Herr Gruenwald
Mom was a newcomer to the country, but felt keen about supporting other artists newly arrived from the old country struggling to feed their families. She decided we needed music lessons from Herr Doktor Pogner, a wonderful musician who would come to our house once a week and teach us in the comforts of our home. He brought a real wooden recorder, and we had a semi-private lesson, Tyll and I. (Can you see the folly of that already?) With one recorder, or "Flote" as we called it, we were to take turns playing and practicing during the week. I found it extremely difficult to make the correct sounds. Tyll found it fun to make the incorrect sounds. Between us two, it was "fiascoes were us". Not only that, Tyll made it his job to mimic Herr Doktor Pogner with his wire-rimmed glasses, accented German, giving me the lessons, causing me to laugh throughout my entire practice time. It ended up with me chasing him throughout the house, waving the Flote and belting him over the head with it. The next lesson, Herr Doktor Pogner was not impressed with the tone of the Flote, and examined it, took it apart, finding tape all over the inside where a large chip had broken off. He had a long talk with Mother, and the decision was made to cease lessons, since "The children obviously did not appreciate the value of music instruction at this time."
Opa was constantly complaining about "Die gesangte Sow" that lived upstairs. He was relieved to know that music lessons had ended abruptly, and the torturing of pigs had ended for the time being. We were left with the permanently unusable instrument, which we continued to use to torture each other and mimic Herr Doktor Pogner.
Opa however had developed a yearning for real music: a real "singer", and so Herr Gruenwald came to the house. He owned a pet store in the city, "Oswald's Pet Store" and made house calls. He brought a cage, a canary, food, and all the extras. "A Sure-fire Singer", he guaranteed to Opa, and had a small glass of wine with Oma. Oma always had a bottle of thick red wine in the kitchen for any visitors, Manischewitz wine, a sweet concord wine she offered to all who came to the house. She served the wine in glasses the size of the medicine caps found with cold medicine today, very very tiny, and kept in the China cupboard only for that wine. I believe that generation believed it was a form of medicine. If the mailman or the grocer came in, they had a tiny glass of Manischewitz wine.
Opa waited for his canary to sing.
Tyll would sit and play in the room where he played cards, and Opa would complain, there were so many "Weibern" around the poor boy... the women should leave him alone. The boy needed to grow up in peace. When I came to play with Musschi, he would tell me to stop playing with the cat, he knew just how she felt, and she would not like to be fussed at!
After a week or two, Opa was fussing at that canary, as it did not sing. He had Mami move the cage, and was upset and short with Oma. Mami had to check the water and food, change the sand, give it extra lettuce, all to no avail. Herr Gruenwald was called. He came and checked on the canary. He could find nothing amiss, but brought another bird. This one was slightly orange, and the very next morning started singing trills and operatic runs, arias of the most splendid type. Opa was thrilled. Herr Gruenwald was called and praised for his excellent choice of bird. "I must have accidentally given you a female the first time," he apologized. Opa's comment to us all, "Dumme Weibern!"
Opa was constantly complaining about "Die gesangte Sow" that lived upstairs. He was relieved to know that music lessons had ended abruptly, and the torturing of pigs had ended for the time being. We were left with the permanently unusable instrument, which we continued to use to torture each other and mimic Herr Doktor Pogner.
Opa however had developed a yearning for real music: a real "singer", and so Herr Gruenwald came to the house. He owned a pet store in the city, "Oswald's Pet Store" and made house calls. He brought a cage, a canary, food, and all the extras. "A Sure-fire Singer", he guaranteed to Opa, and had a small glass of wine with Oma. Oma always had a bottle of thick red wine in the kitchen for any visitors, Manischewitz wine, a sweet concord wine she offered to all who came to the house. She served the wine in glasses the size of the medicine caps found with cold medicine today, very very tiny, and kept in the China cupboard only for that wine. I believe that generation believed it was a form of medicine. If the mailman or the grocer came in, they had a tiny glass of Manischewitz wine.
Opa waited for his canary to sing.
Tyll would sit and play in the room where he played cards, and Opa would complain, there were so many "Weibern" around the poor boy... the women should leave him alone. The boy needed to grow up in peace. When I came to play with Musschi, he would tell me to stop playing with the cat, he knew just how she felt, and she would not like to be fussed at!
After a week or two, Opa was fussing at that canary, as it did not sing. He had Mami move the cage, and was upset and short with Oma. Mami had to check the water and food, change the sand, give it extra lettuce, all to no avail. Herr Gruenwald was called. He came and checked on the canary. He could find nothing amiss, but brought another bird. This one was slightly orange, and the very next morning started singing trills and operatic runs, arias of the most splendid type. Opa was thrilled. Herr Gruenwald was called and praised for his excellent choice of bird. "I must have accidentally given you a female the first time," he apologized. Opa's comment to us all, "Dumme Weibern!"
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