May 28, 2005
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5/29/2005
I believe that it is Memorial Day weekend stateside, and there is someone that I want to remember. My favorite teacher of all time, Mr. Jerome Frank Hoffmann passed away two years ago this month. He taught German at Niskayuna High School, and I had the privilege of being in his class for two years. He was the best of the best in mein Buch, great at what he did and charismatic in the way he did it. I am very glad that I had a chance to find him on the Internet and tell him how much I appreciated him. His nephew sent me a few pictures of him for which I am extremely thankful. I have never forgotten Herr Hoffman and will never forget. Love is forever.
Onkel Jerry, I will continue to wear the baseball cap that you sent and to root for the Boston Red Sox again this year. I don't really care much for baseball, but I will do it just for you. Wir sehen uns wieder!!
The original message was received at Mon, 26 May 2003 10:11:51 -0400
from r02-a02-b2.data-hotel.net [203.174.77.73]
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<<< 503 5.0.0 Need RCPT (recipient)11. Just on a personal note, this weekend I lost my uncle Jerome Hoffmann to cancer. A retired German teacher, who worked for many years at Niskayuna High School in Schenectady, N.Y., I credit my Uncle Jerry for re-introducing me to the game of soccer in 1985. I'd gone off to college in 1982 and started focusing on baseball and when the NASL died, for all intents and purposes, in 1984, I really turned the game off for a while. Then my uncle brought me to Germany with a group of his students. One of the first things we did as a group was go to see our "hometown team" VfL Bochum play a Bundesliga match. From then on, I never lost touch with the game. To this day, I keep up with Bochum (as you know one of "our" big signings way back was a striker named Eric Wynalda) and the club's never-ending yo-yo between Bundesliga and B2. I know my Uncle Jerry rests in peace with his beloved Red Sox sitting in first place. One of the final things he was able to say was to my brother Rob (aka Bob). He said, "Your team is fun to watch."
Dear Mr. Bradley,
I was checking the Internet for a beloved teacher with whom I had suddenly lost contact, and was extremely saddened to read of the passing of your uncle, Jerome Hoffmann. I had been sending him alot of cyberjunk in the forms of pictures and jokes, and although he did not answer me much, I thoroughly enjoyed being able to send him stuff. I hope that it was not much of a bother for him. I don't know if it will offer any comfort, but it comforts me to write it; I loved him as a teacher from the minute that I walked into his classroom for the first time in September 1973. He was a marvelous teacher with a passion for his subject, and I never forgot him and all that he taught me, which is more than he knew. No one ever had a bad word to say about him, and I am sure that none of all of the students that he had ever forgot him. Although when I stumbled across his email address on the Internet (His dog had died and he was looking for another) I had been hoping to start up a bit of a correspondence, it did not happen, which is fine, as it is necessary and important to respect the privacy of others. I wish now that I had let him know more clearly how much he was appreciated, but maybe it just would have embarrassed him, as he seemed to be a rather private person. I hope that he knew, and I will very much miss being able to share life in Tokyo with him.
I have a few emails from him that I would be glad to forward to you if you want them.
I also wanted to mention that last year Herr Hoffmann and I traded a German World Cup soccer shirt for some baseball caps, two of the Boston Red Sox and one from the Seattle Mariners, in honor of Ichiro. I have been wearing mine ever since I got it a year ago, and had sent HH a few pictures of this. Again, I really hope that he did not think that I was being silly, but I appreciated him doing that more than he could have ever imagined, and I will continue to decorate the streets of Tokyo with that big red "B" in his honor! I teach English in a girls' school here in Tokyo, and a copy of his 1975 yearbook picture is on my desk as an inspiration, but I was too embarrassed to tell him that.
He had promised to send us some recent pictures of himself and Karl-August, but never did. Do you have any jpgs of him lying around in your computer? Just ignore this request if it is a bother.
With sincere prayers for Herr Hoffmann and for the comfort of his family,
Connie
Thank you for the letter Connie. I do not have any pictures (of the computer variety, of Jerry), but I do have a copy of my eulogy to him.
