Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Finding Michael - The End


The Six Carnival Children in 1964
From Right to left: Eva, Josefa, Sonja, Michael, Carmen, Franz


I called the sisters again after Christmas. Carmen felt strongly that she needed to see him before writing to him. Josefa hadn’t written, because she didn’t know what to say and it felt funny to her. Eva had gotten my message too late, but she promised she’d write him soon.

We all agreed no to tell our mother, who is now 91, about the fact that we found Michael. Carmen thought it would unnecessarily upset her, and Eva and I agreed that if Mother knew Michael was found, she wouldn’t let it rest. She’d contact him somehow and would tell him something like how he hurt her and how she suffered when he became addicted. Josefa also agreed that mother shouldn’t know.

We never told Mutti, and we all went and visited with him before I returned to my home in the United States.
***
I’m proud of the man Michael has become. He has survived some really bad times, all by himself, he has caught himself and cleaned himself up from things that often kill, and he’s working on improving himself physically and mentally. And what more can a person do? I just hope the rest of the  family will let bygones be, and be as proud of our baby brother as I am.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Come to Costco's in Lehi, Utah Today!




Author Sonja Herbert is autographing copies of her memoir, Carnival Girl today from 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM at Cosco's in Lehi, Utah today. Come and see her there and get an autographed copy of the book and a free bookmark/study guide!



Josefa's Reaction to Finding Michael


 Josefa and I in Germany

Josefa called not long after. “Carmen called and told me you have found Michael,” she said. She wondered how I found him, and I told her.

“He really gave all us a hard time when he was young,” she said. “I remember the last time I saw him. He must have been about seventeen. Mother and he were visiting me in my new home, and while we were talking, Michael went to the bathroom and stayed a very long time. When he came back I went, and you won’t believe what the bathroom smelled like. He smoked something in there, and it sure wasn’t a cigarette. I told him that I don’t appreciate such behavior. They left, and I never saw him again.”

“That’s all over and done now,” I said. “Right now Michael needs positive contact. When you visit or write him, don’t talk about those time. He probably doesn’t remember much of them, anyway.”

“We all had our own problems then, had to worry about making a living and raising a family. We just didn’t have any time to help him. And what could we have done, anyway?”

“Just let’s be proud of him. He’s come such a long way. He’s alive, and that’s something. He’s been drug and alcohol free for years now, or he wouldn’t be able to live where he does. All he wants it to make it to his sixtieth birthday and have a big family party then.”

“I’ll write him for Christmas,” Josefa promised.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Ewa's Reaction to Finding Michael


When I went to Cologne next, I talked to Eva about Michael and showed the pictures. She knew right away who it was. Relief was in her voice when she said, “That’s Michael. I’m so glad you found him.”

“When did you see him last?” I asked.

“Our father had passed away not too long ago, and I discovered I was pregnant and got married. Things were really hectic that year. Mother moved to Stuttgart right about the time Lisa was born and left Michael in a kind of commune with some other boys. A few months later, Michael told me he had left the community and wondered if he could live with me for a while. ‘Sure,’ I said, and Michael moved in. He was seventeen and had quit school, but he didn’t have a job.” Eva sighed and went on. “I still went to school then, and my relationship with Lisa’s father wasn’t that great. In the mornings I made breakfast for all, dropped the baby off at the sitter’s and went to school. Michael did nothing, just lay around the house waiting for me to come home and make supper. When I asked him to do something, he said yes, but things never got done. After supper, he left to go out with his friends and left me with the mess in the kitchen. After a while, I couldn’t stand it any longer and asked him to move out.”

“Was that the last time you saw him?”

“No. I finished school, divorced, and moved to Cologne with the baby. Things went well for me there. I had my own place and a great job at a photo shop. I was saving to open my own shop. One day, Lisa must have been around four, Michael showed up at my doorstep, and I took him in again. He was older, and he’d changed for the worse. He still had no job, and was out a lot with friends. He did not help me at all. One day, when I came home from work with Lisa, I found him standing in the hallway. He seemed to have lost his key. I came closer and he grabbed my sleeve. His eyes were large and the pupils so distended I couldn’t see the natural blue of his eyes. ‘Let me in please!,’ he said. ‘It’s out to get me. Look over there, there it is.’ With a shaking finger, he pointed to the stairs going up. Lisa stared at his finger and started crying. That really scared me. I let him in and let him sleep it off, but the next day, I told him he’d have to find another place to crash. I had Lisa, and I needed to look out for her.”

“That must have been scary,” I said. “I can understand why you sent him away.”

“But I feel so badly now. I wished I would have been able to help him, somehow.”

“You can’t help someone who isn’t willing to help themselves. Anyway, it’s all over and past now. We’ve found him. He got off the drugs all by himself, and now we should start a brand new relationship with him.”

She sighed and gave me a shaky smile. “I’d better start by writing him a letter.”

