apartment with his unloaded pugnosed revolver as well as a 9mm clicking away at imaginary evil doers.

Once having gotten a good deal on lots of deliciously ripe mangoes, bought a deep freeze so that he could cut them up and freeze them they supplied a years worth of daily mango milkshakes I would get after school, he taught me how to savor german potato pancakes with a dash of powdered sugar and a side of apple sauce, and I could always count on a bug bowl of marble fudge ice cream and a tour of his Mercedes bus camper conversion and where he had a safe with guns under the mattress this was the very same bus that Sulochan an early ex-poser of bogus guru antics was shot in the head in (for reference read monkey on a stick...on second though probably better not too) I non the less thought it was cool to be in a vehical that was once a murder scene.... its like being in a movie!


Everything went south with him when one day I was practicing too  be an ungrateful teenager, shared with my friend ,while enjoying a big bowl of his endless supply of Marble fudge ice cream (the new steady resident of the deep freeze), that I don't real like him and that I am actually just using him because he gives me stuff and takes me places, this statement , a direct quote from my older sister, I actually didn't  really feel. He over heard my "trying it out statement" and taking it seriously red faced with anger and undoubted heartache of betrayal banished me from ever coming again to his home. 


I was fearful and devastated at the outcome of my false words, He held grudges like no man I have ever met and it took a decade or more until he was willing to speak to me. not having his "boy scout leader" oversight and adventures I joined the ranks of my friends and we banded together as the local gang of trouble makes. No more camping trips or barge rides in the canals or bike rides to the beach, when we got ourselves in a pickle he was no longer there to save the day.


2)      Jumping a head a proportionate lifetime 


NOTE: My computer was having problems while I was writing this post and while I had thought it saved the rest of the text the fact is that it had not. There was a theme that I was developing all based around German influences in my life. In my own opinion as the author the other 3 chapters that were lost, were much more interesting than the one that remained, in fact this story wasn't even finished. I will never get back the hours of thought and two finger typing that it took to compose and frankly I don't feel like investing the time again right now, I will take it some how as an act of God and I will spend some time pondering what was missing...to have it go missing. perhaps I will revisit the theme later but for now I am moving on. I am sorry to present you with something incomplete but I liked the images that I found on the internet to illustrate this portion and was attached to sharing them with you. 

As a public service announcement I would strongly advise, from personal experience now on the matter, to make sure that the computer you are using is set to"safe search" before searching for images that may contain the word"blowing" in the search phrase. You may find it difficult to find what you are looking for.....unless that is what you are look for.

thanks for reading God Bless, Hare Krishna, and safe searching