Here it is.
Uncle Jerry
In the book “Tuesdays with Morrie,” Mitch Albom wrote about his favorite college professor, Morrie Schwartz, who was dying with Lou Gehrig’s Disease.
Morrie, who knew his time was coming, often talked about how, in the end, in our final days, it’s like we become children again, needing someone to take care of us…to feed us and clothe us and clean us up. And how this is not something we should fear or dread, but something we should cherish and enjoy. To put yourself in the hands of a loved one, as a child would. What could be better, more peaceful…more safe than that?
Watching my Uncle Jerry these past few months…these past few weeks…I was, of course, sad to realize that very soon we’d be saying goodbye. But I was also lifted by his spirit, especially the way he welcomed and treasured my mother’s love and attention. You could tell he just loved to let his sister, Mary, feed him his pasta, and to hold a straw to his mouth so he could take a sip of water. He especially liked when my mom brought him some pumpkin pie. Honestly, you could see in his crystal clear blue eyes how much this meant to him. He knew, even though he’d spent many years living in a place too faraway to see us regularly, that he’d come home. That he was, in many ways, a kid again.
And my mom did tell me that this was, indeed, the way it was for her and Jerry back in the day, when the only negative comment on her first grade report card was that she needed to leave Jerry alone, that she really needed to let him put on his own galoshes.
As I’m sure you all know, when my mom was 12 years old and her own father had passed away, she road her bike out to a secret meeting place, where she asked her cousin Jerry if she could come home and live with him and his mother and father, Roberta and Frank Hoffmann. That’s when Mary and Jerry stopped being cousins, and became brother and sister. And, oh, about a dozen years later, Roberta and Frank became Nana and Gramp, and Jerry became Uncle Jerry, to Rob, Scott…and to me.
I’m sure everyone here has a crazy uncle. Well, Uncle Jerry was mine.
Everyone has their own memories of Jerry. Maybe you remember him as a scholar, a man who loved his literature and delighted in a feisty political debate? Maybe you remember him as a baseball fan who idolized Jackie Robinson and, in his retirement years on Cape Cod, followed the Boston Red Sox with the passion of a lifelong New Englander. I know a million or so Sox fans who would envy my Uncle Jerry, for when he closed his eyes and went to sleep on the eve of Memorial Day, those pesky Red Sox were in first place.
But for me, he will always be my crazy uncle. The guy who loved to ham it up for the home movies, not afraid to make a fool of himself if it would make others laugh. He will always be the guy who’d drive up in a flashy new convertible, or a BMW shipped in from Germany, to my grandparents’ house in Normandy Beach and delight in playing ball with his nephews, or for taking us on scavenger hunts for towels and sweatshirts left behind on the beach. His rule was simply, if it’s there after dark, it’s ours.
And, anyone who knew my Uncle Jerry knows he was a magician with dogs. My family had a headstrong black poodle named Ollie who did not obey any of us. Ollie was fast as lightning and loved to show us just how fast he really was by running away whenever he got the chance. But when Jerry showed up, Ollie looked like a dog who could’ve won a blue ribbon at Westminster, he was so well behaved. When Jerry left, Ollie would return to the dark side, running right past us, and listening to no one.
As we all know, Jerry had his own succession of dogs…miniature schnauzers…each one a better dog than the last. He gave all three boys German names. Maximillion, Franz Ludwig and Karl August. He spoke to them all in German, of course. Not only that, he read to them, sang to them, danced for them. In all my life, I’ve never seen dogs so captivated by their master. And, really, who could blame them? The guy was good.
I realized when I was 21, when Uncle Jerry took me to Germany with his high school students from Schenectady that the performances Jerry put on for his schnauzers were just little rehearsals for his class room. The animation in his voice. The singing. The dancing. The students told me. This was all a part of Uncle Jerry’s German class.