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Carmen Finds Out That Michael is Still Alive


At home, I attached two of the pictures to an email and sent them to my sisters. I wrote, they should call me when they figured out who the man in the picture was.

Carmen called two hours later. “That picture that you sent, that’s Michael, right? You found him.” Her voice wavered.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s Michael. I found him.”

“You should have warned me. You just sent it like that…” her voice broke. “You should have warned me.”

I felt bad. “I promised not to say anything to anyone, until I spoke to Michael in person. If he wouldn’t have wanted contact with you, I would have to keep this to myself. I’m so sorry I shocked you. I’ve known where he is for over two months, but I couldn’t tell.”

“It was such a shock. How is he doing? Where is he?”

I told Carmen all I knew about him, and that one would have to be careful talking with him, because he was like a child, so sensitive. He probably didn’t remember much about his bad years, and he was so proud of himself right now.

Carmen and I talked a long time. She told me the last time she saw him, her daughter, now 38 years old, had just been a little girl, and her first son a baby. Michael helped her and her husband in the shooting gallery for a few weeks, but when Manfred and Carmen asked him if he would want to work for them on a more steady basis he declined and didn’t return. “We didn’t know how heavy he was into drugs by then already,” she said. “But Eva knew.”

Friday, August 3, 2012

I Found Michael!

Michael Today
 
We arrived at the shelter’s address, and I was flabbergasted. The shelter consisted of several large apartment buildings, clean and well-kept, with lawns and sidewalks. In the main building, a small office awaited us, and the man in the office knew right away who we were and whom we wanted to see. He told us which building my brother lived in and his apartment number, and we set off.

When we knocked at his door, an older man opened the door. He turned out to be Michael’s roommate. He showed us Michael’s room, and told us we could wait there. Michael had just stepped out and would be right back. We didn’t feel good about that, and left again, hoping to find Michael outside. I walked back toward the office, and when I turned around to call to my husband, I saw a man come up the walkway. The way he looked and walked reminded me strongly of my father, and I knew I finally had found my little brother.

“Michael,” I said, ran up to him and hugged him.

“You’ve grown heavier,” Michael said. He stood back and looked at me.

I introduced my husband, and Michael took us up to his apartment. He showed us the kitchen and invited us to sit. He’d bought a Christmas Stollen especially for us, and offered to make us hot chocolate to go with it.

As we sat and ate, I showed Michael the pictures. He glances at them and asked me how many nieces and nephew he had. We counted them and came up with 15, 6 of them in the United States. Michael took a piece of paper and a pen and carefully wrote it all down. I had him write down my address in Germany and in America, too.

“I have lots to do here,” Michael said. “But I might write you.”

He told us about the community he lived with, that he went to counseling twice a week, and had taken Chinese language lessons for about eight years. “All the way from beginner to advanced,” he proudly told us.

He went downtown to the inner city two or three times a week. “With my bike, because I don’t have a car,” he said. He’d walk around and look at the people and the shops. “I get €10.00 a day,” he said. “It adds up if you don’t have much you want to buy.”

“What would you like to have for Christmas?” I asked.

“Nothing, really. I have everything I need right here.”

I offered a nice sweater, and he said he already had enough to wear.

We spent a pleasant hour, and then I could tell Michael started to worry a bit. So we took some pictures. We assured him we would write and made sure we had the right address. I told him I’d see him again before returning to the States, and we left.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Finding Michael - 5


 Michael and Vati as I remembered them

Christmas was getting closer. I thought maybe I should send Michael a package, even if he didn’t want to see me, or my husband and I could go see him, just get there unannounced.

But I reconsidered and tried calling one more time. At the very least, his caseworker could let me know what Michael needed or wanted and I would send him a Christmas present. This time, a different, friendlier, man talked to me.

“Why do you want to see Michael?” he asked, and I explained all over again that I was his sister, come from America, and hadn’t seen him for almost forty years. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I’ll understand,” I said. “But maybe you could tell me what he would like to have for Christmas, and I could send him a package.”

“Why don’t you give me your number,” the man said. “I’ll forward it to Michael, and if he wants to talk to you, I’ll make sure he will. If he doesn’t, I’ll call you within the next two hours or so.”

Not holding a lot of hope, I gave him my phone number, and the waiting started again.

When the phone rang two hours later, I knew it would be Michael. I had no doubt. I answered, and the same friendly voice said, “Hold on a minute, Mrs. Herbert. Your brother wants to talk to you.”

Michael sounded nervous and excited. When I asked him if I could visit him, and we could go out to have some coffee and cake, he told me he didn’t drink any alcohol or coffee, and needed to watch what he eats. “But you can come and visit me in my home, and I’ll have some Christmas cake for you. For an hour or so,” he added, and I knew he was wondering how I would treat him.

We made out a time the next Sunday, and hung up. All that week, I worried about what to talk to Michael about. I decided not to ask him anything about his past. That was for him to bring up. Finally I selected some photos of my children, and some old photos of Michael, and decided to tell him all about the States.