How My Interest in Genealogy Began
The truth is, I think my interest began way before that when I was 20 years old. I joined the Army in 1983 and found I would be stationed in West Germany after I completed my Basic Training & AIT (Advanced Individual Training). Before I left for West Germany, I sat down with my father to see what he remembered about his time in Germany during and after WWII. When my father was about 6 months old, my grandparents took him & my aunt and left Oswiecim, Poland in about 1943 and made their way to southern Germany via the Tatry Mountains.
My Aunt Anastazja & father in Gartenstrasse, Uffenheim, Germany, 2 October 1948My father was very young of course, but surprisingly he did have some memories of places he had been. They spent much of their time in DP camps, but did eventually find a place to live outside the camps. My father told me all he remembered and drew maps of the places he lived to the best of his memory. One of the places he remembered best was a town called Uffenheim, so I decided that when I was in Germany, I would try and find this place. My father told me about the little girl he would play with & people in the neighborhood.It was the summer of 1984 when I finally had the chance to go exploring for Gartenstrasse (Garden Street) in Uffenheim. Gartenstrasse was a small "square" or dead end road with number of homes according to his memory. I took the train to Uffenheim and was the only one to get off at the train station just outside of the town. I walked into town and began my search of this street by only using the map my father made. I never had to ask for directions, my fathers memory was very good & I FOUND IT! I was so excited, that I called my father using a payphone (Yes, I called the States via payphone! :) ). My father was excited and I had tears in my eyes. The next step was to see if I could find the little girl he used to play with. he had marked the home that he remembered she lived. I went to the home and knocked on the door. I was met by a teenage girl, who spoke broken English. With my Broken German & her broken English we were able to communicate. She called to her parents and they came to the door. I explained what I was looking for and they said they had recently bought the house, but there was an older couple living across the street that had been there forever and would ask. We walked across the street and they talked to the couple. I was invited in and we sat at the kitchen table. They were excited to hear my story, because they remembered my father. The word got around the neighborhood VERY quickly and people were filing into this small kitchen to hear the story. The son of the shoemaker my father remembered actually closed his shop & came over. People were bringing little gifts for me and my bags would be filled on my return trip back to the base.
The most interesting part of this story, was that not only did the older couple remember my father, but they knew where the little girl (Erica) lived that he played with as a boy. In fact, the old woman had her telephone number & gave her a call and told her my story. Erica was in total disbelief as I talked with her on the telephone. We exchanged contact information and eventually I would later meet her & her husband who were living in Treuchlingen, Germany.
I think this really was the beginning of my interest in exploring my family history. After I made this contact with Erica, my father maintained contact with her & eventually met her in Germany in 1996. That is a completely different story to be told.
