Chronicles of a History

When does the history of someone start? When the person is born? Nope. Neither it only goes back to when their parents met. It goes as far back as all the involved ones can remember, considering what they actually know about their own history.

This one will take us back to 1946. That's when David Engelmann, son of Ettel and Mika Engelmann, was born, in a small town in Illinois – U.S.A., where his parents owned a small farm, where his brothers and he, starting at age 7, were put to labor from the time they got home from school almost until supper time.

Both Ettel and Mika were German – Mika was half Japanese – immigrants of Jewish heritage, saved from The Holocaust by the Allies, then brought to the U.S., where they already had family, German farmers, who had immigrated there over twenty years before them. They had already taken in Ettel and Mika's oldest child, in 1939. So, Ettel, Mika and another child, a four-year-old son, who was living in Belgium with a friendly Dutch family, during World War II, were also taken in and given a piece of land, where they could start anew.

Growing up, David realized he didn't want to be a farmboy, though. He didn't have that in him. Even though he loved nature, he didn't want to spend his whole life doing the same things, every day, over and over. He had dreams, goals that he wanted to achieve. First of all, he wanted to be free to go, do and be wherever, whatever and however he pleased. He dreamed of getting to know new places, new cultures, learning new languages. He wanted to study and learn lots of stuff. He wanted to make money, so he could buy a car to travel around the country, and even a house of his own, preferably in a beach state, since he really loved the ocean. Maybe he could even travel around the world. But he knew he'd have to get way out of his so-called comfort zone and work hard, if he wanted those dreams to become reality.

David's parents were no picnic. Especially his mother, who was very strict. His father was a bit rough around the edges, but was more easygoing, in general.

As soon as Mika had heard of David's plans of leaving the farm for some uncertain fate, she had convinced her husband to suspend the boy's allowance, so that he couldn't possibly manage to afford leaving.

Ettel made the boys work so much and so hard, but he was open to the idea of his kids leaving the farm and trying to make a life of their own, when they were grown and seemed smart enough to take care of themselves – and he was even willing to help them, financially, whenever that time came.

On the other hand, Mika saw that idea as utter ungratefulness and stupidity, and was not about to allow anyone to go anywhere, until they got married and could afford more than just to make ends meet. Because she hadn't carried those children in her womb for over forty weeks just to let them go unnecessarily struggling and stumbling their ways through life.

"But that's what living is all about, Ma. We live and we learn through experience, like when the mother birds push their little ones off the nest, so they can learn how to fly, you know," said David, while his mother was sitting at the breakfast table, in the kitchen, looking rather annoyed, and he was calmly cooking his own toasts, bacon and scrambled eggs.

For a boy his age, he was pretty decent at cooking. Well, that's the least one would expect from a person who wants to go live on their own.

Everyone else had already eaten, except for David. He was exceptionally allowed to wake up later than his siblings, that morning, because he had to stay up late, the night before, to finish an assignment for school. He was supposed to hand it in on the previous day, but he wasn't able to finish it on time, since labor had been even more time-consuming than usual, that whole week. So, Ettel went along with David to school, explained what had happened, apologized to the teacher, on his son's behalf, and promised that it wouldn't happen again. Then the teacher, Miss Fletcher, gave David permission to come by her house and hand the paper in on the next day, a Saturday.

After the Holocaust, Ettel and Mika were so traumatized, that they had decided to drop or adapt most of their Jewish customs, fearing they might suffer more discrimination, even in the land of the free, the United States, their new home. Therefore, since Sunday is the seventh day of the week, in the United States, they decided Shabbat would now be observed on Sundays, instead. They also decided to end their restriction on the consumption of pork, since it was what most gave them away as Jews. Ending the abstinence didn't mean they'd have to disregard the principle behind it, in their hearts.

"Did you just hear this boy, Ettel? Don't you wonder how he comes up with such crazy ideas? If I were the type who likes bets, I would bet you that he's learned such nonsense at school. From his colleagues, probably, because I don't believe the teachers would be absurd and incite kids to recklessly run away from their homes," Mika blurted, while pouring herself some coffee into hot milk she had previously reserved in a brown porcelain mug.

"Well, where's the nonsense in it? I didn't hear any. It's actually quite mature and admirable, if you ask me. And it is not running away. Don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

After Ettel's response, Mika carefully laid her mug back down on the table and glowered at him, leaning in towards him.

"How am I overreacting, now, Ettel? If it's not running away, what do you call it? And, please, do explain to me how his reckless plans sound admirable to you. And mature?? He's only twelve years old. Twelve, for crying out loud!"

"I'm not going to leave at my current age, Mom. I want to finish school, first. So, I'll see if I can hold on until then."

The other two boys were already outside, taking care of their chores. Otto, the oldest, was trying to pull Johann, the youngest, off the window he was eavesdropping from. David noticed it and shooed Johann off with a hand gesture.

"Be quiet, boy! I was talking to your father, not to you. And, no, you are not going anywhere. Do you hear me?"

"My point, exactly. He's only twelve, but his mentality and maturity are far above what's expected of a kid his age. And what he said makes sense. How can someone learn how to live, without going through things in their lives? How do kids learn how to walk?" Ettel replied, avoiding Mika's glare.

"There's a big difference between those situations you're trying to compare. When kids are learning how to walk, we are there to prevent them from hurting themselves."

"But not the whole time. We can't possibly be there the entire time, to prevent them from falling down, can we? They will stumble and they will fall, and that's okay, because that's how they will learn how to get back on their feet and keep trying to walk, and eventually they will be walking on their own. We cannot protect them from everything, Mika."

'Exactly! Wow, I love you, Pops,' David thought, while picking up his toasts, placing them on his plate and trying to lose his grin, before turning around and heading to the table. 'Why can't you be at least a bit as understanding as he is, Ma? I don't get why you make such a big deal out of it.'

"Ettel, if I'm not watching my kids, and they twist an ankle, while learning how to walk, that'll be my fault. Period."

"Well, we'll have plenty of time to discuss the matter, later. Alright? For now, let the kid eat in peace." He winked and smiled at her.

"You coddle him too much, you know? That's another thing for us to discuss, later on."

"Ok, sweetheart. It's gonna be a long talk, then. Well, I'm gonna check on the boys." Ettel got up from the table, picked up his hat from the coat hanger and headed out the backdoor. "Dave, as soon as you're back from Ms. Fletcher's, come help me and Johann shear the sheep. Try to not get distracted and forget all about it, on your way back."

"Yes, sir!" David got up and responded, then sat back down, after his father left.