Immigration at Its Best: Story of a German American Scholar, Born 1933 - Softcover

Dietz, Hans

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1546200894 ISBN 13: 9781546200895

Publisher: Authorhouse, 2017

Synopsis

Hans Dietz was twelve-years-old when the Royal Air Force began relentlessly bombing his homeland of Germany during World War II. Shortly after, the U.S. Army began its dangerous approach.

After the war was over, he yearned for a life under different conditions, and one of his mother's relatives in Minnesota volunteered to sponsor him so he could move to the United States of America.

In this memoir, Dietz recalls embarking on a glorious adventure to a new land. As a young man with an open mind, his recollections are sincere, precious, and funny.

By sharing his story, he demonstrates how one moves from being an outsider to an American. While he came from humble origins, living in America gave him the opportunity to develop his delicate mind and become a teacher entrusted to lead other young minds to similar success.

With more people wondering what it means to be an American, how to view the immigrant experience, and what makes America so great, the story told in From the Rhineland to the Prairie State is needed more than ever.

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Immigration at its Best

Story of a German American Scholar, Born 1933

By Hans Dietz

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2018 Hans Dietz
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-5462-0089-5

Contents

Part: I 1933–1956. Youth in Germany, 8, 
1. German Roots, 9, 
2. "I Am Not a DP", 10, 
3. Is a Financially Secure Existence Possible in America?, 11, 
4. Growing Up in Germany, 12, 
5. The Kristallnacht (Night of Broken Glass): November 9, 1938, 14, 
6. My Grade-School Years, 15, 
7. Fliegeralarm, Fliegeralarm! (Air Raid Warning), 16, 
8. Kinderlandverschickung, 17, 
9. My Loving Father, 18, 
10. Dangerous Days in a Not-So-Safe Childhood, 20, 
11. First Communion, 21, 
12. War Zone as Playground, 22, 
13. British Bombs over Düsseldorf - Stadtmitte (City Center), 23, 
14. Heavy US Bombing of Mayen, 25, 
15. The Front Arrives. What Now?, 28, 
16. The US Occupation, 29, 
17. Food Supply: A Major Concern, 31, 
18. Difficult Postwar Times, 33, 
19. Schools Reopen and the Woes of an Altar Boy, 34, 
20. Father's Grave Not Existing, 36, 
21. Early Personal Growth in Trier, 37, 
22. Touching the Robe of Christ, 39, 
23. The Benedictine Abbey of Maria Laach, a Haven of Liturgists, 40, 
24. Bicycling to Rome, 41, 
25. Everybody Loves Southern Germany's Baroque Churches, 43, 
26. Gegrüsset seist Du, Maria (Hail Mary): Schönstatt, 44, 
27. Serious about the Priesthood, 46, 
28. The All-Importance of Music, 48, 
29. The American Fever, 49, 
30. A Student at the University of Bonn, 50, 
31. Can Handwriting Reveal Character?, 51, 
32. Student Exchange at University of Caen, France, 52, 
33. Failure of the Research Paper and a Happy Way Out, 53, 
Part: II 1956–Present. Adulthood in America, 54, 
34. America! Here I Come, 55, 
35. On the Way to the USA, 57, 
36. The Joyous Entry to America, 58, 
37. Starting in an Entirely New Setting, 59, 
38. A University of Minnesota Student, 60, 
39. Instruction on an American Campus, 61, 
40. Anecdotes of Changing Cultures, 62, 
41. Misspelling Names and Attractive Coeds on Campus, 63, 
42. Playing Wilhelm Tell, 64, 
43. A Rough Cultural Adaptation, 65, 
44. Stuck in the Elevator, 66, 
45. "You Are Fired", 67, 
46. The End of Tiring Jobs, 68, 
47. The Path to Classical Scholarship, 69, 
48. The Church in the Life of Americans, 70, 
49. Jazz in Minneapolis?, 71, 
50. Closing the Circle in Illinois, 72, 
51. Give Me a K, Give Me an E ..., 74, 
52. Love and Scholarship, 75, 
53. The Wyoming Adventure, 76, 
54. A New Job at University of Notre Dame, 78, 
55. Happy Days at Notre Dame, 79, 
56. Mozart with the Chicago Symphony, 80, 
57. Are Earworms Really Bad for You?, 81, 
58. A Short Return to Europe, 82, 
59. Home Again, But Not for Long, 83, 
60. The End of the Liebfrauenschule Experience, 84, 
61. Hellas, How I Love You!, 85, 
62. Back to America and Customs Inspection, 87, 
63. Completing the Dissertation, 88, 
64. Looking West Again, 89, 
65. Stanford University, the Grateful Dead, 90, 
66. Losing Tenure, 91, 
67. Picking up the Pieces and Tumbling Again, 92, 
68. Divorce, 94, 
69. Angelus mihi venit (An Angel Came to Me), 95, 
70. Student Teaching, 96, 
71. A Certified High School Teacher, 97, 
72. A Summer in Bonn, 98, 
73. The Adenauer Memory, 99, 
74. More Inferior Jobs, 100, 
75. The Ivory Tower Waves Again, 101, 
76. NEH Seminar and More Disappointments, 102, 
77. No End to Short-Term Jobs, 104, 
78. Another Attempt at College Teaching, 105, 
79. Passus Ultimus (The Last Mile), 106, 
80. Job Search versus Personal Life, 107, 
81. The End of Nomadic Life, 108, 
82. Québec, 109, 
83. Bayreuther Festspiele 1995 (Bayreuth Opera Festival), 110, 
84. Steely Dan at Tenure Celebration, 111, 
85. One More Language and Costa Rica Study Tour, 112, 
86. More NEH Summer Grants, 114, 
87. More Home Visits, 115, 
88. A Frightening Experience, 116, 
89. Make Room, 117, 
90. The Big Finale, 119, 
91. Afterword, 120, 
Part: III Professional Achievements, Papers, and Publications, 121, 
92. Papers, 122, 
93. Publications, 124, 
Part: IV Images, 125, 
94. A Carpe Diem (Seize the Day) Wish, 205, 

