Mein Wundervoller Bruder – Part 1

The other day my nephew told me that his father told him that if he were to ever associate with me that he would disown him as his son. What a wonderful man? But before he said that he called his son a bunch of names and dogged him as he has done so often over the years, criticizing him for reasons that are too personal to go into however let me just say that when my nephew told me of his father’s threat to discard his one and only son for something as ridiculous as wanting to know his uncle I was not surprised. I have not had a great relationship with my mother’s child (my brother) since she died, actually before she died. EvilI think his hatred for me began when I refused to go to court for him to testify negatively against the mother of his children. It’s not that I wouldn’t have gone if there were legitimate reasons but my brother asked me to testify to something I wasn’t comfortable swearing to… you see he has been (or at least “was”) a pot smoker as far back as I can remember and he wanted me to go to court and swear that the mother of his children, his then girlfriend had smoked pot in my home and to conveniently forget the fact that he was the one that handed her the pot that she smoked. This was a time during the holidays when my partner and I would host my entire family at my house. We, my partner and I, do not smoke pot however I never had objected to an adult smoking the stuff in my home, I support marijuana and smokers despite my not being able to enjoy this natural drug… without going into too much detail here, when I was about 18 years old the stuff started triggering anxiety attacks so I stopped. Because I didn’t go to court and not really lie, not just tell the whole truth, my brother stopped talking to me for… my guess is a year…and then when he finally did started talking to me again he made sure to let me know how unhappy he was by the lack of my support.

I don’t even remember what the court case was about anymore, I’m sure it had something to do with custody or making her appear to be negligent so he could have his children more…whatever the reason I’m glad that the courts didn’t change the custody rights because I don’t think he is responsible enough to be a father or should I say raise children, of course that’s just my opinion because all I know about his parenting and relationship skills have been what women from his past relationships have shared with me.  He has proven that he can (I guess) support his children and this is very good for him.

I’ve mentioned in other postings that there are two classes of people in my family, the
Americans and the Germans.  My mother never made the distinction but my younger brother and I were made to feel this way by not only my older brothers but by all our USA-vs-Germany_640_379_sGerman relatives. Maybe this is just insecurity speaking by often I believe my German relatives are sitting in Pirmasens clapping their hands in celebration of all the German blood that courses through his veins. Yes, I feel like that’s all that matters. His father was German, and my father was American so I am no at worthy as my Aryan Bruder… my blood is not “pure” so not matter how good I am, not matter what I do in life… the German blood in my Bruder outweighs my blood. Mein Grosser Bruder! Sie sind ein wunderbarer Mensch dank ihrer Blut! Aber diese lacherliche Amerikaner is unwurdig deiner Grosse! But I digress…

So my brother doesn’t want his son to know me… and really in the end I’m okay with that…I would have liked to known my nieces and nephews but as I’ve indicated I’ve kept away from his children to honor his wishes. I did recently invite my brothers children and their mother to my wedding reception and she accepted… as excited as I was to see my nephew and nieces on this important day in my live, and despite the acceptance card that she bothered to return to me by mail… my family never showed up; well, let me restate that, my younger brother, his wife and their children did come, just not the family of my older brother… I don’t blame my nieces and nephews (obviously as they are minors and must abide by their parents wishes) but I believe that my brother may have expressed his views to the mother of his children, as she had indicated to me in an earlier conversation that regardless of his wishes to exclude their children from my life she was going to allow them to get to know me, however at the last-minute they didn’t show… I’m sure that my “loving Mormon Deacon” brother weighed in on her decision to bring their children to my special day and as a result determined that the potential battle far outweighed the reward… so my nieces and nephew missed a great day in my life.

