Chicken Soup

On my first time in an American grocery store, I browsed the meat section and found just what I needed. And it was so much cheaper than in Germany. I proudly carried home a package of chicken hearts, necks, gizzards, and livers to make a wonderful, warm soup for that night.

Again culture shock set in when I presented my new father-in-law with my home-cooked chicken soup. He appreciated it, I could tell, but his eyes were wide in surprise, and he ate very little. 

The next morning the sun shone onto two inches of fresh snow making the small town look as if it were covered with a clean, white feather blanket.

By the time Gary came home four months later, I had weathered a ‘baby shower,’ an unfamiliar custom during which I received gifts for the new baby and made new friends from the church and the neighborhood.

 

Verna is in the back, and Art is kneeling next to Daniel. Dennis and Marja are standing in front of their grandmother.

I had also gotten to know scores of my husband’s aunts, uncles, and cousins. 

And I had given birth to my firstborn son, not at all by myself, but with the help of my new parents. My new Mom and Dad, maybe as culture shocked as I, nevertheless stood by me, helped and guided me through the pitfalls of cultural assumptions, and until they passed away, were my American parents and my best friends.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about the baby shower.