A Journey Back In Time

Tags

23 and me, Alberta, ancestors, Calgary, Canada, Diana Schwenk, DNA, family, Germany, growing up, History, Hump Day Chronicles, life, physical traits, Relationships, Vikings

Do you ever wonder where your physical traits come from? I sure do.

I mean I can look at my parents and see where my blue eyes come from and whose teeth I have and so on, but I’ve always wondered about my weird-looking chubby knees that seem to be prevalent on my mom’s side of the family.

‘Unique knees,’ an old boyfriend tactfully called them once.

“They look like they bend backwards when you’re standing, like you’re double-jointed,” my friend Helga once said.

Outside of mom’s family, I have never seen anyone with legs like mine. Well once I did. I was in the Dominican Republic with Mom and there was a family there; a mom and dad with two teenagers and they ALL had legs like mine! They were from Norway or Finland or Iceland or something.

They were tall, blond, blue-eyed and looked like Vikings! But it was their legs that caught my attention!

Look Mom! They have legs like us!

Are they the descendants of Vikings, I wondered? Am I a descendant of Vikings? It would sure explain a lot about parts of my personality!

I know my grandmother’s family came from Sweden, so maybe, right? Anyway, I got it in my head that I’m a Viking ever since I saw that family in the DR.

So I finally broke down and ordered a DNA kit from 23 and me.

What’s your best guess on my ethnicity?

I can’t wait to find out if I’m a Viking or not.

And I will keep you posted!

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Have you ever sent away for a DNA kit? Do you know where your ancestors came from? If so, let me know in the comment section!

Related article

Advertisement

I Get That Now

Tags

Berlin, Dad, death, Diana Schwenk, family, Father, Germany, grief, growing up, Heinz Schwenk, Hump Day Chronicles, life, Life's like that, love, memories, Opa, parents, Relationships, stories

Opa, 66, with his Daschund (Cherry) in 1973.

Opa (my paternal grandfather) became a father at 27 years old when Dad was born on June 28, 1934.

Born in 1907, Opa lived through two world wars and the depression. Over the years, Dad told me many stories of his childhood growing up in Berlin, Germany.

Like the time he stole a horse from the Russians so that his family and neighbours could eat meat.

And the time he and his teenaged buddies lifted a Volkswagen over the owners fenced-in yard with a small gate – too small to drive a car through!

But I know very little about Opa. I know that he was raised by his aunt, and that he may not have known some of his siblings.

And once when Dad was in elementary school, he wet his pants in class because the teacher wouldn’t let him go to the bathroom. Opa went to the school the next day to talk to the teacher. Dad never knew what Opa had said, but the teacher told Dad that day that if he ever needed to go to the bathroom, he had permission to just go, didn’t even have to raise his hand to ask.

I know that Opa was athletic and participated in track and field. I know from our visits to Germany as a family, that Opa struggled with alcohol and by the time he was a senior, a half bottle of beer was enough to do him in. Yet even at a ripe old age, Opa could still walk up the stairs on his hands.

Opa passed away on June 28, 1987 (My Dad’s 53rd birthday). Opa had suffered a stroke on a Thursday. Dad booked the earliest flight he could get but unfortunately Opa passed away around the same time Dad’s plane landed in Berlin that Sunday.

I remember when Dad phoned to tell me Opa was dead. He was so calm on the phone, so matter-of-fact. I, on the other hand, burst into tears. Dad tried to console me. When I composed myself, it dawned on me to ask Dad how he was doing and comment on how awful it must be that his father died on his birthday. “I’m fine. Everyone dies eventually Diana. I’m ok.”

On June 28, 2012, I happened to be back east at my parent’s place for Dad’s 78th Birthday. We were talking about this and that when suddenly out of nowhere, Dad with glistening eyes said, “It’s 25 years ago today that my father died.”

I touched Dad’s arm.

What could I say?

Maybe you never quite get over the death of your father.

I get that now.

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

 

Happy 77th Birthday Mom!

Tags

Berlin, Birthday, Canada, children, family, Germany, growing up, happy, joy, kids, laughter, life, Life's like that, living in the moment, love, memories, Mom, parents, Relationships, Stuff my parents used to say and do

Mom as a little girl with her mother

The oldest of six children, mom was born in Berlin, Germany the year WWII started.

Not an ideal childhood, but there were those special moments with her favourite grandparents, those rare moments where she could enjoy a piece of chocolate and the hospital stays that made her want to be a nurse.

And then the family years. Getting married. Having children of her own. Making a new and better life in Canada.

I have many memories growing up, like when Mom would tear around the house looking for her rat tail comb so she could finish setting her hair in rollers; all the while the comb was safely fixed in between the rows of curlers on her head.