Mein Wunderbare Bruder, was fur ein toller Mann du bist.  (My German is weak but I try…) I have always loved that I have German blood and that I am part of a great Nation… A Powerful Nation that today plays such an integral part in the course of world events… but over course “Ich bin nur ein dummer Amerikaner” and I live in the shadow of my brother… at least in the eyes of my “legene Deutshen Familie”.  One of my cousins has recently commented on posts that referenced my mother and father telling me that I should be ashamed of myself for speaking so negatively of the dead…but she is so wrong…the words and stories I share of my mother and father aren’t for disrespect… they are in honor of my mother and father that both lived very difficult lives. I loved my mother and father and even when our lives were at its lowest, when there was no food in the refrigerator, when my parents knew that they were struggling, when they faced life’s worst difficulties, they were wonderful parents that wanted the best for their children… whether they were German or whether they were American…my parents weren’t divided by nationalities or their blood. “Aber die reale Welt is anders”…especially since the death of my mother and father I have seen the German side of my family stand up and defend the evils of my German brother while negating the good and support that me and my American brother have done and given to my mother and father.

For some reason the Germans in my family have determined that my mother’s American children are not to the level of my mother’s German children and this is okay, because when I die (and I don’t believe in God and “ahem” neither did my mother… did you German’s know that? I bet not) if we are judged I will stand next to those in judgement as I have done nothing to disrespect my mother, not in the way that me half-brother has done. But wait… I’m being harsh aren’t I? Please your honor, strike from the record my last three paragraphs in order to “Zucht und Ordnung aufrecht zu erhalten”.  I am American with a German Birth Certificate and an American Birth Certificate. I don’t understand German culture but I would not criticize my German relatives for anything they might post however they on the other hand seem to have no hesitation when it comes to their criticism of me for my posts… but what is most disturbing about their perception, opinion, or interpretation of their American family is that they blatantly support my siblings based on the amount of German blood in their veins….

So again, there is my Mein Wundervoller Bruder, the man who has told his not quite yet adult child that he cannot associate with me. I have not seen this man since he told me he was “taking” my mother’s house from me and my brothers after she died.  What a day, my mother was dead. My beautiful mom, Inge…. I loved her so much… she was gone. I paid for a dumpster to be delivered to my mothers driveway to clean the garbage from her filthy househouse. My mother was a hoarder. Not the worst hoarder, not like you see on TV, those people who have to climb over newspapers to get to their kitchen or their bathroom but definitely a hoarder, my mother saved everything. Clothes, newspaper, magazines, paint cans, dog food cans, plastic bags, paper plates, envelopes, junk mail, junk furniture, whatever…once it was in my mother’s house it was there to stay. My mother was reaching the point where even disposable items had value. I remember once when my cousin Corina showed up in Maryland with her then boyfriend (maybe husband… too long ago, I’m not in touch with them and I don’t know much about my family in Georgia) and her children I ordered  and paid for a couple of pizzas (and brought beer) and pulled paper plates out from her cabinet, well you can imagine how embarrassing it was when it turned out that my mother had wiped off the paper plates (dirty nasty paper plates) and put them back in her cabinet… and Yes Corina… if you read this and deny it happened then you are just as much in denial as the Germans that worship Thor! I remember your boyfriend quickly took all the nasty dirty plates away you and your children…and we served the pizza on paper towels.

So Mein Wundervoller Bruder… Der Thor… I think my cousin Sabrina named a child “Thor” I hope it was for the Norse God “und nicht mein Bruder”. I sound like I don’t like the German side of my family but that isn’t true. One of the last things I hoped to do before I die was to visit whatever Germans might still be alive that might remember me but now when I reread my cousin Angelika’s comments about my posts about my parents I’m not sure that I would be welcome, so if I go to Germany, which I expect to do in the next few years, I do not plan to visit those that judge me so critically.  I am angry, and rightfully so. No one knows that went on here, they all showed up in the last few weeks of the my mother’s life and immediately the German side of my family pointed fingers at the American sons for not being there for my mother, forgetting that my mother had German children too.

