Randy Ford Author- Revised INFLATION, DEFLATION, WAR! 71st Installment

As the family spent more time together, they spent more time in the Vienna Woods, where Pauline always looked for fawns, satyrs, and wolves. She loved the woods. She had gone there since her childhood. She loved the exercise and the fresh air, hearing the birds, the various calls, and it always brought to mind the happy harmonies of the “Tale of the Vienna Woods.” She loved the cartoon and watched it over and over again; only now it seemed unpatriotic to watch it. The thought of a satyr saving a fawn always delighted her. The thought now of the satyr reaching the fawn in time to save her from the wolves somehow seemed less likely, and it pained her. That was why she took her boys to the woods to look for fawns. But she didn’t want to seem panicky.

They still went to cultural events at the Hofburg, to the opera house, and the concert hall, and she loved to dress up. She still got all excited about the pomp, the fancy dresses and the tails and the refinery that went with the Opera Ball. But Fritz thought he couldn’t dance because of his leg. He was a drinker and would’ve preferred drinking all night in a less formal setting such as the Grinzing.

And if the truth were told, they never regained what they once had. Pauline felt that she was getting nowhere in her effort to change him. He could never match Frederick, and perhaps it was unfair of her to compare the two. But for a while there they were able to fool themselves. For a while there Pauline was able to drag her husband along whenever she decided she to go out in the evening. It was a concession he made. It was a small one considering what was at stake, and they all knew what was at stake. It was not a time for promiscuity. He knew that he had to toe the line. Yes, too much was at stake, and appearances mattered. He could lose everything and knew it. It was a wretched position to be in … to have to be on guard all the time. It got on his nerves. The boys were almost grown then. Though she wasn’t needed, Eva still lived with them, and she found that she had time on her hands, too much time and spent much of time walking around Vienna, though it was risky for her. At the same time Fritz drank more. That was when he began to lash out at everyone. Fritz’s work with the court doubled during this period, and there were times when he didn’t come home until late at night. He was still well regarded. He knew how to get along and was very efficient. He had always been like that, but it was more important now. But it was getting to him, since he was asked to rubberstamp the deportation of people like Eva. That was the main reason he drank so much.

Pauline never confronted Fritz about his drinking because she knew what he was going through. For her it was a form of revenge. His weakness made her feel strong. One afternoon she came back with the boys from a hike in the Vienna Woods and found him drunk on the sofa. The boys simply accepted it while Pauline knew that there was something terribly wrong. Now she had to be careful. She didn’t want to set him off. She didn’t want to ask him too many questions but was afraid that he’d been sacked or something worse. What could be worse? Then she decided to say nothing and allow him to tell her what the problem was. He never did.

For years he dreamt of becoming a judge because being a judge meant less pressure. He’d been passed over before. Now he was passed over again and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He bought himself several bottles of wine and finished two of them before Pauline and boys came home. The courts were a sham, the times were uncertain, and he didn’t know if he wanted to be a part of it any longer. He’d been through these moods and stresses before and had always gotten through them, but what bothered him more than anything else was that he didn’t have a choice. His life was being decided for him.

This was why he came home early and drank himself silly. He knew that he couldn’t quit, knew he was stuck, and that their lives depended on it. But he decided to keep his family out of it. For their safety he compartmentalized his life, and he wanted to keep it that way. This wasn’t new because since the war they’d lived separate lives. And this included their sexual lives, and in some oblique way it was all tied together. Pauline could see disappointment and strain on his face. She thought that she could read him but never knew that he was jealous of her lovers. Now she was jealous because she wanted to know what was bothering him and he wouldn’t tell her. And thinking about all the times that she had withheld something from him, she felt weak and helpless rather than strong. .

He was now a part of the brutality of the Nazis. He knew more than he ever let on, and that was why he shielded his family, which left open what to do about Eva. Pictures of deportation played in his head whenever he saw her. Their love-making became more hurried and less frequent since Pauline was spending more time at home and he was the one who was rarely home in the evening. Fritz would say, “The chickens have come home to roost.” Or he wouldn’t say anything. And perhaps even then he knew that things would never be the same again and had already begun to make contingency plans if they were forced to leave Austria. And he thought that he’d send his oldest son first.

