I feel a bit nostalgic just now…perhaps it’s the music playing. Let me ‘splain.
(Is nostalgia a waste of time or does it serve to integrate a past self?)
I’m fortunate enough to have grown up with a best friend who was a second generation German and whose uncle was the leader of a German
Ist das nicht dein schnitzelbank? (Isn't that your carving bench?)
Ja, das ist mein schnitzelbank. (Yes, that is my carving bench.)
Ohhhh, du schoene,
Ohhhh, du schoene,
Ohhhh, du schoene,
Schnit-zel-bank! (Oh, you wonderful carving bench!)
I have their CD playing now and it is sort of a time-warp to hear his uncle sing again.
I remember the time we felt entitled to go through his attic – what we were thinking I can’t imagine though perhaps we were given permission – and were shocked to find a couple Playboy magazines amid the boxes of baseball cards. Funny, I remember wanting the cards more than the magazines (that would soon change). Amid the no-name ‘50s cards was a Mickey Mantle. I still recall the awe (and shock)! I was too young to have ever seen the Mick play so he'd taken on mythical proportions, a sort of modern Babe Ruth who'd once hit a ball over 500 feet. My friend was given the card by his uncle, and for years held onto it. But finally I managed to trade for the card (probably giving up Reds cards for it since the currency of Reds was great). I never traded it back. The card was pure class - the Mick a HOF'r, the Yankees royalty, and the card itself a work of art. Baseball cards teach you lust of ownership.
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