They act like my mother’s house was never filthy and only became filthy towards the end of her life, they forget when they would visit the piles and piles of dirty clothes that were in my mother laundry room which we were “NEVER” allowed to wash because we (as children) didn’t know how to wash clothes properly so the top of the dryer became my family’s collective closet. You needed a towel for a shower… on top of the dryer. You needed clean socks… on top of the dryer… you needed a shirt… on top of the dryer. When clothes hit the floor in the laundry room that’s where it stayed. I remember an afghan that was on the floor not just days, not just weeks, not even months, but YEARS! Sometimes when the German or Georgian part of my family would come for a visit we would go into emergency mode, DEFCON 1! Everyone in the house would clean, clean, clean… so often when the family would come they wouldn’t see the filth, but that wasn’t always the case. Sometimes they would surprise us when the house was a mess or often the German relatives would maintain my mother’s kitchen while they were visiting.

My mother loved it when her house was clean. When my father would get drunk he would clean the kitchen, when he was sober he would lay on the couch reading “The Enquirer”, the “TV Guide”, or do crossword puzzles. When we got older my mother became less argumentative at our attempts to clean. I think that she was afraid that if we cleaned (as children) that we would make her look bad… what I mean by this is as not a good mother and wife, not that we would do better than her, but unfortunately her lack of or inability to maintain the house did exactly that. My aunt in Georgia (also very German) was able to maintain her house, and she did not hesitate to have chores for her children. They made their own beds, they kept their rooms clean and they helped around the house.  My mother didn’t want her children helping.  I may have written about his already but when I was a kid I stayed with my family in Georgia for a short stint and when I came home I was a bit more disciplined. You see I stayed in the guest room in my aunt’s home and she made sure that I, like here children, maintained the room in which I slept.  I didn’t like it at first but by the time I life Georgia I had planned that I would be a model son and help my mother maintain her house. Well the first time I started cleaning after arriving home my mother “SCREAMED” at me, yes “SCREAMED”…. she yelled “WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO? BE MORE OF A WOMAN THAN YOU ALREADY ARE?” I stopped cleaning at that point and never helped again.  We were the talk of the neighborhood with the dirtiest, filthiest, nastiest house.

I defy anyone to say that my mother’s house was anything but dirty. And before I am attacked for what some people on the other side of the world might think, this was public knowledge here. Ask anyone, yes anyone, that had ever gone to my mother’s house anytime, and not just Sequoia Drive where she spent the remainder of her life… Hawthorne Drive too, where we lived when we first came to America (6533 Apartment A, Hawthorne Drive, Edgewood, MD phone number 676-2786) Ask my brothers if they remember that… I’m losing a lot on my mental abilities thanks to age, like forgetting words and mixing up times, but I remember things. I remember that address and that phone number from 45 years ago. I’m not making this stuff up. Those that criticize me now might not remember the piles of dirty clothes, the junk room filled with broken furniture, old magazines, piles and piles of junk, dog hair in their food, dirty toilets and tub, they might not remember the pile of dirty dishes on the counter, the food stains, the aluminum cans busting out of plastic garbage bags. My cousins from Germany may not remember the flea infestation when they visited from Germany when anyone walking through my mother’s house was eaten alive…a person would be covered in bite marks on their legs. I remember my cousins jumping out of bed one night because the fleas were biting them. I remember my one cousin Micha (now deceased, but a wonderful woman, having passed away in her 20’s) when she visited and stayed at my house, she went into my mother’s house and couldn’t breath, the smell was so bad she came running out and said “I can’t stand it in there” and that was when both my parents were still alive. So my mother’s filthy house at her death can not have been a surprise, they all knew… but guess what?! The American sons were blamed for her filthy house after she died.