Randy Ford

Randy Ford Author- Revised INFLATION, DEFLATION, WAR! 52nd Installment

She used to worry about what people thought of her. She always wanted to make a good impression. But she knew that she couldn’t keep it up, and that was especially true after she went to work at the Obdachlosenhein. She also knew that members of her family would be the first to disapprove of her. She wouldn’t have gone to work there had Fritz not gone to war. She wouldn’t have had the freedom and wouldn’t have met the people responsible for her conversion to socialism. But this wasn’t the tipping point. She’d always had a rebellious streak, and no one could dispute it. Fritiz had seen it, and he later tried to put himself in her place. He tried to imagine what it was like to be abandoned for as long as she had been and quickly realized that he might’ve “strayed” too. He had his own indiscretions to contend with, his dark side. It gave him a different perspective than he would’ve had otherwise. Though it wasn’t something he was proud of, it was something that wouldn’t surprise anyone. To keep a mistress was pretty common, and it was known that many men had more than one household since there was a shortage of men. They however generally managed to juggle everything, with two women and in some cases two families; it was generally easier for them than what Pauline faced.

One day, when she went shopping with Eva, she began to talk about the men in her life. They were having lunch in a café, and no one could hear them because the place was packed. Eva expected to hear something about Fritz, about some things that were going wrong in the their marriage, or some juicy gossip…that sort of thing. She didn’t hear a thing about Fritz. It seemed as if Fritz didn’t exist. Eva was surprisingly supportive. In this regard Pauline thought she was blessed. Eva actually knew more about Pauline’s marriage than she did, and it was the first time that they had talked in this way. They’d had the opportunity before but simply hadn’t done it. If Eva had been in Pauline’s shoes she would’ve settled for a conventional marriage. The constraints wouldn’t have bothered her. She would’ve married Fritz in a heartbeat. Without thinking, she said, “We can’t have everything.” When Pauline asked why, she said, “It doesn’t work that way.” Pauline had just chronicled her various romantic relationships without naming names and wasn’t quite sure why she did it. Eva felt like saying, “You can’t do that when you’re married” but restrained herself. Normally an employer wouldn’t confide in an employee in this manner, and it felt awkward. Still Eva felt excited about it, as the two women picked their way through what could’ve been a very thorny conversation. And Pauline saw that Eva had greater insight than a household servant normally would, while she knew her husband and that he was attracted to Eva. She even suspected that they were having an affair and because of it she looked at Eva with new respect. It was even liberating, though she had grown tired of the complications.

She never liked to play charades. She knew that hard feelings would come along the way. She didn’t want any and was determined not to have any. But some things were inevitable, some things were better left unsaid, and she knew it. Sometimes people couldn’t help themselves. Unfortunately thorns hurt.

In the beginning the life she lived had been an adventure. Sometimes it was a struggle. Otherwise she didn’t see anything wrong with it. And for a while it seemed like her new destiny would work for her: the freedom, the chance to be a well-rounded human being, and not having to be either a lady or a tramp. She didn’t have to chose between a career and a life centered round her husband. At the same time it was still very new and wasn’t accepted by everybody. Conventional marriages hadn’t yet become an artifact of a bygone age. Perhaps it never would. Perhaps there would always be tradeoffs. Pauline knew one think: it was better to have an intellectual match than the constraints of a conventional marriage.

Like it or not, she was still a mother and like so many women she had difficulty reconciling that with who she wanted to be. She was nervous about leaving the boys with Eva at first. She didn’t want to get that look from other people that she knew she’d get. But if she was going to fulfil her destiny she didn’t have a choice. Like was said before, she had the most trouble with her family. There they didn’t want to accept the person that she’d become. They seemed to think that she was headed for ruin. They seemed to think that she should be ashamed of herself. So because of that “working all the time” liberated her. Of course, she didn’t work all the time.

Sometimes on Sundays she and Frederick went to the Vienna woods and hiked their favorite trails, and sometimes afterwards went to their favorite tavern in Grinzing where they would drink and sing.

She often thought back to the afternoon when she posed nude in the woods for Frederick…that picture of her sitting on a log with her hair hanging down over her breasts…and knew that she looked beautiful. Then why did Frederick say he liked ugly nudes? She wondered if Frederick would prefer it if she looked and acted like a whore and worried that that might be how he viewed her. Why did he prefer ugly nudes? She wondered, “Am I ugly?” How could he hate women when he loved her? Maybe he only hated some women.

Randy Ford

Randy Ford Author- Revised INFLATION, DEFLATION, WAR! 23rd Installment

Herr Lippert said one day, “I’m going to take Pauline out.” He didn’t know that Frederick had been thinking the same thing. “I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, Frederick, but she seems to fancy me.”