Or how she’d barely be in the door after work and we’d all be like, “what’s for supper?” She’d sing to us, with us, read to us, take care of us when we were sick, threaten us with the wooden spoon to make us eat porridge, bake a cake every Sunday and feed it to us for breakfast with a vitamin.

And oh those cleaning days on Saturday, stripping, washing and waxing the floor, dragging the mattresses downstairs and beating them on the balcony, vacuuming, dusting, filling the sink with water to wash all the knick  knacks, washing the laundry in the wringer washing machine and hanging the laundry on the line – cleaning day was like boot camp!

Waiting up for me when I came home past curfew; lights flicking on blinding me, asking where I’ve been, why I was late, did I have any idea how worried she’d been? what was I thinking? Never mind, just get to bed! And by the way, you’re grounded for the summer – which never really panned out because grounding me meant I’d be around all the time and I was quite the pain in the ass!

Cooking our favourite meal, making our favourite cake on our birthdays, always motivated by wanting to be the kind of mother she had wanted to have as a child.

Wish I could cook for you today Mom. Wish I could bake your favourite cake. Wish we didn’t live so far apart.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Happy Birthday Mom. I know you don’t feel like celebrating and I understand. But you are worth celebrating. I am grateful for you and I hope you have some moments of joy today.

With love, Diana

Once Upon A Time – The Story of My Life

Tags

Alberta, brother, Calgary, Canada, children, Dad, Diana Schwenk, family, Germany, growing up, humour, Hump Day Chronicles, life, memories, Mom, parents, Relationships, stories

Long, long ago in a land called Germany

ONCE UPON A TIME, LONG, LONG AGO in a land called Germany, a boy and girl fell in love and married. The newly weds travelled by ship across the great ocean to start a family in a foreign land called Canada.

And then a lollipop- sucking son to complete the family.

The daughter and son loved each other very much in spite of the sword play at 2:14PM. Don’t believe me? Click on the photo to enlarge it.

From bonding over lollipops, the daughter and son learned sword play and other things and thrived in the new land across the great ocean.

Then lots of other stuff happened.

The children grew up and left the nest.

The son stayed in the area and the daughter travelled thousands of miles across the country to make a life in the west.

More time passed and the family made many visits back and forth to maintain their ties.

The son had a son. The daughter had a daughter.

By now you have guessed that I am the daughter of the boy and girl who married long, long ago in the land called Germany and travelled by ship across the great ocean to start a family.

And the early part of my story with my daughter, Michaela continues below on one of our visits back home across the great land.

Playing piano at Oma and Opa’s house

Sitting on a rock in the woods with Opa

Sitting on a log in the woods with Oma

Oh how Oma and Opa loved when Michaela played piano, they could hardly wait for her to wake up and play it again. And Oma and Opa and Michaela and Max, the white dog, enjoyed walks in the woods and sitting on rocks and logs.

And back out west our lives carried on and Michaela asked many questions and thought deeply about the mysteries of life.

Michaela stares into the distance pondering the meaning of life at the Bow River

There’s got to be more to life than riding the horsey…

maybe it’s all about being cool. I look cool like this, right?

Haha I gotcha! I’ll just be myself.

I’ll just hang out with Mommy for now, and figure out life another day

Playing Hop Scotch in Calgary, Alberta

And the story continues and lots of other stuff still happens on the west side of the great land that lays across the great ocean by the land called Germany where long, long ago a boy and girl fell in love and were married.

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

What’s your story?

Happy Mother’s Day…

Tags

Achtung sie verlassen jetzt West Berlin, band-aid, Canada, Diana Schwenk, family, Germany, humour, Hump Day Chronicles, kissing bobos, love, memories, Mom had sex with Dad, Mother's Day, parents, scraped knee

…or should I say, thanks Mom for having sex with Dad?

But wait – I’m getting ahead of myself here…

A few days before Christmas back in ’38,  little Margot was born in Germany  to Ruth and Fritz. The first of six children born during, and post World War II, little Margot did not have an easy life. But my brother Michael and I are so glad she came to be; in spite of the gross and disturbing act she would later commit with Heinz.

I’ll get to that later.

In ’59  the not-so-little-anymore Margot  married Heinz…

My parents on their wedding day in Berlin, Germany  (a photo of a photo)

…and one year later they immigrated, or as we like to say in our family  (ACHTUNG – SIE VERLASSEN JETZT WEST BERLIN)  to Montreal, Quebec, Canada  with twenty odd bucks in their pocket to start a new life as Canadians eh.

Below is what they looked like as Canadians.

Sometime in the spring, around May of ‘62,  Margot had sex with Heinz and this somewhat disturbing act (at least to me, I’m sure they liked it alright)  led to the birth of little Diana (me)  on Valentine’s Day back in ’63.