My mother had 4 sons but she relied on we two younger sons more than on her elder sons and in regards to her eldest its understandable, he lived out-of-state and certainly would not be able to assist her with shopping or mowing her lawn or anything like that. I think I need to mention here that my mother, her entire life that I knew her, had leg and back issues and the last few years of her life she pretty much stayed in her wheel chair. She was becoming incontinent as well and as a result required a portable toilet next to her bed. I, of course, would not expect my eldest brother, living in South Carolina, be available to empty my mother’s toilet, or be available for any similar assistance. I don’t know if my brother (the topic of this posting, Thor) ever emptied my mother’s toilet, I know that I did many times. I really doubt that Thor did because he rarely visited my mother. I doubt that my younger brother did this either but I know for a fact that his wife had emptied the toilet on many occasions as well as a neighbor that would often visit my mother, Carol would not only visit my mother, but was a dear friend to her, and would assist my mother when she could when visiting. Now let me say this, Carol had LONG given up on helping my mother clean her house. She did at first but she told me once that my mother seemed incapable of even throwing food wrappers away and she wasn’t about to battle with her over what could be kept and what could be thrown away. So, between myself, my younger brother’s wife and my mother’s neighbor Carol the toilet would be emptied (a horrible job, especially if there were days between any of us visiting her). One day to thank Carol for all she did for my mother I purchased her a crystal bowl from Macy’s. I don’t believe any of my siblings ever considered thanking Carol in this or any other way.

Where was my brother. He only live 15 miles up the road, but he was never there more my mother. I asked her one time why she didn’t ask him for help and she said that he was so busy with his own life, you see, my brother had just a few years early become a father and now there were three children in his life. So my mother never “bothered” him much. She never called him when she needed groceries, she never asked him to tend to her lawn, he certainly would never straighten things up when he came over, but she lived for his rare visits when he would bring his children to visit her, and usually with a meal from KFC or some other similar place. I always thought that he paid for these meals as I had always paid for every grocery item I ever bought my mother, but my mother told me that she frequently reimbursed him or gave him her bank card to by the food. Outrageous! I never NEVER do you hear me EVER asked my mother to pay me back for the groceries I bought her. She would ask me to take money but I NEVER would. Once she even told me that she felt guilty because I always paid for her food and my other brothers took her money for it, I mean none of us were obligated to pay for my mother’s food but I always felt like it was the least I could do after all, she had done so much for me. My younger brother and his wife would frequently purchase groceries for my mother as well and I would speak to my sister-in-law as we both found it infuriating that Thor got away without ever having to make a trip to the grocery store, she always relied on her American children and our spouses. NOT her German children.

Often when I would visit my mother I would straighten up her kitchen a bit, not a lot because there was no sense in it, no matter what you did to clear things up when you returned it was always back to its original state but I would nevertheless pick up the tops of yogurt containers, tasty-kake wrapper or used paper-towels and throw them away fussing at my mother telling her that all she needed to do was roll over to her trash can. I asked her how she could be so busy that she couldn’t even throw a wrapper away. Also I would ALWAYS have to close her cabinet doors because it was impossible for her to close them… don’t ask me why but every time I would go visit her, her cabinet doors would be open. She would laugh at me saying she thought it was so funny because the first thing I did what head to her cabinets and of course, like with the food wrappers which never got thrown away I would fuss at her for leaving them open. I loved my mother but some of the things she would do would drive me crazy… of course now that she’s gone I’d rather have her here driving me crazy again… but of course that’s not going to happen. You know, maybe Thor did pick things up on occasion when he visited, maybe he did do things, but according to my mother he did not, and believe me I asked. I don’t want to think that my brother totally disregarded his mother but I think that other than an obligation to share his children with her he wouldn’t even really visit her.

Things with my brother got worse over time and what really stinks is that at one time he was a great guy. He was the guy that the German side of my family remembers and looked up to. My brother was very handsome. He had shockingly beautiful blonde hair. His father must have been adorable. He was well built and very athletic. When he was young, in his teens in high school they called him Thor because he reminded everyone on the Norse God. He was so cool, I remember he had a snake for a pet. He had a beautiful girlfriend and was just the kind of guy you wanted to know and hang with. As a brother I adored him and looked up to him. I don’t know what happened to him but over the years he changed, we went through several relationships none of which lasted very long with the exception of one lady that he bought a house with and together they lived as an unmarried couple for many years. She was great too, and like my brother very cool in nature. She too smoked pot and I know this because one Christmas when I was a teenager she and my brother came to my mothers house for the holiday and after I left she called in a panic. Apparently she had bought my brother a bag of pot as a gift and he dropped it somewhere. She asked me to check where they had been parked. It was not secret that they smoked the stuff and in the 70’s it was much less of an issue. I want to say everyone did it but I’m sure someone out there reading this (if anyone ever does read it) will say “Well I never smoked pot in the 70’s”, but a lot people did. It was more unusual, especially in my high school to know people that didn’t smoke it. Later this great woman, whom we thought would be a part of my brother’s life forever left him for another man. I think that was the beginning of his change. He was still very cool but he was becoming a little more arrogant, he was showing a bit more temper, and unlike his original demeanor that made you want to hang with him there were times when you wanted to avoid him.