My brothers and I and our wives got to see this a few years ago, on Christmas eve at my parents house, when Uncle Jerry did a stirring reading of the Nutcracker, in German, for all the children, who sat all over him as he read. All smiling from ear to ear.
Just a few weeks ago, when he barely had the strength to speak, Uncle Jerry sat with my sons Tyler and Beau on his lap, teaching them a few German words and expressions. A day later, Tyler said, “Mom, can we go to Grandma’s house?” My wife said, “Oh, you want to see Grandma?” Tyler said, “No, I want to do the German book with Uncle Jerry.”
So he was teaching kids, making them smile, doing something he loved, until the end.
And, I know I speak for my entire family when I say, we loved bringing Uncle Jerry back into our lives these past few weeks. Of course, it was too short a time, but I think all of us got to tell him something we wanted him to hear before he left us. And vice versa.
Scott was able to laugh about how Uncle Jerry brought his baseball team from Niskayuna High School down to play West Essex before Scott’s senior season, and how Uncle Jerry offered a steak dinner to any of his pitchers who could strike Scott out. Of course, this was just Uncle Jerry’s way of bragging. He knew none of them would strike out his nephew. When Scott made it to the major leagues, he had no bigger fan than Jerry.
Rob told Uncle Jerry a story about how, when we were kids, we went to a baseball practice up in Schenectady, and Uncle Jerry got hit with a linedrive and was obviously in pain. But that Jerry wouldn’t let on that he was hurt because he knew the practice would be interrupted. And now Rob says, when he gets on the field with his soccer players, and gets kicked, he knows never to show anyone that he’s hurt.
My mom had a chance to tell Uncle Jerry that she’d have had nothing were it not for him and my Nana and Gramp. And Uncle Jerry told my mom, that they would have had nothing were it not for her. He told my mom that he loved her with all his heart and soul.
As for me, I think I was the luckiest of all. As much as everyone in my family talked about going to Germany with Jerry, to take advantage of all of his knowledge and passion for that country, I’m the only one who got to do it. It was better than you could imagine. He knew the country, both the obvious and the off-the-beaten path…the book stores and beer halls…better than a tour guide. When I went to see Uncle Jerry last week, I told him how special that trip was for me. And I tried out some very rusty German for him. And he seemed to like it.
I said, Auf Wiedersehen Onkel Jerry, Ich liebe dich.
Goodbye Uncle Jerry, I love you.
And he whispered, Ich liebe dich auch.
I love you also.
Dear Jeff,
I hope it is alright to address you by your first name. Thank you so very much for sending the copy of the eulogy that you wrote about your uncle. I appreciate it more than you know. I do not have time now, but if you do not mind, I would like to share with you later about what it was like to be a student of his, and how one of his lessons changed my life, to some degree.
All of his students loved him, and I hope that he knew how much this one did.
Connie
Connie,
I look forward to your story. I have been forwarding all of your kind words to my Mom, Jerry's sister, Mary. She has taken this extremely hard and it's good to hear people like yourself talk about Jerry's legacy.
Thanks again, Jeff
Dear Jeff,
Gee, I hope that you do not think I am a pain in the neck, just like I hope that your Uncle did not think that I was a pain in the neck. I have been thinking about Herr Hoffmann much in the past few days as you can imagine. There is so much that one could write about him!
I don't know which is better, to write all at once, or little by little, as I said, I do not want to be a pain. I have been praying especially for your mother much in the past few days, as I can imagine that she must be both exhausted and in very deep sorrow. I cannot even begin to imagine what she must have gone through and what she must be going through now. There is nothing that I can do for your Uncle now, but as a service to him, if no one minds, I would like to talk about him and have fun (isn't that what he would have wanted?) remembering him. More important still, I am praying that God will comfort and to uphold you all, and especially your mother, and to help her walk through this difficult time. I pray that Jesus himself would hold her hand and let her know that everything is all right.
