Henry letter to Bernard Rustemeyer - September 10, 1921

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Duisburg-Ruhrort, 10 September 1921 My dear Bernard, Finally you'll be sure to rest easy, when this letter arrives at your house. I received both of your letters. I would like to have answered your first letter earlier, but want to though I could not do so earlier. In July I was deputized for a colleague who was on vacation. In August, in addition to my district, I had the garnishment of the industrial works in Hamburg. And so I had a double workload in both of those months. My wife and I did it all by ourselves. Often we just had to let everything be and lie down. Both of the girls have jobs so as to help out with earning some money. The oldest is with the Barmer Bank Association in Duisburg and the second is with a shipping office. On April 1, if I am out of debt, I'll take the second one in again. It was also too much for my wife during the duration. She served as housekeeper for six people, and that included laundry. In addition to that, she had to play the role of office manager. Now, my dear Bernard, I will answer both of your letters. I was very happy to receive the picture of my dear Bernard and his dear wife. Even if you seemed a bit strange after 39 years, with the mustache, I soon recognized once again my dear Bernard. I placed the picture on the desk in front of me. But I had to remove it because I was constantly occupied with thoughts of my old school buddy and therefore could accomplish nothing. Yes indeed, my dear Bernard, "Youth is wonderful, with its happy times. Youth is wonderful and returns no more" But your letter also calls to our attention a piece of sad news, that the dear, good Maria is no longer among the living. With joy and gladness do I recall the time when we little tots clothes in innocence, and we strolled around your barn and played house, Maria playing the mother. And you must certainly remember when later, in your house, she taught us how to dance. While I don't doubt for a moment that she is better off, I have included her, as well as your parents in my regular prayers for the deceased. If a mother has given life to and reared seven children, in my view she will be granted a good place in eternal life. I have taken much strength from this view, as I gather from your letter that the good old spirit still prevails in the Rustemeier family and that the things you learned in the church, the school, and in your parents' home are still sacred to you. All the more we have sincere sympathy for the suffering that Joseph brought to his dear wife. This all the more so since Joseph was known to me as a sincere, gentle, and prudent character. He took after his mother completely, so that between the two of them he had developed himself into a very cordial disposition. I still picture him, how as a neat soldier and young defender of his country, he knelt at the deathbed of his mother and saw his loss. His mother was very concerned about him when he was called into service. The armored soldier didn't exactly belong to the easy arm of the service, especially since the awkward armor was still in full flower, though later relegated to the junk room. Around 1890 the whole cavalry was equipped with lances, which up until that time only the --- had. I don't doubt that Joseph, as senior of the whole Rustemeier family, is a good advisor in doubtful matters. We wish his dear wife a good recovery. I remember when I as an urchin stood before Joseph and admired his beautiful uniform. He set me on his Muebe and let me look in the mirror. Now, my dear Bernard, I see from your dear letter that the whole Rustemeier family is greatly concerned on account of my administrative circumstances, and are even ready to offer support. As I read this part of the letter to my wife, neither one of us could hide the tears any longer. I really should tell my siblings about this generous offer, which leaves nothing to be desired as to your love of neighbor, but I won't. Around Eastertime it seems to have dawned on Franz and Anton when they saw the circumstances in which I found myself. Anton remarked, "Man, how old and gray you have become!" They both also wanted to take me into their homes and play the host to me, which I declined. Yes, dear Bernard, it hurts when one has to pass by the parents' house, in which he grew up under the care of his parents. As I pulled into the city of your birth, the following poem came spontaneously to mind: I came back into my homeland. It was still the old homeland. The same air, the same songs, And yet everything was different. The waves crashed as before In the forest the deer bounded as usual. In the distance evening bells were ringing. The hills sparkled out of the sea. Yet in front of the house where mother always welcomed, there I saw strange people, foreign-born How deeply was I pained there! It was as though the waves were calling, Flee! Flee -- and don't return! The ones you love have been snatched away And return forever nevermore. Also, I was reminded of the moment when, 39 years ago, we shook hands in farewell. With a bleeding heart I watched you go, until I could see you no longer. When I beheld the Rustemeier family reluctantly splitting up, I would have preferred nevertheless to bring back my playmates Maria and Bernard. May God watch over you. It would have been so wonderful! May God watch over you. It was not meant to be. Dear Bernard, if I were to take advantage of your generous offer, I would have to call my behavior not only greedy but even shameful. You yourselves have children to car for. Anyway, the worst time is behind me. The children did get a pair of stockings. We had bed coverings from which my wife made shirts. My sister sister still sends old clothes of her deceased husband and her fallen son. They were only rags, to be sure, but my wife and my oldest daughter are good seamstresses and are still making things from them for the youngster. At the moment I am on holiday. During this time support will again be put in place. The old rags don't keep one particularly warm any more, but when it gets very cold I put