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THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

by LSF Publications


The Christmas Spirit

by Steve Timmons

Each year, as Christmas approaches, Heidi and I dig out Grandma Erika's old diaries and read once again the delightful story that lies at the root of our family heritage. It's a tale which we didn't really come to know until after she and my grandfather had both passed on. This Christmas, we decided to share it with you. A number of years ago...


My mood matched the bleak weather of that long past dismal November day. Thanksgiving was just around the corner and the Christmas season would follow quickly on its heels, typically a very festive time of year in my family and amongst our many friends of German ancestry here in York County, Pennsylvania.

This year, I thought with a sigh, it'll take a lot more than Christmas decorations and parties to lift my spirits. And rightly so, I reminded myself. It was just too soon. It'd only been a couple of months since their passing, my paternal grandparents, that is, Konrad and Erika Hoffman.

Both in their late nineties, they'd passed away within weeks of each other, Grandpa Konrad first, after nearly seventy years together, seventy happy, prosperous years, I should add.

And well deserved happiness, too! For they'd raised not only their own blended family but, after the death of my parents in an auto accident when I was only ten, they'd taken on the task of raising my older sisters and me, seeing us all through college, and in my case law school, and into happy marriages of our own.

I'd been both flattered and honored when, on my first day in private law practice, they'd entrusted me with the preparation of their wills and named me executor of their estates. Not that their estates were in any way complicated for these were simple hard working folks. Grandpa was a professor of German Studies at nearby York College and Grandma owned a small import company specializing in products from Germany.

They lived and exemplified the American dream.

Now, after weeks of gentle persuasion by my darling wife, we were finally beginning the sad task of sorting through their possessions, the mementos of a long and loving marriage, which seemed to fill their charming old home from cellar to attic.

Ultimately, I supposed, the old house, the house in which I'd grown up from the age of ten, would have to be sold. My sisters and their husbands were well settled in their own homes and my grandparent's house seemed just too big for so far childless newlyweds like Heidi and me. It was the practical thing to do, my lawyerly mind informed me, with the proceeds of the sale to be divided amongst the heirs. Practical but...


Truthfully, we didn't get a lot done that first day. It was more like surveying the house to see what we were up against. I'd gravitated toward the cellar where I knew I'd find many of my grandfather's things while Heidi headed for the attic to prowl around amongst Grandma Erika's treasures.

When it came time to call it a day, she had me haul a large box of very old notebooks out to the car.

"I want to take a better look at these when we get home," she explained.

"What are they?"

"Your Grandmother's diaries, all the way back to when she was a girl in Germany, I barely had time to skim through them but they look very interesting and I really want to sit down and read them more carefully."

Dutifully, I carted the box out to the car and then into the house when we got home after a quick meal at one of our favorite restaurants. Other than that, I didn't think much more about them. After all, what man wants to read a girl's old diary, even if she does wind up becoming his grandmother?

The short answer, as it turned out, was me!


It was a couple of nights later, after we'd finished a late dinner and I was about to catch the last part of the Seventy-sixers' game, when Heidi convinced me to leave the television off.

"Hank, I've been reading Erika's diaries. They're more like short stories, actually, and some of them are fascinating. They go back to when she was about ten year's old, living in Germany. You should really take a look at them!" she enthused.

I rolled my eyes and gave her a "spare me" kind of look, to which she answered. "Don't be like that, you old grump!" she chided good-naturedly. "The story of how she met and married Konrad is really wonderful. Did you know he wasn't her first husband?"

"I'd forgotten that," I admitted.

Sensing she had my attention, Heidi took my hand and led me to the couch. We sat with my arm around her shoulders as she began to read from one of Erika's diaries.


As I've already mentioned, Konrad was a professor of German Studies. In his younger years, in the early 1920's, he'd taken a sabbatical to write a book. To begin his research, he travelled to Germany, to the small village from which his own grandparents had emigrated to the U.S. and where many Hoffmann relatives still lived.

The post-World War One years were a very difficult time for Germany, thanks in large measure to the onerous terms of the Treaty of Versailles imposed by the victors, a treaty to which the U.S. was not a party. As a result of that, along with his family ties of course, Konrad was treated with warmth and friendship upon his arrival in the summer of 1922.

He was a young man then, only 26 and not married. He took up residence with his great uncle and insisted on paying for his room and board. The money was more than welcome, as he quickly discovered. It didn't take long for him to get the lay of the land and even though it was still mid-summer, he could see that the coming winter would be hard.