I will continue to be in touch, if that is all right, but I also realize that your family may want to be left alone for a bit, as you have all been through quite an ordeal. As I told your Unkle, or Onkel Jerry (That's what we all called him behind his back, but to his face he was always Herr Hoffmann. I don't suppose that we meant any disrespect, but there are borders of propriety that must be maintained. Haha! We also called him Herr Hoffnungslos (Hopeless) because he was so very hopelessly funny. I am delighted just to be able to send things, and expect no answer, although I would be very happy to get one. I will just write when I have something to say, and anyone who wants to can just read and delete it.
I have some pictures of Herr Hoffmann (I had better be respectful around his family, right?) from the Niskayuna High School yearbooks that I have been thinking of scanning, and can send them if you want. They are not spectacular of course, but they are him. Hmm, I may have one in my computer already, of German Club. This was a version from a 1975 Niskayuna High School yearbook that I edited with Photoshop, so there were really more members. I did not have a scanner at the time and copied the photo with my camera, so the quality is not the best. I may try a better version later. I was the President in name that year, but I think that the only reason that we existed was to provide dessert for the annual language club dinner "International Night." I was not a born leader, so Herr Hoffmann suggested bake sales and selling chocolate and left us to do our thing.
In the German Club picture, I am the one holding Max, who I don't think was really happy about the situation. The guy in the front row with the dark hair, big smile and glasses is John Wozney, who is not a Herr Doktor of Genetics in Cambridge, Mass. I recently found him on the Internet and he says that he wishes he had all that hair again, but failed to elaborate.... Anyway, John also enjoyed all of Herr Hoffmann's classes very much, and as a fellow fans of HH, we spoke practically nothing but German to each other even outside of class, simply because it was so much fun. I am sure that you recognize the guy at the far left.
With love and prayers to each one in your family,
Connie
And please tell Tyler that his Uncle Jerry made us all want to do the German book, and once you had done a German book with Uncle Jerry, you never wanted to do it with anybody else again, ever, because he was the BEST of the BEST, and that is why I could never and will never forget him. Sniff.
Dear Jeff,
Here is the rest of the email that I tried to send with the picture yesterday. Thank you for the alternate address. If you want I can send a carbon copy of whatever I write to your mother, but only if you think that she would be interested. I will leave that entirely to your judgment. I don't even know how much of this is of interest. I don't even know if your Uncle remembered me or not. I was afraid to ask him, because I did not want to hear him say no! It might have bwoken my widdle heart! Haha! I mean, thousands of kids must have walked in and out of his classroom throughout the years, so it would not be surprising if I had been forgotten. A person can only remember so much!
Anyway, here is what I tried to send yesterday, and thank you again for the new email address. I looked through all my yearbooks yesterday (1968-1971) and scanned all the pictures of Herr Hoffmann that I could find from portraits to German Club to Baseball. They are old pictures, but some that your family might not have. If you want, I can print them out in any size and send hard copies anywhere you want.
I would RREEAALLLLYY appreciate having a picture of Herr Hoffmann if possible, but only at your convenience.
I have been checking around on the Internet (I think my parents created a monster when they named me Constan(t)ce.) and your article is the only place where I could find anything about your Uncle. It was at the top of the list on Google, so if one is looking it is not hard to find. Maybe if you mention him a couple more times you might hear from more people. I sent your column to a few other people that I know would have been interested, but have not heard too much.
My mother was his student for a short time, as she took an evening course that he taught for adults at Niskayuna, and was also saddened by Herr Hoffmann's passing.
Here is what I tried sending yesterday:
I have some pictures of Herr Hoffmann (I had better be respectful and not call him Onkel Jerry around his family, right?) from the Niskayuna High School yearbooks that I have been thinking of scanning, and can send them if you want. They are not spectacular of course, but they are him. Hmm, I may have one in my computer already, of German Club. This was a version from a 1975 Niskayuna High School yearbook that I edited with Photoshop, so there were really more members. I did not have a scanner at the time and copied the photo with my camera, so the quality is not the best. I may try a better version later. I was the President in name that year, but I think that the only reason that we existed was to provide dessert for the annual language club dinner "International Night." I was not a born leader, so Herr Hoffmann suggested bake sales and selling chocolate and left us to do our thing.