CHAPTER 1

German Roots

Throughout my life in America, it has always been a cause of pride to be recognizedas a native of an illustrious country of renown like Germany, a land of great culture and fame.

"Illustrious country of renown?" But one might ask: what about the dark side of the country's history in the years 1943 to 1949, when Germany lay in the rubble of its destroyed cities and devastated countryside, with no government and nothing but contempt from the rest of the world?

We might continue to ask, what if the United States had not come to the aid of Germany, defeated for the second time in a row, and had just left the country at the mercy of the Soviet Union, which was just waiting to swallow up all of Central Europe? What if America had just kept entirely out of the entire continental mess?

In that case, Germany would have become, and stayed forever, a third-world country. Hence, in accordance with the saying "Dic mihi unde venias et dico tibi quis sis" ("Tell me where you come from and I tell you who you are"), I think I would not meet the same flattering curiosity from people around me.

However, during the decades since the 1950's Germany has been enjoying a solid democracy and has reached superb political and economic power among its European partners and the rest of the world.

It's German pride. I am proud to be a German American.

CHAPTER 2

"I Am Not a DP"

When I lived in student housing at the University of Minnesota in 1958, we had a guy walking around from room to room, joking and sometimes wielding a gun just to frighten everybody.

He would enter my room and address me with, "Hey, DP." Not knowing how to react to this tough guy, I corrected him politely and said, "I am not a DP, dude."

Still, I could not get it into his head that I was a regular immigrant with an immigration visa and a sponsor. For him, everybody speaking with an accent was a DP or just a foreigner.

I never did get to peaceful terms with him; luckily, he left soon before the term was over.

It is indeed fortunate that I never had to be a displaced person in my life.

I came to the United States, sponsored by an American citizen. I came willingly, with enthusiasm and the expectation to take advantage of America's many opportunities and the encouragement to go as far as possible in life.

And so I think I have treated myself to this privilege sufficiently so that I can gladly claim to have had a successful career and a good life.