One of the first things he did was write home to Pennsylvania to ask his relatives to organize a relief effort for the village. He was enough of a pragmatist to understand that he couldn't help the whole country but with the cooperation of his family in the U.S., he could, perhaps, do something for this one small village.

He was especially interested in trying to make Christmas a time of happiness for the young children of the village, many of whom were now orphans as a result of the war. He kept his plans to himself for a long time, until he had confidence that the needed assistance would be forthcoming.

Early in the fall, when the genial village schoolmaster fell seriously ill with a bad case of influenza, Herr Professor Hoffmann was pressed into service as a substitute while the old gentleman recovered.

It was in this capacity that he first came into contact with two little children named Hans and Trude. Their mother, Erika, was also a young war widow, the oldest of three attractive daughters of a local farmer. Forced by financial constraints to move back in with her parents, she helped out on the farm to support herself and her children.

Her younger sisters, Karin 20 and Elke 18, also lived at home. In other times, these two young beauties, or at least Karin, might already have been married but the shortage of eligible men from the same cause which made Erika a widow, had so far made that impossible.

Most of the children in the school wore hand me down clothing, much of it patched and sewn to keep it serviceable. Hans and Trude wore clothing which, while always spotlessly clean, was clearly at the poorest end of that scale.

Without thinking too much about possible repercussions, Konrad took it upon himself to shop around for something better for them and, one day after school, privately presented them with neat little bundles to take home.

The next day, he received an unexpected visit from their mother. Two things struck him immediately: First, how beautiful the young widow was and second, how upset she was as she plopped the two bundles on his desk and launched into an angry diatribe.

Konrad spoke what he always considered pretty fluent German but he had a rough time keeping up with Erika's torrent of words. Finally, when she seemed to have exhausted herself, he managed to get a word or two in edgewise.

Slowly and carefully, he convinced the tall, striking blonde with the flashing eyes and the stunning figure that he meant no harm, that he hoped she would forgive the clumsiness of his gesture, that she would permit him the privilege of sharing his blessings with her children and, by the way, would she consider accompanying him to a nearby shop for coffee and pastry.

Disarmed by this American's obvious charm as much, perhaps, as by his sincerity, Erika pleased him and surprised herself by saying yes. As they enjoyed their afternoon snack, Konrad convinced her that it would be better if her children could wear clothing more like their classmates lest they become the butt of cruel jokes and he prevailed upon her to accept the little bundles of clothing.

He also prevailed upon her to allow him to call on her, with her father's permission, of course, and she agreed to allow him to ask for that permission. That was the start of it, though it was far from a smooth courtship. Whenever Konrad felt he was making progress, Erika would pull back and retreat within herself. For, as much as Erika liked the young American (and her diary made that plain), she was aware, as were they all, that his time in Germany was limited and she worried, frankly, that she would once again be left alone with a broken heart.

She worried, as well, for the effect on her children in whom Konrad took special interest. Trude had been born after her father's death and Hans' memories of his dad had long since faded, both were drawn to him like moths to a flame.

In the meantime, Konrad's secret Christmas plans were bearing fruit. In November, he had a letter from home assuring him that a large shipment of toys and clothing for the children was already on the water and would arrive in good time.

Knowing none of this and taking counsel of her own fears, when he began talking of presents for the children, Erika felt she had to put her foot down.

"I cannot allow it, Konrad," she told him firmly. "It will only give them false hopes for a future they cannot have."

Still not ready to disclose his plans, feeling it better to wait until he was certain the shipment would arrive on time, Konrad tried to reason with her only to be told that her mind was made up. Bad as that was, he was totally nonplussed when she went on to say that she was just being realistic, that it was foolish to have hopes when there was no hope to be had. The whole village felt that way, she concluded.


Worried now that his plan was about to backfire, Konrad didn't sleep very well that night. After mulling things over, he decided to speak with Erika's parents, Christian and Liesel. Taking them into his confidence, Konrad told them everything. It turned out to be a good decision.

The Mueller's were very impressed with what Konrad had planned for Christmas and, contrary to their daughter, believed that it would give the entire village a much needed boost.

"She used to be such a happy girl," Liesel lamented. "But since the war..."

"Yah," Christian agreed. "She's always put up a front for the children but inside..."



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