In the German Club picture, I am the one holding Max, who I don't think was really happy about the situation. He seems to be looking in desperation for the down elevator. The guy in the front row with the dark hair, big smile and glasses is John Wozney, who is now a Herr Doktor of Genetics in Cambridge, Mass. We did a flute - piano duet by that great German Mozart (Hey, I wonder if Herr Hoffmann has caught up with Amadeus in the afterworld? Now THAT is something that I would love to see - what a combination!) for International Night - Adagio Religioso with a high Kechel # of 600 something. I recently found John on the Internet and he says that he wishes he had all that hair again, but failed to elaborate.... Anyway, John also enjoyed all of Herr Hoffmann's classes very much, and as a fellow fans of HH, we spoke practically nothing but German to each other even outside of class, simply because it was so much fun. I am sure that you recognize the guy at the far left.
I am also attaching a recent picture of me in a hat that Herr Hoffman sent to me last year. As you must know, the soccer World Cup was played in Japan and Korea last year, and I asked Herr Hoffmann if he wanted a German team shirt. He said he did, and we found him a nice one, for which he sent us some baseball hats in return. It was great fun just knowing that we were watching the same teams play on TV. Wasn't Oliver Kahn something?! We wear the hats all the time, and will continue to do so in his honor.
bis bald,
will write again soon, Connie
Hi Jeff,
Here are a few of the pictures that I scanned out of my yearbooks that your family may not have. These are from 1968-9, I think. The last picture looks a bit younger, so maybe an older picture was used for that particular yearbook. The quality also may leave a bit to be desired as I am a scanning novice. I can try for better quality.
I mentioned that Herr Hoffmann did something that kind of changed my approach to life. You are acquainted well with his totally entertaining personality. I did not know that he tried all his material out on his dogs first. Perhaps they were a more courteous audience. I don't remember that he actually did much disciplining in class. He didn't have to, because us kids were always kept on out toes by his constant challenges to out little grey cells, and by his way of never letting us even think about being bored enough to act up. Kind of the same way that he was good with dogs, I suppose. He had us all in the palm of his hand without making a fist. As you said, he was good!! But there were two times that he did get after us with silent thunder.
The first time was when he was telling us about what young German folks did to entertain themselves, something about taking a victrola portable record player outside and dancing to 45's. Well, some of the boys on the other side of the room (I always sat in the front on the right - I loved my ringside seat!) thought that the pastime sounded definitely somewhat less than cool, and began to say as much. I felt that they were being impolite at best, and at worst, showing that they were a snotty bunch of rich brats who were unskilled at putting themselves into the shoes of another. I do not remember your Uncle saying as much in words, but he did by his actions, because he just walked out in the middle of class and did not return for the remainder of the hour. He made no comment about this the next day, and did not need to, as his action spoke for itself.
The next time he walked out I was not so innocent. We had been given a homework assignment to read a couple of pages in our textbook, but there were all those words that I didn't know, and it was such a pain to look them all up! I kind of had a rather fuzzy general hazy idea of what the page might have been saying, maybe, so I was satisfied with that, shut the book and showed up for class the next day. Apparently everybody in the class had done the homework (more accurately said not done the homework) in a similar slipshod manner and Herr Hoffmann was not getting any answers to his questions out of us. He told us that if we did not want to put any effort into learning that he did not want to waste his time teaching us, and out he went again. Hey!!! Onkel Jerry was NOT going to do the German book with us!! Doom and Disaster!!! Again, next class went on as before, as if nothing had happened on his side, but there was certainly a change in all of us.
