On a lazy summer day, at the Washington International Airport, dad and I anxiously boarded the airplane that would take us to Germany, but unfortunately unbeknown to us, we were about to begin a miserable four hours of confinement on a huge jumbo jet that wouldn’t be taking off because of air conditioning problems. No one is allowed to get off the plane! The pilot announced. We were told that if we didn’t leave by 9 p.m. that night, we wouldn’t be leaving until the next morning. Thankfully, at some godforsaken hour, we finally lifted off with the air conditioning finally cooling our impatient spirits. 

During the flight we experienced a lot of turbulence and everyone had to sit down. Low and behold, I was suddenly about to experience one of dad’s obsessions, it was a riot! The stewardess had asked him to hold her liquor cart during the emergency. Well, dad gladly obliged, he was more than happy to help; he saw his chance, and right before my eyes he began taking numerous, tiny liquor bottles right out of the cart. I couldn’t believe it, but knowing the stories of his past, I was touched by his obsession to take or steal, that having been ingrained in him from his days in the labor camps. We didn’t drink the little bottles on the plane; we saved them for later, consuming the liquor while enjoying the story of my dad’s natural impulses.

After we arrived in Frankfurt, a day later, I immediately went to call Jenny; she needed to know that we wouldn’t be getting to Dresden at the pre-arranged time. Hearing my voice she became instantly excited expecting us to have arrived—they were going to meet us at the airport. I was tired, exhausted, and a little overwhelmed. I couldn’t speak German but somehow managed to get the message across to her. At the Frankfurt terminal, we immediately re-arrange our flight to Dresden. Happily seated next to my dad, as our flight to Dresden embarked, I thought of my mom. This trip was bitter sweet for us both. Dad’s sister, Jenny, was about to celebrate her seventy-firth birthday, and my mom, who suffered with knee problems, hadn’t been able to travel with dad. I enthusiastically took her place. The flight went smoothly and although we were late, there was Jenny, with her son Juergen and his wife, waiting our arrival holding a bottle of champagne to celebrate. 

My dad finally got to see his sister after forty-four years! It was very emotional for us, we were all so very happy—we hugged, laughed and cried. Over the days that followed we shared memories catching up on life during the many lost years. Jenny (Eugenia Thoricht/Schroder) is my dad’s sister, and Juergen Schroder is her son. Jenny didn’t speak any English, Juergen could speak broken English and I was able to communicate a little with him.  We also got to meet Juergen’s family, which included his wife Renate and their two sons, Andree and Tino.  On our trip, another treat was the food; we got to eat good German food, which was wonderful. I loved the experience of being able to buy fresh herring sandwiches from vendors right on the street.

We would hang out with Jenny, Juergen and his family, enjoying cookouts and talking about everything and everyone, we had so much fun. One thing that I found strange was that their dinners would always start with desert and champagne, I soon got used to that.  We would drink beer, play games, match up with ping-pong games, and travel the town sightseeing, enjoying the stores and museums. Even after almost fifty years, buildings in Dresden were still in the process of being resurrected from the war bombings.

My dad and I left Jenny and Juergen for two days and took the train from Dresden, to Stuttgart, and then onto Backnang. Dad wanted to go back to the town where he lived before he took the boat to the United States—we traveled from East Germany to West Germany. Dad was anxious to see if he could find anyone he knew when he had lived there. But, after arriving in Backnang, he found that the town no longer looked the same, it had all changed and been modernized, but he still insisted on finding where he used to play cards. It was a place called the “Rathaus”, and to his dismay nothing of city was recognizable. But for me, on the other hand, I liked being in West Germany most people spoke English, and I was able to communicate in a foreign country. In East Germany, if I wandered out to the store, I had to rely on my instincts to get back home—not being able to speak German prevented me from asking directions.

When dad walked around the town remembering his past, it made him very depressed—he suddenly became unhappy and sad. He wanted to get back on the train and go home, but I quickly talked him out of it, convincing him that we should stay in a hotel overnight, which we did.

The next morning, I got to experience another funny incident of my dad taking things. When we went down to breakfast, the hotel offered a magnificent buffet. There were a variety of breads, assorted meats and every kind of cheese imaginable spread out on a long table for guests to help themselves. Immediately, and to my horror, my dad started taking/stealing the food. Standing next to me and right before my eyes, he would wrap different bread, meat and cheese in napkins, and then stuff them in his pockets. I couldn’t help but to smile—another moment to fold away. During the long train ride back to Dresden my dad pulled out the stolen food he had stuffed in his pockets, and together we shared a very special feast. I really enjoyed the liverwurst sandwich, and to this very day I still remember how good that sandwich tasted!

Our trip soon came to a close and we said our goodbyes, our hearts were filled with lots of memories of a wonderful trip, and a happy family reunion.  On the flight back, once we got to Frankfurt, I was again faced with more drama—not being able to speak German, and knowing that the shuttle to the terminal was twenty minutes late, I couldn’t get anyone to help me. We needed to hurry, I didn't want to spend six hours stuck in the Frankfort airport, or worse yet, overnight. I decided that we would do it on foot—I needed my dad to run! He did, and I remember fearing that it might give him a heart attack. We finally made it to the gate, but they had closed the plane door and would not let us board. I was in a flap, but not dad, when I turned around there he was calmly sitting with a circle of Russian’s telling them all about his life in their country, they were discussing different machines that were made in Russia. I was dumbfounded, there was my dad, fifty years later, sitting with a group of Russian men, not feeling any animosity after all they had done to him. I smiled knowing that it’s time that makes all this possible.

We didn't know it, but there had been another flight scheduled to the States. We finally got on that plane an hour later. We arrived safely in Washington, DC. But dad still had another flight to get him home to Florida. I organized everything and left him there, but no sooner had I arrived home, I got a call. Dad had missed his plane. Well, my wonderful, sometimes forgetful, dad ended up spending the night with me while his luggage was happily on its way to Florida.

*Written by Samantha Elphick as told to her by Heidi Thoricht