on two shirts and two underpants. Things are getting better all the time, and therefore I bid you not to be too concerned about us. Everything is getting to be somewhat cheaper, but this colossal drought set us back another year, and prices will soon be skyrocketing again. Here at the Rhine we have had practically no rain since Easter, and nearly everything is dried up. My in-law Bruene in Koerbecke writes that it isn't so bad there he will see to it that I get 30 hundredweight of potatoes from Woeller. God will help us. God will help us. In your first letter you ask whether you should write to my brothers about their behavior. I leave that to your discretion, but I ask you not to go into particulars. I can't make them accountable for the sale of my plot of land. The well known adage applies here: "Whatever mess one gets himself into, he also has to eat his way out of it." But they really should have sent their surplus food to their brother first, rather than to strangers. I wanted to pay them for it, and indeed for the same price that other paid. I was unable to leave and get something by lying in wait for it. I had 4 districts to work, at Warmbade and Steckrueben. Yes, dear Bernard, many a time I was so completely in the district, that I had to call a halt, and didn't know when the next streetcar would arrive. The folks who know me here had already abandoned me. But God heard my prayer. I prayed to hold on to my property would not be sold out from under them, leaving them standing there naked in the end. God willing, my wish will be granted on April 1. My in-law Brune once asked Franz whether he could spare me a pound of butter, and Franz said no. His oldest daughter Klara, who was with us 1 1/2 years until war broke out, wrote at the beginning of the war to inquire whether we wanted butter and eggs. My wife replied that she should send some. But nothing came because Franz had forbidden her to send them. Dear Bernard, up until war broke out I had an income of 12-13000 Mk to live of. In the good times I shared my good fortune with my next of kin like a good-natured jerk. In my need, not one of them were concerned about me. At this time I was reminded of the words of a legend dictated by my earlier teacher in Cologne, which goes as follows: When things went well for me on Earth, everybody, everybody, wanted to be my friend. But when I came to be in need, my friends were all dead. Now, my dear Bernard, we don't want to imitate the views of my siblings and amass not only earthly, but protection for eternity, for which pure opportunity presents itself to the ger. Wollz If I have to beg for bread from door to door, I'll pass by the doors of my siblings. The words of the most blessed queen Louisa apply to them: Who never ate his bread with tears, in nights filled with cares, Sat on his bed weeping, Your heavenly mighty one does not know you. I enclose yet another memento of the homeland. You will certain still recognize the Tangelimns. The high altar, which you have already received, is intended for Josef. Anton and Ferdinand will also receive more mementos, as soon as I received some. Bruene got these for me. In addition I am sending you in pictures the Schleups cousin, who Josef and Anton liked so much. In fact it is the last picture of its kind, but fro the Rustemeier family I can spare it. We had the picture taken in 1893 in Koeln-Ehrenfeld, while my father was visiting me and I, as a young chap, had just been promoted to sergeant-major. I still hardly had hair under my nose. What exactly is Anton doing these days? Does he still have the old sense of humor? What Anton didn't know, the schlaup did. It's a shame that your aged father has died. He would certainly have been visibly elated to see his old friend Klogges once again, in the pictures. I don't doubt that there was great joy when he found his old friends in eternal life in 1910. You write that I have forgotten you. Not so, dear Bernard, that is not the case. My colossal work has always kept me from writing. On October 1 the large city of Hamborn will receive its own court, by which I was massively burdened. Then, dear Bernard, I will find time to write to my dear Bernard. I have told my wife about my dear friend Bernard at every opportunity. She has a very lively interest in our old friendship. Even if she didn't come to know the Rustemeier family very personally because of her comparative youth, she still recalls when Marie came weeping from the cemetery where she had said her goodbyes to her mother. And she remember when she had her mother by the hand when her mother said to you, "Bernard, why are you also carrying on?," as you stood at your barn and wept. For the last three years of my military service we took a course from a civilian teacher to prepare us for a civil service career. He gave us as an essay the poem "Die Buergerschaft," which we had to translate. With this opportunity I always thought of my dear friend Bernard. The poem goes as follows: .... Yes, my dear Bernard, fidelity is no empty delusion. I, too, agree with the selections in your letter. What joy would be ours, if we could once again engage in conversation. Tell me, please, whether you wouldn't like to look up the old homeland once again. I'm sure I don't have to assure you that my door is always open to you. My wife and children, too, would be happy to have you visit. But if that is not granted to us, dear boy, to once again shake hands in this life, then God willing the joy of seeing each other again in eternal life will be all the greater, and doubtless the selection from the "Buergschaft" will become a reality for us. The both of them embrace, and weep for pain and for joy. I want to thanks you for the pictures you sent me, and for your well wishes. Also. I ask you to inform your dear wife, children and their wives in this spirit. Your son Anton is a strong fellow. Now, dear Bernard accept for today for you and for your whole family best greetings and wishes from your old faithful Henry and family Dear Bernard, Please be so kind and don't write to my brothers. I am afraid that it could create the impression that I want something of them.