I knew that I was among the guilty, and was determined never to let that happen again. We all liked Herr Hoffmann so very much that we did not want him angry with us. From that time I looked up EVERYTHING, to the extent that every time I open a dictionary in any language, I remember Herr Hoffmann, I really do! And learning not to be lazy in this area was supremely important for me, as it seems that I am doomed to be a lifetime language learner, living in Japan. I loved studying German so much (even before Herr Hoffmann) that I had plans to go work in Germany, who knows doing what. But, in my senior year I became interested in the Japanese language thanks to a Japanese exchange student that came to Niskayuna in my senior year. Herr Hoffmann once commented that I was becoming friendly with a "Schlitzenaugen" slant eyed fellow. I came to Japan in 1975, and have been here most of the time ever since.
I needed to study Japanese to survive, of course, and know now that Herr Hoffmann not only taught us German, but he taught us, by walking out that day, that we could not expect anyone to spoon feed us. He taught us that we has to eat our dictionaries for ourselves, page by page and wort by wort. He taught us how to study as well as what to study. This was an extremely important life skill for me, and I still thank him for his demonstration of how important it is. I tried to tell him that when I started emailing him last year. He often said that he would write an answer later, but he never really did, and I don't mind at all. It was more important to me that he knew that I loved him as a teacher, although I could not say this directly, you know, propriety and all. I also realize that just because I felt that way did not mean that he did, and that I had no right to arbitrarily expect any response in kind.
Another thing that he taught me without knowing it is how to teach others. I have a part time teaching job at a Japanese girl's high school (He would have kicked all their lazy butts good, I tell you!) and I try to be as interesting as he was, and try to remember his methods. The best vocabulary building trick that he had was to make us say the same thing several different ways, "Wie sagt mann das anders?" "How else can you say that?" The best trick for keeping attention is being a confident leader, and not to fear looking foolish. But Herr Hoffmann never did look foolish, because his delivery was always confident and flawless. He had the perfect mix of comedy and seriousness, kind of like Charles Chaplin. I have had his (HH's, not CC's) picture on my desk (copied from an old yearbook) for the past year to remind me to try to be half as good as he was, if that is possible.
More stuff from the memory banks... I had always done pretty well in German, no brag, just fact. I will balance that by saying that if I ever played baseball that everybody would declare an instant out when I was up at bat. Hey, we can't do everything, right? Anyhow, I decided that the A's that I was getting in German were not good enough, and that I wanted that good old Honors mark, so I asked Herr Hoffmann if there was anything extra that I could do, and he lent me a book "Aus deutscher Vergangenheit." Ok, take the book home and get out the dictionary and the fork. A term went by without any improvement in my report card, so I gave the book back. The next term was still an A but the effort mark had gone down. Poop! Onkel Jerry was total fun, but he was also total deadly serious business. Another time a classmate asked to see my homework before we turned it in. I showed her, and when I got mine returned to me with a big hairy F on it. He explained that he had gotten two papers that were exactly the same, and had given both authors a failing grade. What a wise way to handle the situation, and it was kind of him to let me know that he knew what had really happened and to let me do the homework over again for a better result.
There was some national German language contest that I entered, and came in 2nd runner up for New York State. (Could not play volleyball either - the ball had a death wish for my fingers, which I had better uses for in brass band) There were a few of us winners from Niskayuna High School (because we had the best teacher in the country!!) and the Schenectady Gazette local newspaper came around for pictures. I found the newsclipping recently when we were cleaning up to move, and was shocked to see the winners and the principal and the head of the language department, but no Herr Hoffmann! Not to include him in the picture was an insult that I did not pick up on at the time because I was young and stupid. I mean, the principal and the language dep't guy had not taught me anything. It should have been Herr Hoffmann in that picture. That was another thing that I should have told him.
