not a Berliner

There in the distance? That's the JFK bridge in Hamburg.
There in the distance? That’s the JFK Bridge in Hamburg.

Lately, there’s been plenty for me write about, and I just haven’t been doing it. The last several posts were photos that I certainly liked, but there wasn’t much text. The whole point of this blog is to show off my writing, so these filler posts without much content go against what I originally set out to do. There might be times when a curious photo and a few lines of texts is all I’ve got time or energy for, but I’d prefer that to be the exception rather than the rule.

My favourite week in Munich tends to be when we have our Filmfest, which starts this weekend, so I already had something up my sleeve in which I’d planned to ramp up this blog again. Then I was out and about with Ella and Louis, the sister and brother Hungarian Vizslas that have featured prominently in this blog, and found myself walking across the John F. Kennedy Bridge.

Why not at least  a mention of what happened today, 26 June, exactly 50 years ago? If you’re like I am, you check out ‘this day in history’-type entries in the paper or online, so you already know that this is the day in 1963 that Kennedy gave his famous ‘Ich bin ein Berliner‘ speech in front of the Rathaus Schöneberg in West Berlin

Whatever you think of his politics, and I’m most certainly not going to get into that here, it was the height of the Cold War, and a significant gesture of solidarity to the citizens living in the divided once and future capital of Postwar Germany.

The Berlin Wall went up, and the Americans response was to send planes in filled with supplies, so that the city could continue to survive while surrounded by  Soviet-supported East Germany. Not an easy time here in my adopted home country, and at that moment in history it was incredibly unclear what was going to happen next.

The gratitude that West Germany felt for Kennedy’s show of support – both symbolic, as well as practical – was what led to major German cities naming things like bridges after him. The one here in Munich is the northern part of the Middle Ring Road that goes over the River Isar. It’s not particularly beautiful, and I doubt many locals under a certain age even realise that the bridge even has a name. 

The Kennedy Bridge in Hamburg (pictured above) is what divides the Binnenalster and Außenalster, which are the beautiful lakes right in the heart of the Hansestadt that is Hamburg. Whether you’re on the S-Bahn or ICE Train between the Main Train Station and the Dammtor, in which case you’re riding along the JFK Bridge, or walking along the Alster, there’s a memorial to Kennedy staring back at you. 

Fifty years. Not such a terribly long time, I suppose. Wonder if they’d still name any of this stuff after him today. 

break bread like you mean it

20121220-181830.jpg

This was taken when I was sitting across from my mom at the café across from the Durham Cathedral and the Durham Castle. I’ve been meaning to write more about the particulars of this trip. There was so much we saw and did. You’d be surprised how well Fafa gets around.

The card that says, ‘Its all my parents fault,’ often makes me laugh.

It’s meant to be ironical folks. I blame my parents for very little. I used to, but eventually realised it was a waste of time. At some point one has to simply grow up.

You know what I blame my parents for? How decent I turned out. What a stand up guy I am? That’s Martha Frances and Bill Auvenshine’s doing.

I learned from my dad that you can show up for life. Even when you don’t feel like it. He was the kind of person who was there when he said he was coming. Actually, he was regularly early. And if I was late? It was ok. He had a book to read.

Time was fluid with him. As long as he was punctual, that’s all that mattered.

From my mom? What’d I learn?

You really want to know?

I learned and still learn from her that it’s never too late. Never. Forgiveness is still possible. There’s still hope.

She was a widowed before my birth and a single mom with my brother Michael just a few years later.

She persevered.

Did she blame her parents? She did not.

They did the best they could. Really.

While you break bread with your family this holiday season, cut your folks some slack. They won’t always be around.

Try being grateful for a change. Would it really hurt to try a bit of gratitude?