Frederick thought she fancied him more and felt jealous, especially because for the first time in his life he didn’t feel confident, so he said, “I wish you luck.”

Herr Lippert then asked, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

And Frederick couldn’t admit that he didn’t have one. “Of course I do.

“And what is her name? I might know her.”

“I don’t think you do.”

Herr Lippert never got her name out of him. And later, during the same conversation, he asked, “And what does your girlfriend do?”

“She ‘s a middle-class flapper, who doesn’t need to work but does. She works as a shop assistant, engages in sports, goes dancing, wears makeup, and is very sexy. I met her in the Grinzing, sipping new wine.”

A new woman sipping new wine at the Grinzing: the image intoxicated Herr Lippert. He realized that the woman Frederick was talking about could’ve been Pauline, except Pauline was a social worker and married.

“She seduced me the first time we went out.”

“A whore!”

“No, no, she’s a new, liberated woman.”

Herr Lippert was envious, but he decided not to show it. Instead he said, “Free love is not without risks.”

“I know. I know. We talked about it. We were careful and practiced withdrawal. It takes great restraint.”

“And you exercised it.”

“Of course.”

They went by tram to the Grinzing. That was where, several months before, Frederick met Bridget and had the adventure he talked about. It was what he also had in mind when he and Pauline made their way into a small courtyard garden where they could relax with either coffee or wine. The vintners’s house advertised new Heuringer, and Pauline was anxious to try some. It was a good sign, as for as Herr Lippert was concerned. The owner of the house told them that he had the best Heuringer in Grinzing, and it would’ve been hard to disagree with him. They both chose wine. Herr Lippert felt inspired, not so much by Pauline…she seemed distracted for some reason …but by what he envisioned happening after dinner when he had her alone in his flat. Herr Lippert ordered a bottle of wine, knowing that one bottle wouldn’t be enough, and they sat and drank and talked while they waited for their dinner.

Herr Lippert said, “I hope we can be very honest. We’re living in a new age, which requires new thinking, especially in a place like Vienna where people like us are…”

“Are what?”

“I’ve looked forward to this day for a very long time.”

“We haven’t known each other for very long.”

“That’s true, but…I thought from the first day that I saw you…”

“Didn’t you start this conversation out by saying that you hope that we can be very honest. Herr Lippert, you’re a dangerous young man. First you try to disarm me. Then you behave typically.”

Herr Lippert said, “This is all new for me, but you were aware of it, weren’t you?”

Randy Ford

Randy Ford Author- GOOD PEOPLE 3rd Novel 65th Installment

      Judge Musil came out of his chambers and asked Fritz to accompany him on his walk in the Volksgarten.  “It’s all right to follow a routine,” he said, “but between you and me, the enemy can’t keep us from enjoying our great city.  Wien, Wien, they can bomb the hell out of us, but still…  I’d like to be back in Grinzing again, with wine, wine, wining…  So jump up!  Herr Hertzl, come!  Let’s go to the park!”

      Fritz grew nervous, and if he could’ve would’ve found an excuse for not going.  Since the judge wouldn’t have accepted no he begged for time to get his coat.  Old Judge Musil shook his head and in a harsh and contemptuous tone asked, “Fritz, my man, since when have you needed a coat in autumn?”

      Fritz instantly drew back but within a few seconds was ready to go.  With his overcoat under his arm he followed the judge out of the courthouse.

      The old judge took giant steps in a vain attempt to regain something he’d lost and struggled equally in vain to be in good spirits.  Fritz also felt sad and agitated while he followed his boss as if dreaming.  He remembered what the judge said that made him feel extremely uncomfortable and how shortly afterward Eva was taken away.  “Was it possible,” he asked himself, “that he also had been exposed?”  He often thought of that was possible.  He had to remind himself of how lucky he’d been.

      The Ring had been a visible symbol of the dignity, the power, and the wealth of the empire, but by now many of the great buildings had been turn to rubble.  This added to Fritz’s distress.  For instance the only parts of the Opera House that still stood were the staircase and the foyer.  As he surveyed the destruction, Fritz thought, “It’s a pity.”  Then filled with self-pity he quickly turned his gaze to the ground.  Walking along the Ring with his boss, as if in a dream, toward the huge building of the war department, with its gray facade adorned with colossal ancient helmets, which was hard to pass by without emotion, Fritz realized that they weren’t heading toward the Volksgarten.  Both men firsthand knew the burden of having to make life and death decisions.  After the war each would proclaim their innocence and aver that they only were following orders.  During the war leniency, on their part, would’ve been a sign of weakness; and they couldn’t afford to show any.  It was clear that the judge had Fritz where he wanted him.  Fritz never hesitated; and it seemed as if for him his position was not just a job but a passion.