I mentioned earlier my cousin Micha not being able to breathe in my mother’s house because of the smell well during that visit we took her and another cousin Mathias and his boyfriend at the time Pat to a gay bar in Baltimore and Thor was with us. We had such a great time and I was so shocked when Thor asked me to dance. My brother actually took me to the dance floor and as we danced I remember he very clearly shouting in my ear over the disco music “If mom could see us now”. I truly loved the man, he was a great brother. Later he met another woman (I’m going to get my timeline mixed up now and don’t feel its important enough to straighten it out) but he met Angie and later he met and married Charlene. (I don’t remember which came first). Both were great women but without going into a lot of detail and divulging a lot of his personal life I don’t really know about both relationships ended badly, the latter in divorce. Angie had two children and at one time he (Thor) scared her children so badly with his treatment of them during a boating trip that they started crying and begged for him to return to shore, which he refused to do, she said they all felt like prisoners on the boat and were afraid for what might happen. Regarding Charlene, I now absolutely nothing as to why that relationship ended, I just know that she was a wonderful and funny woman and after their marriage ended Thor rarely smiled anymore. He was drinking more and more and didn’t have much to do with any of us and who knows what he was going through but he was obviously depressed. It was during this period in his life, in his 50’s that he quit the job he held for more than 2 decades and at some point he met the mother of his.  Things seemed to get better for him again.

Sarah and Thor lived together for a period and ended up with three children. Things seemed to be getting better again, this was before my brother became angry with me for not testifying against his kids’ mother, I mean he made a family and they were all together. I remember being so happy for him when his kids were born. But then trouble started, the two would be off and on again and you never knew at any given time if they were a family or not. Thor was doing odd jobs, working for wealthy families maintaining their homes for handyman pay. Sometimes he struggled and when my partner had the opportunity to offer my brother a side job at his company that paid him $39,000.00 he never once even thanked him (For those of you in Germany that’s E30,800.00 – Und nicht einmal danke sagen). At the very least we expected my brother might take us out for dinner but no, it was as if my partner had done nothin. My partner could have offered the job to anyone, but he allowed my brother to do the work. Think of it, $39,000.00 (2 jobs, 1 at $25K and one at $14K) and not even a thank you. Yes Mein Wundervoller Bruder was showing his true colors.

Times were often tough financially for my brother and throw in the mix that at any given time he and his girlfriend were separated for whatever reasons that they kept to themselves I wasn’t surprised when my sister-in-lawn ran into my brother’s girlfriend at Walmart buying diapers and other items for my brother’s children using my mother’s bank card. My sister-in-law was familiar with the card because she often used the card to buy my mother groceries. Later my brother’s girlfriend told my sister-in-law that if she couldn’t get financial support from my brother she would take it from my mother. How nice. So obviously this was an “off-again” period during their “on-again/off-again” relationship.

