Chapter 2: Me, the continuation of my Mom (part two)
So here I was, late-born son of aging, forlorn refugee parents, who were actually very sweet and lovely, but much too old-fashioned and conservative. They had become wealthy among the very people who had murdered their people, and in addition to this disturbing and annoying detail, I was doomed to be raised by a powerless and weak Mom. After she gave birth, she totally missed the energy to nurture the needs of a baby and a little kid and left far too much of my upbringing to some rotten German nurses, who behaved badly in her absence and crippled my soul. At least my Dad, the more I stumbled into puberty and he into old age, succeeded to reduce his bad choleric manners, mistreated his wife less and beat me up maybe three or four times in my hole childhood, which was a great progress in light of the fact, that his own Dad had abused him several times a week, when he was a kid. His financial success made him proud and satisfied with himself and all these fears of getting killed like the rest of his family during the war or to impoverish and be again poor and without income, he banned into his nightmares, that regularly haunted him, as we could tell by his screams on a lot of nights. But as I said, during the daytime he became all in all a very lovely and smooth guy, who hugged and kissed me as much as he could – a proud, handsome and funny person, who made me, his son, proud of him. The older, more mature and more understanding I got, the more I loved, laughed and smiled about my parents’ comical tendencies behind their tragic stories. Especially my Mom was a real hit, when she became upset about him and started to humiliate and insult him in her juicy Yiddish, while he cordially ignored her with his dirty dignified smile, even when she cursed him and diminished all his achievements, maintaining, that if it was not for my grand-mother who had hooked him up with this younger and brighter business-partner, he would have been a failure, not a success. My grand-mother, who was so naughty to leave earth 6 weeks, before I was born, putting me into the miserable situation to grow up without any grandparent, since my father’s parents were not given the honor to be murdered by the Nazis, but simply died in unspectacular ways before the war, due to the poverty in the Shtetl; my Grand-Ma, when she gave birth to my aunt and my awesome child-beating super-religious Grand-Pa a few years later, when he was befell by encephalitis lethargica, the so called sleeping sickness, a lethal virus, who wandered around Eastern Europe in those dark times in the end of the 1920ies.
All that remain to me, being confronted with the misery of my Mom, my true genetic female predecessor, being furthermore a tortured soul through the upbringing by those German bitches, that were sent to me by some Jew-hating German devil to babysit my childhood; all that remained to me, when I woke up from childhood and puberty, facing adultness, was my deep love to the lady my Mom could have developed into, but did never really had a chance to develop into; a profoundly hopeless love, never ever to be responded. Now, that I had turned into a juvenile adult, not having the slightest idea, how to go on with my life, my aching desire for the Polish noble lady that my Mom never became, sublimed into my love to the old Poland, the language I did not understand, because my Mom never spoke it with me, because she was awfully disappointed by the culture, that was actually her culture, but had spit her out without any pity and turned her soul into a wreck, all covered by the perverse surface of the good and bourgeois life in post-war-Germany, a well – and bad – meaning destiny had prepared for her uprooted life.