      Fritz returned to the Grinzing, where the whore in the wine garden never got tired of his praises.  “With such beauty,” said he, “it seems ridiculous that you were ever happy, but in keeping with the times we’re sometimes obligated to be more critical than is necessary.  The self can’t be salvaged, so enjoy yourself while you can.  Yonder sits G. and K. with wineglasses in their hands; stare and wave for they’re very famous.”

      “O no, not that, not that, for God’s sake Herr Hertzl!” cried the whore.  “Don’t wave or draw attention to us. Herr Hertzl, last night I dreamed that I was a famous actress and Hitler put a ring on my finger.  Then you came, and in a moment everything in the dream was gone.”

      In response Fritz pushed back his chair, which he’d just pulled up to be near her; but she still managed to laugh.

      “So what?” she asked.  “So I’m not a superwoman or a German.  That means I’d never suit Hitler.  Courage Herr Hertzl, courage!  Or maybe you should sit over there next to G. and K.”

      “No, it’s not that.  It’s not that at all,” said Fritz, “but the times have made me bitter and hard.”

      “Well, then,” said the whore, “if that’s all, why bitch?  Be dicey!  And paint the town red!”

      Her words chilled him.

      At the same instant, and with great satisfaction, the whore slit her throat with a Wiener schnitzel knife.

      Thinking at first that she was acting Fritz said, “Strange girl!”  But that changed when he saw a stream of blood and her face plopped onto the table.  He watched the paleness of death come over the whore and a particular sort of shivering shook him to the tip of his toes.  “What did you do?” Fritz then asked, as he reached for his handkerchief.

      Then a waiter standing nearby asked, “What will the lady have?  Or will it be nothing as usual?”

      Angrily Fritz jumped the waiter and slammed his head into the table. “Damn the man-who-opens-the-coffin-lid!” he cried.  “And don’t expect a tip.”

      Fritz had no more strength left, as he sank to the floor close to the bleeding waiter.  Then the pay-waiter and the flower-woman tried in vain to save the whore’s life.  Wasn’t it too bad that they weren’t all acting?

      Pauline had to bury Fritz in Paraguay, while he never got over the death of his whore.  Pauline soon followed her husband to the grave.  That left their youngest son, Nikki, to die alone in the family’s flat.

      For more than twenty years the Karl Hertzl family lived in Fredericksburg and was generally respected for their integrity and piety.  Its elder, the Rev. Karl Hertzl, only once returned to his native land and to his credit lived in Texas and served the Lord for most of his later life.  The key to his success was his allegiance to the state of Texas, without which he would never have been accepted.

      The record showed that he ministered to only one congregation.  Indeed as many would affirm, he was a righteous man.  There were those who remembered his first sermon and who also were there the day he retired in 1978.  He’d just been diagnosed with cancer, a disease that defined his later years.

      As a public figure that people loved he carried a secret that would’ve made him unpopular.  Having come after the war from Austria or Germany, he had to overcome a high degree of prejudice.  It was thought that he might’ve been running from something.  To his most critical critics most likely he’d been a Nazi.

      In vain some people looked for clues to the Lutheran minister’s past. At times the curiosity of the whole town was directed at him.  Except for Marie, nobody discovered the truth, that there were secrets inside her father’s facade of integrity and piety.  She discovered that the door to the past, though not open, had always been unlocked.  At the time that she made her discovery Marie had just come home from the mission field.

      After that the young woman lived with well-deserved bouts of depression and disillusionment.  Every day her father grew more and more fretful.  Upon her return Marie was shocked to find that he had lost touch with reality.  By then he spent his days in a rocking chair.

      One evening she found his door open and his bed and rocking chair empty.  Looking around she observed her father in the middle of deep thought.  It wasn’t a good time for him.

      She asked him, “How could they?”

      He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t understood her.  Finally he said, “We don’t have any excuses.”

      Randy Ford

Randy Ford Author- GOOD PEOPLE 3rd Novel 31st Installment

      Judge Musil came out of his chambers and asked Fritz to accompany him on his walk in the Volksgarten.  “It’s important to follow a routine,” he said, “and between you and me the Allies can’t keep us from enjoying our great city.  Wien, Wien, ah Wien!  They can bomb the hell out of us, but still we’d go to the Grinzing and drink wine, wine, wining wine.  So jump up!  Herr Herztl, let’s go!”