My partner and I would frequently take my mother out. We would take her to lunch or dinner, we would take her shopping. She told us that she so enjoyed her time with us. She would say that she “loved” going out with us and had so much fun. In addition to this my mother LOVED to go gambling in Delaware where at the time was the only legal gambling casino without driving all the way to Atlantic City. Often my mother and my partner (now my husband) would go together to spend the evening gambling… slot machines. I still remember their best night when Ronnie (my partner) came home with $9,000 in winnings and my mother came home with $2,500. I hated and still hate gambling. It bores me to tears. I am serious… when I go to the casino I try to have fun but once there I can’t wait to leave. My mother so loved to gamble that she would often offer money to people to take her. I remember once when she wanted me to go with her and Ronnie I protested and she told me “I’ll give you $100 to play with”… I went and yes I played with my mother’s $100 and lost within an hour and then went out of my mind wanting to leave but stayed because my mother was in heaven. My mother would offer Angie (my brothers former girlfriend, the one who’s children he terrified in the  boat) money. She would give my younger brother and his wife money to take her. Often she would give friends of friends of friends money to take her gambling. Yes… she wanted to go so badly she financed those that would take her and what fool wouldn’t take her up on the opportunity to gamble with free money? And at the same time make her happy doing something she loved. Of course as she aged she became less and less interested in gambling because of the effort it took her to wash up and get ready to go. She reached the point where she no longer thought the effort was worth the trip and no longer asked people to take her to the casinos.

My mother helped out many people during her life. She loaned money to her kids, she loaned money to friends. Some people paid her back others didn’t. I remember my mother telling me that her sister in Georgia borrowed money and didn’t pay it back. She said that when she asked about the money her sister told her she put it in a Christmas card, a card that never arrived. My mother wasn’t a fool and if you didn’t pay her back she wasn’t going to just hand over more cash. She told us that the next time her sister called her for money she told her that she was broke because she loaned all her money to her younger son to for a deposit to buy his house. She told her this in the hopes that it would end the requests for money and she said it worked, her sister didn’t ask for any more money but the result was that my now the rumors flew that my younger (American) brother had caused my mother to go broke. Thor played on what he had learned from his aunt in Georgia and made my younger brother pay the price for money he had never taken. Now I know for a fact my mother paid my younger brother’s mortgage on several occasions, she told me this herself, but I also know that my brother never received money from my mother for a deposit to buy his house, but from what I learned this “gossip” went all the way to Germany. My brother was now a pariah. An American “Pariah”.

There was so much money going back and forth between my brother Thor and younger brother and my mother that I didn’t bother to keep up with what was going on. I love my younger brother but I also know that there were times he and his wife took advantage too, like when my mother and father purchased a new car and my sister-in-law wrecked it, then when they replaced that car my sister-in-law and brother borrowed it and never returned it. My mother said that they made all the payments. When I asked “Why would you ‘give’ them your car” she answered that they needed it worse than she or my father needed it. So my parents literally did not have a car. Think about that… so my younger brother could have a car my parents went without. So this “Dumb American” GAVE yes GAVE my parents a car to replace the car that my parents no longer had. A white Ford Festiva. It wasn’t much of a car but it was a car. We (my partner and I) had 3 cars and a motor-home at the time. The Festiva was paid for so I gave it to my parents. I don’t know what transpired between my younger brother, his wife and my parents in regards to the vehicle but I know that my heart swelled with pride that I was able to help out my mother and father.  However don’t think that Thor allowed my younger brother and his wife to get away with anything. Especially when sitting at my mother’s kitchen table one day he apparently had done something for my mother and pointedly said to my sister-in-law “I did your job” meaning that whatever he had done should have been done by her for the generosity of my mother. Sure this might have been true but who was he to speak? I mean after all, my mother was paying for the diapers on his children.