CHAPTER 3

Is a Financially Secure Existence Possible in America?

My life narrative takes a sudden leap of twenty-two years to show how hard it can be to adapt to a new culture and how wrongly Europeans view job security in America. I begin with this story:

For the summer of 1980, I had a stipend from the German Academic Exchange Service (DAAD) for a research project on the history of the Third Reich to be conducted at the University of Bonn.

We moved from Illinois to Bonn for that summer. My wife Jacqueline, teaching English at the time, finished her study of comparative learning styles at the Beethoven Gymnasium.

When we were back in the United States, I received a letter from a professor of the department of ancient history in Bonn, saying that he was sorry that I was not able to find a position in Germany.

He went on to say that there were still job openings in southern Germany which I could consider. He added that he did not think that it was possible to make a secure living in the United States.

My well-meaning colleague could not believe that I would go back to America without a job waiting for me, which indeed was the case.

It had been twenty-four years that I first came to America. In those years, I had grownto be an American and would have had a difficult time readjusting to German life, had we decided to stay.

Having lived in America for so long, I had started to create my own narrative, building a career all on my own in an environment where everybody is free to succeed, without any sociological constraints. I was already in the midst of my journey, and the best was still to come.

My concerned friend had misunderstood my determination to go back to the country where I had already spent as many years as I had lived in Germany.

In addition, I would add that my dear friend was wrong about life security in the United States. He was sharing the old disputed view that it is not possible to count on a secure living in America, whereas progress in the socialized field has made it possible that seniors in retirement, for instance, can have a comfortable life supported by Social Security, Medicare, and additional annuity income.

CHAPTER 4

Growing Up in Germany

I was born in 1933, the dark year when Hitler came to power, starting his systematic destruction of Germany. Mayen is my birthplace, a small town of roughly nineteen thousand inhabitants, located in the volcanic Eifel region of the Federal State of Rheinland-Pfalz (Rhineland-Palatinate). Its main economic resource was basalt stone mining.

Rocks were the product of this community. Rocks determined the character of its natives: rough and simple. There were strict divisions between educated and uneducated, rich and poor, Geschäftsleute (those who owned a business or store) and Arbeiter (working-class people).

The economy was bad in those days. My dad received a minimum of education. I remember my mother saying that my father's job was to help his father, Heinrich, hammer big basalt blocks into cobblestones used for street pavements, terribly hard work. (View pictures in part 4.)

I remember watching groups of chattering women every morning carrying hot meals, in containers carefully dividing the different parts of the dinner, up into the mines, a long road by foot, where their husbands and sons were working. They were not always received gratefully for their loving efforts because the workers were too ruffled from their jobs to be nice to their wives and mothers. (View picture in part 4.)

My mother told me that when she was pregnant with me, Dad had to tell his father that he was getting married. "Heiraten?" (Marry?") Heinrich said. "Du kannst doch für das Kind einfach zahlen" ("You can always pay for the kid.")

Dad was also expected to help his father earn extra money by rounding up his friends at his house — where we lived on the first floor — to consume his beer, which Heinrich was selling on the side.

My mother hated these frequent drinking sessions and complained to the old man. He did not take her accusations graciously and answered that this was his house and he could do whatever he wanted to.

I come from a rough family of bellicose sons and daughters, tough from their stone-carving jobs and ready to fight at the slightest provocation from their coworkers.

* * *

When it was time for my birth, Dr. Hartmann, a Jew, came to deliver me; I did not want to come right away, but after he lit a cigar, I finally emerged. I heard from my mother in later years that he was living in Long Island. What a relief to hear that. He was lucky to have left the country in time, before 1938, when the borders were closed.

I was called Johann — an old-fashioned name, shortened into Hans — followed by the name Peter.

My godfather was my uncle Hans, who was a Nazi wearing the brown uniform and often seen in official function. He was said to have sworn that his next child would not be baptized.

According to my mother, one Saturday morning, several brown shirts stood in front of a Jewish drugstore, taking pictures of customers exiting the store. Hans was one of them.

