A few bright lights!

In reflecting over the past 79 years of my life, I've noticed that there have been a few significant occurrences -- I like to call them bright lights -- that have profoundly altered the trajectory of my life's direction. Of course, the first of these was my very adoption itself which was due to a fortuitous series of unlikely circumstances. If Father Josef Albinger had perished in that concentration camp in Dachau, he wouldn't have been around to visit the orphanage where I was staying. Then he wouldn't have spotted me in that crib, and wouldn't have told my adoptive parents, Anna and Karl, about my existence. Likewise, if Anna and Karl had been killed in Berlin during the bombings, they wouldn't have been able to flee to Marburg to start a new life, and make the decision to adopt me. So many Ifs! But fortunately, things turned out for the best.

Of course, things didn't always turn out for the best. I wonder what my life might have been like if my adoptive mother hadn't died of cancer when I was five. What if she and my dad had emigrated to America together? If they had raised me together. Would my early childhood have been less lonely? But I don't want to waste my time ruminating about might-have-beens.

I'd like to focus instead on a few events that changed the course of my life in a positive way. One that didn't seem so positive at the time, turned out to be a blessing in disguise. In 1956, when I was eleven years old, my dad persuaded a Xavier University professor colleague of his -- Dr. Harkins -- to let me stay with his family of eight because my dad didn't have the wherewithal to take care of me since he was working and studying full-time. So, suddenly I went from being an only child raised by a single dad to being part of a huge Catholic family. I got an instant set of siblings! Fortunately, their oldest son Patrick took me under his wing, introduced me to his school friends, and provided me with the companionship I craved. In fact, after about six months with the Harkins, I was sorry to have to go back to live with my dad again where I would again be the only child. But that experience was cetainly a bright light. Patrick and I have managed to stay in touch for all these years.

Another bright light occurred during my junior year at Xavier University during which I managed to get into in a student dorm for the first time in my life. Not only did that give me the chance to break free of my dad, but it was there that I also made my first adult friend --Gene Castillon.

However, the most unusual and memorable bright light in my life came about when I was a floundering high school student of fifteen. At the time, I was attending St. Xavier High School in Cincinnati. I was enrolled in a very demanding, academically-oriented honor's program which allowed no opportunities for my creative talents to blossom. I was also very lonely there since I made no friends during sophomore, junior, and senior years. Around that time my dad was teaching English at Xavier University. One of his summer session students was a warm and sensitive Catholic nun named Sister Mary Elissa. She was also a parochial school teacher in a small town in Northern Kentucky. When my dad told her of the problems I was having in high school, she had a brilliant idea that was to change my life forever. She invited me to join her 8th grade class for an entire week. So, I was able to take time off from my high school classes to travel to Kentucky.

This turned out to be one of the most wonderful experiences of my life, which unfortuately didn't last long. But it left a deep and lasting impression on me. Not only did I attend Sister Mary Elissa's class for an entire week, but she also arranged for me to stay with the family of one of her students, a troubled fourteen-year-old boy named Ross. But as Patrick Harkins had done four years before, Ross took me under his wing. He introduced me to all his friends, invited me to play baseball with his classmates, and did everything in his power to make me feel welcome.

In the the meantime, I loved Sister Elissa's class. She had the kids do all kinds of creative activities I didn't have a chance to do at St. Xavier like drawing and writing stories. She also encouraged me to share my own experiences in Germany and my emigration to the U.S. on an ocean steamer. The other kids were not only very impressed, but also eager to hear more since they had never met anyone from another country before. But the best part came on the final day of my stay. Sister Elissa asked everyone in the class -- there must have been about thirty -- to write me a letter in which each one expressed what my stay meant to them. When I got home, I read the letters with eager anticipation. I was completely in awe of all the positve things that the other kids had to say about me. It was the complete opposite of being teased in bullied in junior high. All the kids loved having me be part of their class. They enjoyed listening to my emigration experiences, and hoped that I could return again sometime in the future. Unfortunately, that never came about. But those letters made me realize that there were other kids in this world who actually liked me and wanted to be my friend. My biggest regret is that I lost those letters during one of my many moves. But their affirming messages have stayed with me for the rest of my life.