Okay, before you think I never asked my mother for money I did. But not cash, for financing. Shortly after buying my house my furnace went up. I had no credit or now extra money at the time. The replacement unit was going to cost $3000 and I didn’t have it so I asked my mother if she could help me out, again not with cash, but financing. And she did. But three months after the loan had started I hadn’t paid my mother a dime. One day my mother asked me if I was going to start paying. Yikes! I was struggling at that point and it was hard for me to come up with the money but then I had a brainstorm. Direct deposit. So I changed my direct deposit as work so that $40.00 of my paycheck every week went directly to my mother’s bank account. I no longer had to worry about handing out cash, it was gone and given to my mother before I ever received it. I started this payment in 2004 and kept it going until 2008. My mother asked me several times to stop giving her money but I wouldn’t. I told her I didn’t miss it and she could use it more than I could. She told me the furnace was long paid for but I kept the money going, until I quit my job in 2008. Calculations:  $40 per week x 52 (year) = $2,080.00 x 3 (+/-) years because it wasn’t quite annual = $6,240 – $3,000 = $3,240 on and lets not forget interest… so lets throw in $1,000 for that… so I over paid by about $2,240 (+/-) and don’t forget for a rough guesstimate I paid at least $2,500 in groceries over the years. So now I’m up a car and close to $5,000 in payments. What a horrible son I am. My mother specifically told me that she felt bad because I never took a dime from her when she gave my siblings so much and on at least one occasion tried to give me cash. I refused. I told her I owed her so much over the course of my life that what I had given her so far was no where near what she had given me. And its true. My mother bought things for me over the years (as well as my siblings) she was generous to a fault and there was no amount I could pay her that would fully reimburse her for all she had done for me, but the same could not be said for my brothers or their spouses. I’m not sure if my eldest brother ever profited from my mother’s generosity but she never said anything so I believe that he was free of any repayment obligation. But not Thor, nor the younger.

Now, notice how much I’ve written. These are FACTS people. Test me! Mix things up. Ask me to stand on my head and repeat what I’ve said and the facts will remain the same. You know what Judge Judy says… “If you tell the truth you don’t have to have a good memory” yes, my timelines might be wrong and I might not be true to exact figures but what I have written and what I will continue to write is true or I pray for the spirit of my mother to come to me right now and rip my heart out. Drama? Yes perhaps… but when you do right and people praise the evil, drama prevails… So yes, you might perceive me as an ass, you might hate me for sharing the truth, but I will die free of the guilt and false accusations that have riddled my family since my mother was put in the ground. But wait! There’s more!

When my father died, years before my mother passed, my mother’s sons (Thor and the eldest – I really don’t want to share their real names) where there at his funeral. There was no animosity between siblings at the time because there was nothing to gain, everything that “MY” father left my mother was hers. Now wait before I go too far you should know that my brother the eldest gave my mother and father the deposit that they used to buyMilitary funeral their house. If not for the Elder my parents would not have lived on Sequoia Drive. I want to say this was a good thing, but life was difficult on Sequoia but that’s another whole story… but the long and short is that without my mother’s Eldest German son my parents would not have been able to buy their house. Remember I said that the Elder and I had never profited from my parents and this remains true today. But back to my father. My mother had some insurance to bury my father but she didn’t have much. There was an option to bury my father in some military graveyard but that would have been quite a haul in regards to drive time and my mother was concerned that she would never be able to visit him at that distance. She didn’t have the money to bury him and buy a grave plot. So my partner and I GAVE (YES GAVE) my mother the 2 graves that we had purchased for our own future use. These 2 plots were $3,500. (BTW add this to the car and nearly $5K in cash I gave my mother we are up to approximately $10,000! – for my German readers that’s about E7,855 (=/-) but who’s counting?).

I should probably take a moment to thank my 3 siblings for their contribution to the graves I “GAVE” my mother. But wait. They never offered me a DIME! My father was buried in the plot in which I should have been buried as a gift by me, and one day my mother would lie next to him in a grave which I gifted her. But what of my brothers’ contribution to my parents graves? $0.00! But my gift, generosity or whatever you want to call it means nothing because I only have 50% German blood coursing through my veins while Mein Wundervoller Bruder is 100% German! Sehr Gut!

See “Mein Wundervoller Bruder – Part 2

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5 Responses to Mein Wundervoller Bruder – Part 1

  1. Pingback: Mein Wundervoller Bruder – Part 2 | Turning Things Around

  2. Pingback: Did Thor kill Jord? | Turning Things Around

  3. Pingback: Mid-Life Crisis? | Turning Things Around

  4. Pingback: Then and Now… How Things Have Changed… | Turning Things Around

  5. Pingback: Mid-Life Crisis? | Turning Things Around

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