There are so many things that I wanted to tell him, but there goes that old propriety again. I listen to Dr. Laura sometimes (We get on hour a week over the military network), and she said that if you are trying to communicate with someone and they do not respond, that you are bothering them and that you should stop. I would write and he would not send much of an answer back (and that was ok), so in my heart I knew that I might be annoying him, but I was just so happy to have found him again that I couldn't stop. I think that I told you, but I had been looking around for him on the Internet with no success, until I ran across a website entry on a German dog page that said that a Jerome F. Hoffmann was desperately wanting to adopt a black mini schnauzer in 1998. (What has happened to Karl-August?) I did not want to be too much of a pain, so if he did not remember me or did not feel like discussing old times I did not want to force the issue. Maybe I should have said to heck with propriety. Yes, I should have, but I was only acting on the basis of what I knew, and that was obviously not much. But, that is probably the way that Herr Hoffmann wanted it, as I can infer from your description of his being hit with a painful line drive. So, I am saying to heck with propriety now, and thank you for listening.
I stopped sending too many mails addressed personally to him, but found excuses to include him on my daily schedule in the form of putting him on an "undisclosed recipients" list for pictures that I send out to all and sundry. I have a kind of hobby of sending pictures that I take here and there around Tokyo to friends and relatives, just to let them know that have not been abducted by space aliens. I wish that he could have come and visited us here, but dragging him all over the Japanese countryside by sending him pictures was the next best thing. It was when these started bouncing at the end of May that I began to worry about him in earnest, as I had not really heard anything from him since last November. I imagine he had other more important things on his mind. He is still in the list, and I don't think that I can bring myself to delete him. If you like, I could add you and/or your mother. As I told Herr Hoffmann, nobody is expected to respond to anything, just look, enjoy and delete. It sure would be nice if somebody could look at email that I wanted to keep sending to him. If you aren't interested, just ignore the suggestion.
What else do I remember? He always wore long sleeved shirts, even in the summer, because according to him, his arms were too sexy. He could catch flies in his bare hands and release them unhurt. See? Everything listened to him! Little boys who play with dandelions wet the bed at night. His office....All the other teachers in the Foreign Language Resource Center (that was what they called it) had cubbyhole desks in the back room, but not Herr Hoffmann! He had his very own special little closet of an office, with the walls covered with books and posters. Once on his birthday (When was that?) we left him several boxes of a snacky junk food called Screaming Yellow Zonkers rocking back and forth on an empty bookshelf. And then there was the time when he treated the entire class to a pack of Gummibaer candy. I had never experienced them before. I was glad to hear that he had gotten a fancy car. Back then he always drove a purple mustang, I think it was, with German flag decals on the sides.
I once asked him how he came to study the German language, and he told me that he would tell me later... I mean, he was such a master, and so authentic! He must have spent alot of time in Germany, but I don't know that. It seems like he might have spent alot of time in New Jersey, too.
I will stop bending your ear and your desktop for today, and write more as it comes to me. In Japan some people are designated as "Living National Treasures," for the skill that they possess, and Herr Hoffmann was one of mine. It all seems so silly, because I have not seen him in so many years, but to have been able to reestablish contact in the past year brought everything back to me. I mean, in whatever he wrote you could just see the twinkle in his eye, and I was so glad to know that he had not changed.
Karl August (4 years old) is now in the loving and capable hands of my parents, who also have a miniature black Schnauzer, Steffi.
My mom did inherit a wonderful, practically new BMW, which she can hardly drive without welling up.
Thanks for your memories of OJ...just so you know, he was my favorite 'crazy' uncle, but he wasn't around Jersey much...in the end, when he felt our love, I think he wondered why he lived so far away from his sister and his nephews...we, of course, didn't hold it against him that he wanted his space...truth be told, when we went to visit him on the cape, 24 hours of German radio/TV and music and were were all ready to bid "auf wiedersehen."
Thanks again, Jeff
Thanks for your email, and I have a feeling that I know just what you mean about space. I also felt that he wanted to maintain a bit of distance (even kind of felt that way in class, but luvved him anyhoo) which is why I did not push him to write too much.
I am really glad that he had a family to take care of him and love him in the end, because I had no idea that he had anyone, and worried about what might happen to him if he ever got old (he could never get old) or sick. Glad also to know that Karl August is in good hands.
Connie
