The Ending of the Mystery Story (Chart I – III)
The mystery story should rather be called mysterious, perplexing and horrifying. The reader might question the audacity and recklessness on my part to send such a horrible piece of writing to my girlfriend. What kind of love letter was this supposed to be?! How would a girl, just 19 years old, respond to the horrors of a subterranean cave dweller other than with total rejection of the young suitor, who had just revealed his otherworldly distorted sense of reality?
As it turned out Biene was deeply touched by the story, even though it did not have a good ending. But she had the advantage of getting the entire story in one piece. She also found that the story was based on a real event that took place at our yard back home, when I was on a weekend leave from the West German army. Uncle Günther was upset that mice had dug deep tunnels into the ground and if unchecked would have eventually ruined the wonderful lawn of the backyard. I witnessed how he flushed out the mouse with the garden hose and stomped on her as she was trying to escape out of her flooded den underground.
Sorting out some old documents, I came across a handwritten booklet of the mouse story and thought it might be of interest to some of the readers of my blog.
Plötzlich blendete sie grelles Tageslicht. Mit einem Satz sprang sie hinaus ins Trockene, in die Freiheit, ins Leben. Keuchend und zitternd vor Atemnot, aber glücklich für das zum dritten mal geschenkte Leben, lag die Frau da, bemerkte zu spät den dunklen Schatten, der vernichtend auf sie niederhieb. Kein Zufall, kein hier und dort treffender Schicksalsschlag, höhere Absicht bis in die letzte Einzelheit gewollt, begründet auf einen unerklärlichen Zorn, waren ihre letzten Gedanken, die ihr durchs Gehirn schossen. Der Hieb des unbekannten Gewichts saß haargenau. Es entschwand sogleich wieder in die blaue Höhe, um das Opfer gleichsam höheren Blicken freizugeben. Bestimmt schon tot, wenn auch das bloßgelegte Herz noch tüchtig pochte. Das Blut, das nach allen Seiten gespritzt war, färbte das welke Gras mit grellroter Farbe. Unter dem plötzlich schweren Druck sprizte nicht nur Blut in die Natur. Der Leib hatte die innere Last nicht mehr halten können. Umgeben von zuckendem Gedärm lagen blind und nackt die ungeborenen Kinder auf dem Geröll der Erde! Welch ein erschaudernder Anblick! Kann einem Menschen soviel Leid geschehen, wie es dieser jungen Maus geschah?
Mit lässiger Fußbewegung stieß der Mann die Überreste der Maus in das Loch zurück. Sie war ihm schon lange ein Dorn im Auge gewesen und hatte ein großen Teil seines Ziergartens unterwühlt. Nun holte er den roten Gartenschlauch aus dem Nachbarloch und spülte die blutigen Körperfetzen in den Schlund zurück. Zufrieden steckte er sich seine Pfeife an und sog den aromatischen Duft in seine Lungen. Die Schuld war beglichen.
Getting to Know our Family through Pictures
Chart II a + b, II
From left to right you see copies of messages sent in 1967 by my mother Erika Klopp, Aunt Maria Kegler, Aunt Lucie and Uncle Günther Kegler in Watzenborn-Steinberg across the Iron Curtain to Edda in the former German Democratic Republic. The quotes containing words of wisdom in German and the poems are typical and characteristic of the entire Kegler clan.
Mystery Story in German
Kein Unterschied, Homunkulus!
By Peter Klopp
After Biene and I had met for the second time at Lake Baldeney (near Essen, Germany) in July 1964, I composed for her the following short story. I deliberately left out the final two paragraphs to give all my readers a chance to ponder about how the story will end. If you want to place your guess into the comment section, that would be cool. I will publish the end of the story on Wednesday’s post. My apologies to all, who don’t know German. But it would have been too time-consuming to translate such a lengthy piece of writing.
Paps war ausgegangen, Nahrung zu holen. Eigentlich war er noch kein Vater, aber sie nannte ihn so, und das war entscheidend. Tief unter dem Erdreich saß sie in der gemütlichen Stube und betrachtete liebevoll ihren Leib. Sie dachte an die Kinder, die da kommen würden, und horchte still in sich hinein, ob sie nicht vielleicht schon ein zartes Pochen der Herzchen vernehmen könnte. Ihre schwarzen Äuglein leuchteten zufrieden, sie ging ihrer Erfüllung entgegen.