When my mother came out of the store and the brown-uniformed thugs took a picture of her, she turned around and said, "Knips auch meinen Hintern" ("Take a picture of my butt too").

My mother hated her brother-in-law because he called her a "Separatist," which was Nazislander for people in favor of the establishment of a Rheinische Republik (Rhine Republic), independent from Germany.

Though my mother was not at all political, she was called a Separatist just because her father had that reputation.

CHAPTER 5

TheKristallnacht(Night of Broken Glass): November 9, 1938

When I was five, I heard my mother talking with her neighbor the morning after about the terrible attack on the Jewish population: "Die armen Juden" ("The poor Jews"), and so on.

It was the dreadful night when Nazi thugs all over Germany attacked Jewish stores and synagogues, broke pictures and windows, set fires, and arrested and deported Jewish people, a horrible event that made news all over the world.

In an old street in Mayen called Entenpfuhl, where my mother lived after the war, (see picture in part 4) one can see a stone inscription recalling the synagogue that stood there and was destroyed during the Kristallnacht.

Now, in my hometown, on November 9 of every year, people gather for a Schweigeweg (silent walk), starting from the city hall, proceeding to the marketplace, then to the old Jewish cemetery and the place where the synagogue stood, and ending up in the old Heilig Geist Kapelle (Holy Spirit Chapel), the only church in Mayen that survived destruction during the war.

In this church, all war victims of the city and its surroundings, including my father, are listed in a special commemorative book. When I first saw his name in the book, this thought overcame me: Why did it have to be him? He was the best of the three Dietz brothers.

The other two came back. I can still hear my mother saying, "Peter, mein Mann, war der beste von den drei. Hans war ein Nazi und Hein geriet schon früh in Schwierigkeiten mit dem Gesetz" ("Peter, my husband, was the best of the three. Hans was a Nazi, and Hein already had an early brush with the law").

When I see on the Internet the list of names of Jewish residents of Mayen who were forced to leave and never came back, I am overwhelmed by sadness and wonder why those people whose names are so familiar to me — even entire families: the Cohns, the Kahns, the Rosenthals — were denied a chance to live their lives in peace. This fact is hard to accept, and it still remains unatoned for.

While I share no responsibility for the crime, having only been a child then, the blame goes to those of adult age in those days.

When I heard my mother use the word Konzentrationslager (concentration camp) or KZ, I did not even understand the meaning of the word, nor did I hear her pronounce it properly — was she maybe saying Konzertlager, where they played concerts?

After the war, the truth came out in a torrent. But at the time, people were never told what happened to their neighbors taken away at night from their homes, and as long as it did not happen to them, they did not ask any questions, lest they bring suspicion upon themselves.

CHAPTER 6

My Grade-School Years

I started grade school in early 1939. According to my mother, I did not want to go to school because kids were throwing their Fahrtenmesser (short daggers worn with their Hitler Youth uniforms) at the blackboard during recess.

This reveals me as the tender and fearful young boy that I was in my childhood. I was of a different makeup from that of my playmates and could not bear roughness. Nor did I ever wrestle or fight.

However, I did like the drawing of a Nazi parade on the board one day, drawn with the distinct brown chalk and the red and the black, an intoxicating fascist feast for the eyes of a child.

Later in 1939, we moved to Düsseldorf, where my father found a job on the railroad, and I continued grade school. I remember a field trip to the Albert Leo Schlageter monument outside of the city, where Schlageter was executed in 1923 by a French firing squad. He was a German patriot after the first World War (1914–1918) who led sabotage actions against the French army occupying the Rhineland and the industrial Ruhr region.

The Nazis made him into a martyr and national hero. He was celebrated in Hitler's Mein Kampf. The Denkmal (monument) was taken down by the British occupation in 1946.

I was impressed by the size of the monument, as children are, and to please our teachers, I pretended to be sad over the fate of the hero.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Immigration at its Best by Hans Dietz. Copyright © 2018 Hans Dietz. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Authorhouse
• Publication date: 2017
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1546200894
• ISBN 13: 9781546200895
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 210