Home is where the heart is

My father’s mother, Hannelore Jeannette, was born in Munich, Germany in 1939.  As the only child in her immediate family, my grandmother grew up spending most of her time by herself.  Beginning at a young age, she was sent to live with her elderly grandparents for the duration of World War II. It was not uncommon for her to be left home alone. As with many only children, my grandmother learned to value self-sufficiency, hard work, and even solitude.

It was only until the war was over that she was reunited with her parents, but only for a few short years.  The increasing American presence in Germany after the war inadvertently led to a new job for Hannelore’s father, which entailed running a local villa they had turned into an officers’ club.  Soon after, an opportunity for work in America presented itself and her father accepted. After she graduated eighth grade, Hannelore and her mother moved to Chicago.

My grandmother’s arrival to a foreign place, from a country that was recently an enemy of the United States no less, posed novel challenges—strange food, unfamiliar faces, and a new primary language. Just two weeks earlier, she was torn from her friends and family; but because she was only a child of thirteen, no one asked her if a brand new life in America is what she wanted.

Hannelore was rejected by both the public and Catholic high schools in Chicago, primarily due to her lack of proficiency in English.  Although she had studied it in Germany for four years, the American schools seemed unwilling to accept her training as “enough.” With few options, her parents decided to send her to an all-girls boarding high school run by French Canadian nuns, outside of Kankakee. There, she excelled, most specifically in mathematics. 

Undoubtedly, Hannelore’s recent arrival, poor conversational English, and subsequent academic success were a combination that posed an unwelcome threat to some of her classmates, though some proved patient and understanding. Despite mixed support from her peers, she graduated fourth in her class of twelve young women.

Having been asked and expected to navigate her new life in the United States by herself, time and time again, my grandmother developed an appreciation for privacy and self-reliance.  It was not until she married a German man just eight years ago that she finally lived with someone.

Without any planning, Hannelore, whom I call “Oma”, now finds herself surrounded by Germans.  Most of her neighbors who live on every side of her property in Navarre either were born in Germany or married a German.  Thus, she has been able to be a part of a community of friends that speak her language, know her culture, and have experienced the challenges of moving overseas.  While the initial appeal of retirement to Florida may have been the cheap property and warm weather, the bond my Oma has rekindled lies in the welcoming and familiar community she has found just next door.