Und wo aber auch?! Mit keinem Palast dieser Erde hätte sie die so nützlich und sicher angelegte Wohnung getauscht, die ihr Mann in unermüdlicher Arbeit aus dem Erdreich gestampft hatte. Er hatte für alles gesorgt: Die Kinderzimmer grenzten mit ihren niedlich ausgerundeten Eingängen an die gute Stube und das Schlafzimmer der Eltern. Mit ihnen verbunden war ein lang sich erstreckenden Gang wohl drei Körperlängen hoch und mehr als dreißig solcher Längen lang, in dem die Kinder ungestört herumtollen könnten, wenn sie erst einmal ein wenig größer geworden sind. Und was den kommenden Winter anbetraf, so hatte ihr Mann mehr getan als alle Männer dieser Welt. Die Kornkammer war zum Bersten voll, genug, um eine zwölfköpfige Familie den Winter durchzubringen. Das wäre alles jedoch kein Weizenkörnchen wert gewesen, wenn nicht der umsichtige Vater auch für die Sicherheit gegen Wetter und Feind gesorgt hätte. Continue reading
The Klopp Grandparents Part III
Emma Christiane Klopp (née Bauer) – Chart I -I
1856 – 1941
Adapted from Eberhard Klopp’s Family Chronicle
The miller’s apprentice Peter Friedrich Klopp became acquainted with Emma Bauer, the daughter of the factory inspector Friedrich Wilhelm Bauer, born in Groß Ottersleben on March 3, 1818. Her father had moved to Jersleben, where he died on April 4, 1886. Emma at the time of his death was only 12 years old and was the fifth child out of her father’s marriage with Rebecca Sophie, who died in Wolmirstedt in 1898.
What brought Emma’s family originally from the Würzburg area to Jersleben, author Eberhard Klopp explains in his ‘Letter to the Descendants’ as follows:
Already blessed with four children Emma’s parents lived from at least 1855, most likely even sooner, in Rottendorf near Würzburg. In this village the wealthy Jewish Würzburg banker Joel Jakob von Hirsch managed an increasingly flourishing sugar factory. The socially conscious entrepreneur and owner of a large estate ‘wanted to provide a livelihood for lower class people, for he was kindhearted toward the poor people.’ Von Hirsch’s declared intention was to make the South German market independent of ‘the dominant North German sugar factories.’ To this end he hired specialists from Magdeburg, Cologne, Baden and Holland. An additional incentive was the voluntary health insurance fund established by the factory owner for the workers and their family members of his Rottendorf plant. This, at that time, was a rare, but socially groundbreaking undertaking.
Attracted by such favorable and promising working conditions, the Bauer family settled in Franconia probably until the shutting down of the Rottendorf plant. There in House No. 3 (Dürrhof}, property of the aforementioned banker Emma Bauer was born,
Unfortunately, due to a shortage of water it was no longer possible to process sugar beets. The production was shut down, which was a major cause for the Bauer family to relocate in the sugar beet region in the north near Magdeburg.
To be continued …
The P. and G. Klopp Story
Chapter 5 – Part II
At the end of June I had grown into a feisty, likable character bringing joy into everybody’s heart with my entertaining giggles. Indeed I had a lot to be happy about. By now, I received already a real dinner, first spinach, then mashed strawberries and Mother’s own milk for dessert. Occasionally she would give me a portion of semolina porridge with juice, and I had carrot juice every day. What a wonderful life!
Now Karl came home from his boarding school in Belgard for the summer holidays. He happened to greet me, when I was at my very best behavior. I had woken up from a very good sleep, just had my favorite meal and presented to my oldest brother the sweetest smile I could muster. He was so delighted that he stood in front of my crib for a long time, while I was laughing at him, babbling endless stories while gazing at him with wondering eyes. At last Karl was allowed to pick me up and to hold me in his arms. He even granted me a little brotherly kiss. Continue reading


