Christmas

 

My grandmother did not like children very much
but Christmas was a huge thing for her, and with her,
a gigantic literary carousell  with towers of books stuffed with chocolate  and  funny stuff of music: drumms like those of Basle's drumemrs filled with cake and guz'lles, made of the most delicate dried crocks / rocks of nother Suisse...

But the best part of Christmas for me though was -   between listening to jazz or Hänschen Weiss or old christmas venyls or even the automatic christmas orgue for wandering folks

(I doubt, anybody has a n idea of waht - sic - I am talking about)

The best part of my Christmas was she herself, M.Adam, reading
howering in middle all these paperworks and reading for us some of her chosen favorites
(Iam sure she had done some rehearsals before)
like
The bridesmaidWilliam Goldman

or Th.White, The once and future king

but something must have stopped her  - in the case of
Goldman...and the bride
when it came to  the part  when HE - the Unkown HE said  to  the Bride - who ever she might have been - a kind of sweet bitter words like. "remember me even when they  will torture me  to death I will try to hide in my brain  with the most hidden part of your memory and save myself by doing so..."
This kind of yaw-dropping literary stuff where a child like me will always be unable to tell the difference between lies and fiction.

You don't care, I. know...
Because everything here is a lie, my father would say.
He effectively remenbers having had a very pooor Christmas childhood.
Nothing of my words are true never mind all those books of Stanislas Lem and Tolkien and Mansfield and Michel del Castillo, I really do  posess...


And this picture showing an old school in TROGEN, where later Elisabeth Rotten founded an International guesthouse for  war orphans, refugee's children
but in Trogen, Appenzell, where the grandfather of my grandmother had been a teacher teaching in one of those intern schools for poor labourers and their even poorer orphans. Long before the Second World War existed.
Still today to make up for my shitty english I am relying on those cheap Dickens books someone gave to my grandmother or her mother in law
as a gift to say thank you... Kägi Nägi...Switzerland Vielmals Danke.
Does not seem connected....So apart the man and the bride I cannot connect to anybody more concrete and reliable than a book
is the city of TROGEN. Kanton Außerrhoden.
And the humanitarian aide problem. The International Red Cross
or The connection between

the red Cross
and Tracy Strong and some Jewish Rescue Organisations.
Where things like the Kasztner Transport happened
and I have to be  nowvery careful about the words I will use next because there is something that makes me really angry.

One of my  blind ideas...  Untrue untrue untrue ...aveuglant one of mes idées fixes guiding me with a blind eye
is this crazy debilitating idea relying Spain, the Civil war, France Switzerland, Germany and the land of extermination and the possibility of coming then back from death.
Got already some strong advice not to dwell longer on those kind of absurd nonliterary day-dreamings
about trains  filled with Children or parcels filled with children or music boxes automated by frozen children

this is one oy my Christmas mysteries Christmas stories of my Childhood
nobody every spoke about
But by not speaking about some ..thing... can silence create the most compelling idea in a stupid limited  mind like mine
I doubt anybody is grappling getting what Iam talking about
about those missing children rescued out of nowhere by a train.

and here I have to be very careful about things like the Kasztner Transport
and I have to be very careful by choosing  the words I will use next because there is something that makes me really angry.