      Fritz grew nervous.  If he could’ve, he would’ve found an excuse for not going.  Since the judge wouldn’t have accepted no, he begged at least to be allowed to get his coat.  Old Judge Musil impatiently shook his head and contemptuously asked, “Fritz, since when have you needed a coat in the fall?”

      Fritz drew back, but within seconds was ready to go.  With his overcoat under his arm, he followed the judge out of the building.

      The old judge took giant steps in a vain attempt to regain something he lost.  It was equally hard to be in good spirits.  Fritz also felt sad, while he followed his boss as if he were dreaming.  He remembered what the judge said that made him feel extremely uncomfortable and how shortly afterwards Eva was detained.  “Was it possible,” he asked himself, “that he also had been exposed?”  He often thought about that.  He reminded himself of how lucky he was.

      “The Ring” had been a symbol of the dignity, the power and the wealth of the empire, but by then many of the great buildings had been turn into rubble.  This added to Fritz’s distress.  For instance, the only parts of the Opera House that still stood were the staircase and the foyer.  As he surveyed the destruction, Fritz thought, “It’s a pity.”  Then he looked down because he didn’t want to see anymore.

      Walking along the Ring with his boss, as if in a dream, towards the war office building, with its gray facade adorned with colossal ancient helmets, it was hard to pass by it without emotion.  Soon he realized that they weren’t heading toward the Volksgarten.

      Both men knew first hand the burden of having to make life and death decisions.  After the war each of them would maintain their innocence and say that they only were following orders.  But leniency, on their part, would’ve been a sign of weakness; and they couldn’t afford to show any weaknesses.  It was clear that the judge had Fritz where he wanted him, which was indicative by the way that the latter never showed any mercy.  Fritz never hesitated; and it seemed as if for him his position was not just a job but a passion.

      Fritz often returned to the Grinzing, where a whore in the Heuriger wine garden never tired of his praises.  “With such beauty,” he said, “it seems ridiculous that she’d ever be unhappy; but in keeping with the times, we’re often obligated to be more critical than is absolutely necessary.  The self cannot be salvaged, so enjoy yourself while you can.  Yonder sits G. and K. with wineglasses in their hands; stare and wave, because they’re very famous.”

      “O no, not that, not that, for God’s sake, Herr Herzl!” cried the whore, while she struggled with her self-consciousness.  “Wave not, or draw attention to us. Herr Herztl, last night I dreamed that I was a famous actress; and Hitler put a ring on my finger.  Then you came along, and within a moment everything that used to be was no longer.”

      With that Fritz pushed back his chair, which he had just pulled up to be near her; but she still managed to laugh.

      “So what?” she said.  “So I’m not a superwoman or a German.  That means I’d never suit Hitler.  Courage!  Or maybe you should sit over there next to G. and K.”

      “No, it’s not that.  It’s not that at all,” said Fritz, “but the times have made me so hard and bitter.”

      “Well, then,” said the whore, “if that’s all, why bitch?  Be dicey!  Paint the town red!  It certainly needs a new paint job”

      Her words amused him.

      And at about the same instant, and with great satisfaction, the whore slit her throat with a Wiener schnitzel knife.

      At first thinking that she was acting, Fritz said, “Strange girl!”  But that change when he saw a stream of blood squirt from her neck and her face plopped on the table.  He watched the paleness of death come over the whore and felt a particular sort of shivering that shook him to the tip of his toes.  Fritz then asked, “What did you do?” as he reached for his handkerchief.  Nearby stood a waiter, laughing and mocking, “What will the whore have?  Or will it be nothing as usual?”

      That angered Fritz, so he jumped the waiter and slammed his head into the table.  “Damn the man-who-opens-the-coffin-lid!” cried he.  “And don’t you expect a tip.”

      Then with his strength sapped, Fritz sank insensibly to the floor close to the bleeding whore, while the pay-waiter and a woman who sold flowers tried in vain to save her life.  “Wasn’t it too bad that they weren’t all acting?”

      Pauline would bury Fritz in Paraguay, while up until his death he cried for the whore.  She’d soon follow her husband to the grave.  That left their youngest son to die alone in the family’s flat.

