The Gschwendtners Go Griswold

My husband Mike and I had been to Germany several times prior to this little escapade.

Mike had relatives in Poppenburg, a small Bavarian town outside of Regensburg, though we had never visited them. As we planned this trip, we knew some family was still there, via another relative who had visited many years before.

I specifically asked Mike if he planned on visiting them this trip. He told me, "no," so I never found out specifics. I had nothing written down. But two weekends into our trip, Mike thought it would be a good idea to find his relatives after all.

Are you seeing how I am pulling up visions of Clark Griswold here? Now Mike would never, ever get us stuck in a roundabout or almost get us killed by an angry mob but I was having thoughts of finding the wrong relatives...

Now, our directions from my husband's aunt, who had been there many years earlier, were like this: Find a square and a store and ask at the store. Okay, I think they were a little more specific than that. We knew the name of the relative, and we asked in a store on the square and were directed to a house. It was like that.

Are you picturing the house number being hidden by ivy yet? Luckily, the owners were on their porch when we drove up. They were very distant relatives and very graciously explained in GermEnglish how we were related.

Mike speaks better German and explained how we knew their names. The relative we were looking for had passed away. But they knew where the family burial plot was in the local cemetery and were happy to show us there. 

Okay, here's where the goodness of people shines through. It was truly a wonderful gesture by a distant relative, a stranger. We were looking at headstones when the cousin who had directed us to the cemetery found us. She was with a woman, a very old woman. She was Mike's great aunt.

And when we met her there were tears. Her husband, George, had passed the previous spring.  She was very kind and offered to take us back to Mike's relatives' home.

Now, you're probably thinking that we were looking for DISTANT relatives. But the truth is we were talking about the home Mike's grandfather had been born in. Mike's great aunt rode with us and immediately began describing the family connection in detail in German.

My German is almost non-existent. At the time what I understood was that she was showing us the "Altes Haus" and the "Neues Haus." If you have never been awed by the courage of your immigrant relatives, visit where they came from. Mike's grandfather left Poppenburg on foot. He left from Hamburg, Germany and came to the United States. Truly humbling.

The house had been, clearly at one time, a farmhouse and still had the stable attached. Like a lot of German farming communities, there were a group of houses and fields. There we met Mike's cousins. They were clearly wondering what their mother was doing showing around two Americans.

Meeting Mike's cousins was so amazing. Why? Because Mike's cousin George is an electrician and loves to work on electronics (he collects antique radios). If you know Mike, you can see the family connection right there. It amazed me how two cousins, who grew up never knowing each other, could be so similar. It seriously made me consider the nature vs. nurture debate. Plus, Mike's cousin is married to a kindergarten teacher. Hmmm. At the time I was also teaching kindergarten.

We had tea together. Mike's great aunt brought out the photo album, and we were amazed to find pictures that Mike had seen growing up of his grandfather and grandmother. Clearly, the brothers had kept in touch.

Mike's great aunt also went on to explain that during World War II, the brothers, one of whom was living in Pennsylvania and the other fighting for the German side, had seen each other. We were able to surmise that Mike's Uncle George had, at some point, been a POW in the United States and his brother had travelled to see him. If you didn't think war was silly before...

We spent the day with Mike's family. We felt very welcome. It was a day that I am sure neither Mike nor I will forget. There really wasn't a Griswold moment, except for having to ask for directions to the first house. What truly touched me was how Mike's great aunt had held his hand for awhile during tea. I think she saw a lot of Gschwendtner there.

The day was special. And while I joke about going "Griswold," I would recommend finding out about your family during travel too. It reminds you of how small the world is and how family bonds can survive the test of time and distance.