Yup, that’s right, I’m a LOVE child!

Ever since that day Margot  has been known as Mom,  therefore she is qualified to be the beneficiary of Mother’s Day greetings.  You would think Margot A.K.A Mom  had learned her lesson. But no, she had sex with Heinz A.K.A Dad AGAIN  in the fall, around September of ‘63!  Doubly  disturbing (both to Michael and I, I’m sure they liked it alright – why else would they do it AGAIN?!!)  As a result, in June of ‘64  on a not-so-notable  day, (as in not Valentine’s Day or Easter or even Groundhog Day)  Michael was born, wrecking all possibilities for Diana to grow up in a pampered  and spoiled  way, like a princess  who is continually catered to  and pampered (oh I already said pampered – it’s still a raw subject for me)

Ohh-h but don’t you worry I got my revenge by giving Mom many a I-can’t-believe-anyone-in-their-right-mind-would-eat-that  Mother’s Day breakfasts in bed and hordes of macaroni art.  In later years my always-tough-you-can’t-get-me-to-break  Dad couldn’t just stand by and witness these things anymore, so he began the annual hey-it’s-Mother’s Day-we’re-going-out-to-the-Chinese-restaurant-day  tradition.

Anyway, what I really want to say is Happy Mother’s Day Mom!

Thanks for all the times you were there for us.

Thanks for every band-aid on every scraped knee.

For every bobo you kissed.

For teaching us how to clean our rooms every freakin’ Saturday over and over and over again until we got it right.

I love you!

Diana

My parents in the Olivia Newton John and John Travolta phase

The Happy Couple

Mom and Dad enjoying dinner in Montreal

Mom sitting on the washing machine during the rinse cycle – Don’t ask!

Mom during our trip to the Dominican Republic

Dad and Mom at their 50th Anniversary party

My daughter Michaela with Oma (Mom)

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

p.s. I googled kissing bobos as I wasn’t sure on the spelling

and it suggested kissing boobs

which I chose to totally disregard.

The Rest of the Story

Tags

Diana Schwenk, family, Germany, growing up, Hump Day Chronicles, memories, question, Russia, youth leadership

A few days ago I received an email from my uncle.

He told me that after a long while he checked in on facebook where he read my post Brotchen and Beer.

It gave him joy that somebody still thought about his dad (my Opa) every now and then.

L to R My great-uncle Waldemar and my Opa

My uncle said even when Opa was 60, he would still put a little money in my uncle’s pocket.

That reminds me of my dad who always, to this day, puts a little money in my pocket every time I see him.

He gets that from his dad, I guess.

When I wrote Brotchen and Beer I was looking around for a CD my uncle sent me a few years ago that has old family pictures.

My search proved unsuccessful amid hundreds of unlabeled CDs in my desk – a project for a future day!

As luck would have it my uncle included this picture of Opa in his younger years with his Brother-in-law, Waldemar in his email.

The email went on to say that Waldemar, my Oma’s brother, was shot in Russia many years ago, most likely by the SS but that that was a whole other story – one that I hope to hear one day.

After replying to my uncle’s email, he sent me another picture of me and him. I’m 17 years old in this picture and my uncle would be in his early 30’s.

The year is 1980 and my parents gifted me a trip to Germany as a graduation present.

Me and my uncle in my grandparent’s backyard

In this picture my uncle and I are sitting in my paternal grandparents’ backyard.

I love my hair in this photo – NOT – but one of my maternal uncles, a stylist, would give me the most god-awful perm in the next few days!

I have to admit that my uncle’s shirt brings a smile to my face!

Ahh-h the late 70s and early 80s brought a whole new meaning to fashion!

Sometimes I wish I had a scanner because I do have so many pictures I’d love to share with you of my childhood and my daughter’s childhood – maybe one day. 🙂

~

On another note…

I haven’t had much success in receiving responses to this post. My heart-felt thanks to those who did respond – it’s much appreciated!

I am listing the questions one more time just in case it might generate more responses. If not, I’ll let it go – I promise!

Who knows, it could just be that I am more anxious to know than others (who are 25 and younger) are eager to tell.

Or maybe, just maybe, it is not my story to tell.

If this is the case, perhaps these questions can act as a prompt for you to write your thoughts, in your own words, in your own post.

~ QUESTIONS ~

What do you think is the world’s biggest issue or problem? (describe it)

What do you think needs to be done to solve this issue or problem?/What are you willing to do?

Do you think it will be solved in your lifetime? Why or why not?

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

It’s interesting how some traits like my Opa giving my uncle pocket-money translate to the next generation…

like my dad still giving me pocket-money…

Are there generational practices or habits in your family?

What are they?