      Randy Ford

Randy Ford Author- DEFLATION, INFLATION, DEFLATION Snapshot of History 4th Installment

      Remember the winter of 1920.  Remember the frostbite.  The frozen pipes.  Remember the sick and those who waited to die.  Still they walked to St. Katie and Gumpendorferstrasse.

      Herr Lippert stood in line the same as everyone else did.  He liked to talk, talk nonsense about politics when his views weren’t of the dumpling-and-kidney variety.  In those days who had kidneys anyway?  He liked snitzel and snoodle, dark beer and that year’s Grinzing wine.

       A woman was on his mind as he moved with the line, a woman he’d seen the day before serving food.  He didn’t belong there.  He knew it.  She could see that he didn’t belong there.  Behind his smile was an aristocrat.

      Moving in line he shuffled from foot to foot, a rich drifter.  Right a rich drifter.  Having showered, he picked up a tray.  He didn’t need to shower.  He showered at home.  Hot mocha soon.  Refills.  Sure.  She smiled as she poured him a cup of mocha.

      “Hello.”

      “So you’re back,” Pauline said, trying to concentrate on filling his cup.  Herr Lippert waited until the line disappeared before returning for a third one.  Just how she held her head.  He liked that.  This time she smiled a smile as warming as the mocha.

      Obviously, he could’ve paid for a meal somewhere else.  Pauline wondered about that.

      “Wonder what I look like to her?” he thought.  Dressed better than anyone else.  Yes, she was paying attention.

      “Wait, wait.  Maybe we can talk later,” he said.

      “Maybe,” she chuckled, flattered by the attention.  He wasn’t just another sad face in a long line.  Made him feel a bit self-conscious.  Perhaps she’d understand sarcasm better.

      Afraid of the world, she is; trying to make sense of the world, yes, that’s why she’s here, he thought.  A do-gooder, her nature; how stupid.  Seems to be sincere.  Even more stupid.

      “It’s me again.”  Afraid she’d become annoyed.

      She was coy.  Curious.  Seemed to like him.

      He thought he could get a row out of her, get something at least, when he said, “We’re all idiots.  We’re stupid to have lost the war.  Now it’s worse for us.”  He watched her for a reaction that didn’t come.  She passed the test, a test he contrived.

      Then he went back to his table, cupped his hands around his cup and grinned.  Grinned.  Actually he didn’t believe in anything.  Then why was he grinning?

       She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

       Gurrrr!

       Swine.  She wasn’t impressed.  Next time she’d make him pay, or so she thought.

      Ludwig watched Lippert.  He didn’t want anything from him, from his kind, he thought, as he watched him from afar.  He bristled over the thought that Lippert was ripping off Gumpendorferstrasse.  Looking for a handout, no.  No reasoning with his old friend.  Wanted to shake him.  But not so fast.  He was very much like Lippert.  He saw that when they first met.  When that happened: figuratively speaking: dangerous sort of.  Ludwig glanced around.  No one was paying attention.  No, wrong.  There was this woman serving at Gumpendorferstrasse who was.

      Oh, Lippert, when would you ever learn?  The thing he held against Lippert most: Viennese charm was as much at odds with the world as Lippert.  But you couldn’t trust Lippert.  Or hold him accountable.  Pity.  To waste all those brains.

      Forgot where they first met.  They went to the university at the same time.  He knew that.  Ah, yes, the university.  That seemed so long ago. Yes.  In Wien that was.  In the classes.  Got the same dismissal.  Ludwig smiled when he thought of that.  Friends after that.  There was this woman serving at Gumpendorferstrasse.  Yes, Ludwig knew her before Lippert did.

      Ludwig tried to explain how people turned to music, or dove into German history and mythology to escape their misery.  Why Wagner then more than ever?  Why Wagner at all?  Why music when people were getting a short stick?  He tried to make sense of it all.

      With empty disks for eyes, few of them could see beyond the next day.  But with joyful melodies and strains of sentiment, they could forget what they couldn’t change.

       Never was Vienna more dedicated to pretending.  The Merry Widow sung her heart out, cooing and twilling those high notes with perfection.  And with medals on their chests, gentlemen still serenaded women.  Left with nothing, they turned to wine, women, and song.  And smiled a great deal. There was no use pining for a life they had.  Johann Strauss, Kirk Wield, oh my they still went to the opera.

　      They all knew the routine, the same routine everyday: first to Gumpendorferstrasse for food, then to a warming room in Erdberg, and then back to the shelter in time for a shower and a meal.  Had to get there early.

       Randy Ford