Excerpt: When Walls Crumble

CHAPTER THREE

APRIL 1, 1933

LENA

Birds sang beautiful melodies translated into hope and beauty and joy. The sweet scent of the morning breeze wafted into my room filling my essence. The soft sheets against my face and skin was like a loving embrace. Rays from the sun danced across my windowsill. What a beautiful perfect day it would be. I could picture myself taking a walk down main street greeting the shopkeepers and then strolling over to the park and having a picnic by myself along with my favorite book and spending the whole afternoon reading. Perfection in a day.
I dressed, washed, ate, and prepared for my outing. I wore my most comfortable dress made from the softest cotton. Calf length, it provided decent enough coverage to lie confortably in the grass. Short sleeves provided cool breezes (allowed) to grace my arms. And of course, it was pretty. I would not say beautiful because I had seen more pleasing dresses, but ti was definitely pretty. A background of burgundy overlaid with a simple pattern of cream colored birds taking flight. Whenever I wore the dress, I felt as if I could do anything, as if I were free as a bird.
I packed a picnic lunch in a small basket and carefully tucked my book in as well. I fastened my shoes to my feet and set out for a day of wonder, pleasure, exploration, and relaxation. The park was a good mile and a half walk taking the fastest route, but today I decided that I wanted to take the scenic path and look around town and observe the goings-on of everyone. I brought along a couple marks just in case I wanted to stop by Herr Abendroth’s bakery and get some fresh bread or a pastry as I am prone to do on days like these.
Slowly making my way through the streets, I watched the people as they passed. In the past month, the presence of the SS and Gestapo officers had become more pervalent, but today was really the day when I really noticed them. I saw some standing out ion front of shops, others were hanging signs on shops, and even a few were arguing with storekeepers. What was going on? I passed a livery where an SS officer stood in front, as it appeared, gurading the door. The storekeeper was no where to be seen. A man in maybe his early thirties attempted to enter, but the SS officer spoke some harsh words to him. Although I could not hear exactly what he was saying, the officer was trying to dissuade the man from entering. After much talk and some raised voices, the man relented from entering. I apporached him once we had both taurned the corner.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Did not you hear?” he said surprised at my lack of knowledge of something. I shook my head and waited for him to continue.
“There is a boycott of Jewish stores starting today,” he said before he walked into another store. I refrained from following despite my nagging curiousity. A boycott of Jewish stores. Good. Maybe then they would not be taking our jobs. Proud of our policemen and government, I continued on my way to the park. I found myself a comfy spot against a groupiong of trees surrounding by grass and nestled myself in for a large portion of the afternoon. As I read, I ate. After many hours, the sun was beginning to go down. I packed up my belongings into my basket and started on my way home. Feeling for the two marks in my pocket, I decided to buy a loaf of bread for the family as a special treat.
I made a quick detour to Herr Abendroth’s bakery and was humming to myself when I noticed the man. I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes widening, jaw dropping, I almost let go of my basket. A SS officer was in front of Herr Abendroth’s bakery! It could not be. There must be some mistake. A decent respectable man like Herr Abendroth could not be Jewish . . . could he?
Regaining my composure and taking multiple deep breaths, I appraoched the SS officer. He looked at me sharply.
“Ma’am, do not buy from Jews. Do not enther this shop. Do you want to support a Jew who is taking money from your very pocket? A Jew who is the reason that this depression was on us? A Jew who was propsering when you were scrounging for food? Do not enter this shop and you will be loyal to the Fatherland and you will be called a loyal German citizen, but enter, and those things cannot be said of you,” he said slowly enunciating each word precisely and spitting the word Jew whenever he said, and adding reverence to Fatherland.
“But this man? A Jew? I think you must be mistaken, Herr. This man has been nothing but honorable and honest for as long as I have known him,” I said. Herr Abendroth stepped into sight of the window and waved at me. I raised my hand to wave back, but dropped it quickly.
“He is indeed a Jew, and there is no honest, honorable Jew. Do not buy from this Jew or from any other.” I bit my lip and turned to leave.
“You have made the right decision. Take joy in the fact that you are loyal to Germany and to Deh Fuhrer,” the officer said as I left, but I barely heard him. Instead, face of Herr Abendroth was in my mind as I held back tears. Why was I wanting to cry? Because such a wonderful man was Jewish? Or was it because at that moment, I hated him with every ounce, every fiber of body that I was sure that if I did not scream or cry or release my anger at him in some way that I would never be able to put that smiling face out of my mind?