I am a second-generation American. My grandfather immigrated from Germany in the late 1800s. He left behind a large family of brothers, sisters and cousins and came to join the American German community that I was eventually born into.
During World War 2 my family sent weekly packages to those German relatives who were being rationed the essentials of life. The packages contained such items as coffee, sugar, canned fruit/vegetables, stockings, hats, gloves, even smoked sausages from the local meat market. Even though I was very young, I remember explicitly the exact way the packages were to be wrapped: in plain brown paper, tied up with string, a knot at every corner, the address printed in indelible ink in the same space every time. This process went on for many years after the war.
In return we received German chocolates and toys on very special occasions such as Christmas. My sister and I were required to hand-write thank you notes for these very special gifts, and we learned, by Mother standing over us, who each relative was and how to write a thank you note in our very best German.
The years went by quickly, and although we had stopped sending food packages, we still sent gifts at Christmas, and received wonderful things in return. When I graduated from college and was married, my new husband and I borrowed money and traveled to Europe for several weeks. One of our priorities was to visit my numerous German relatives. We did, and were greeted like long-lost relatives and treated like royalty in each of their homes.
Thirteen years later, after my father and his sister had both passed away, we took my mother on the same trip, so she could at last finally meet the people she had so lovingly cared for during the war. It was such an honor to accompany her there, and even though they were her in-laws they welcomed her like the family she was, and we were treated to no end of special dinners and events in our honor.
Now, I have children and grandchildren of my own, and I am working on my family tree. The communication with the German relatives stopped with the passing of my mother many years ago. I never received the family tree from my father's side of the family, which jumps to Germany just two generations back. And everyone in the older generations has passed on, so the addresses I had are no longer current, and there was no one to help me link across the ocean. Was that the end?
Well, enter Facebook.
One day I searched by my maiden name, which is a very unusual, uncommon name. I found a young man in Germany with that last name. And, of all things, he resembled my father. I knew he had to be related. In my very best German (not a thank you note, so I was pretty lost) I wrote the note and asked if he might be related to the people of my father's generation. And clicked Send.
You've guessed the rest by now, dear Reader, I'm sure. He did in fact write back, and he is in fact, the grandson of my Dad's cousin, and could he send me his parent's email address? As you might imagine, this was quite exciting for me. I knew I had to respond.
\Jan translating
I've sent the German note, and received a reply....with the email address and the information that Opa ( my dad's cousin) is healthy and feisty at 98, and there is a 5-page family tree that they will share with me. And I have a new Facebook friend!
I remember when I was a preschooler and my aunt was telling me the story of the relatives my Opa left behind, and of the ocean that separated us. My response was "Kennen wir nicht ein Brett darueber legen?" (can't we lay a board across?)
I think I've found that board. Bridging the ocean, shrinking the world, allowing me to regain contact with family, is the internet. Needless to say, I will stay in touch, and even if I never get to Germany again, I'll preserve the information for my kids, and grandsons.
