Less than 24 hours...

Was how long it took before I spoke German in the US. I arrived early this year so was able to go on the Christmas tree hunting trip, something I've never been able to do because it's always a week before I've always been home, due to the tradition of doing it on my aunt's birthday. While we were there, I could hear an older woman complaining about something, in German, to her son. I quickly headed down a different tree aisle.

After choosing the tree and getting all of that sorted, we needed to pick up some of the free greenery, as I was in charge of making the cemetary arrangements this year. (I've been in charge of lots of random things this year, because I'm home so early, with a very small agenda outside of drinking coffee and cooking.)

My aunts and I were picking up some of the free tree branches, and there is that German woman again, yet again complaining, now both in English and German, that her son does not know how to properly pick branchs (she had the same purpose as me). My one aunt and I are like cheese and chalk. My aunt, seeking to make things better says, 'you must not be around here, if the cold is bothering you?' The woman answers 'no, no, I am from Germany.' My ever so helpful aunt says, 'oh really--she lives in Germany!' and the woman looks at me with a questioning eye.

Of course I had to ask her then, in German, where she is from. Essen. No wonder I so easily understood her, that is barely 40 minutes from where I live. And then she got on a roll. 'Robert, come over here, she speaks German!' (Robert was her tall, dark and handsome son who was shuttling her chosen branches too the car, as he was deemed unskilled for choosing them.) Robert got in a cursory 'that's nice' before continuing on his pack mule banch hauling way.

She explained to me that they had to leave Germany after the war, and she's never been back. Her children all speak and understand German, because that is all that she and her husband spoke in the house. Her children had some friends in an equivalent position, but their parents 'were lazy', the children could understand her but not speak German properly. She then tells me, that there are very few German speakers in this area. True, true.

She then goes on (out of the corner of my eye, her son is done hauling and is now speaking with my aunts), to call her son over. 'Robert, look at her, how schlank!' and points to my waist. (My black wool coat is indeed quite slimming.) Gotta love the German directness. Some things never die. She then proceeds to rail on him, about how he gets in the car in the garage, drives to where he wants to go, and then gets back into the car, and how all Americans are like this and that's the problem. She asks me, how do you stay so thin? Um, I walk a lot daily and go walking in the woods on Sundays in Germany, and sometimes the pool. (Because nothing else is open I wanted to add, but didn't.) 'Precisely! You walk in Germany!'

I get the feeling Robert has heard this argument before as he scurried away. He was talking with my aunt about her car. The old woman gives them the razor eye...do they speak German too? No only me. She's been talking almost non-stop for 15 minutes, and I think I barely escaped getting invited home and married off. At this point I was saved by the bell.

The tree place, it's run by the local fire company. The tree lot is located next door to the fire company. The ancient fire siren sounded, loud as all get out, three long wails, before switching to a lower constant clanging. The old woman grabs my arm and shouts over it. "I remember this sound very well." Thankfully, it gave us our exit to leave.