Big, Black Bike, Last Part

This was a big bike! I had no idea how to learn to ride it.

Carmen and Josefa burst out of the caravan. Carmen clapped her hands. “You got it, you got it! Did Vati really let us have it?”

I nodded.

Josefa pointed toward the merry-go-round. “See that boy over there? It was his.”

Still holding the bike, I said, “Vati give him ten free tickets and two Marks. He was happy with that.”

Carmen grabbed the bike. “Let me try to ride it. I’m the biggest.”

Since I had no idea how to ride such a large thing, I let go. Carmen held it by the handlebars and stared at it. “Can you hold it while I get on it?”

“Yes.” I held on to the bike, but with Carmen trying to get on I didn’t have enough strength to keep is upright. The bike, Carmen, and I landed on the grassy ground.

Carmen picked herself up and scowled at me. “Can’t you hold it steady?”

I stood, too, leaving the bike on the ground. I shook my head. “I can’t. You’re too heavy.”

Josef came closer. “People get on bikes by themselves,” she said. “I don’t think it works if someone holds the bike.”

Carmen stared at the big, black monster on the ground. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll try it by myself.”

She stuck one leg under the crossbar and onto the pedal, and pushed off the ground with the other. The bike moved for a few seconds and crashed again. Carmen jumped off just in time.

To my surprise, she grinned. “I think it will work this way. I rode it for a little while, didn’t I?”

Josefa and I nodded.

“Maybe I could give you a push when you’re ready,” I volunteered.

And that was how we three girls, even little Josefa, learned to ride our bike. For a while, we took turns and pushed each other, and each time we tried, the bike went further.

We rode our big, black bike with one leg under the bar, pedaling as good as we could until we got good enough to ride with our leg swung over the bar, practically sitting on it.

For several years after, when we moved from one town to the next, Vati stashed our precious bike in the pack caravan after he’d packed the dismantled attractions.

Big, Black Bike, Part Two

Our new bike looked a lot like this one, but the fenders were black, too.

With slumped shoulders, we three girls went outside. “Let’s wait for the bicycle. Maybe Mutti will change her mind,” Carmen said.

Josefa nodded. “Yes. Maybe she will.”

I had an idea. “Let’s talk to Vati. Maybe he’s in a good mood and lets us have it.”

Carmen nodded, and as a united front we approached the merry-go-round.

Just then, Mutti’s voice came from the caravan. “Essen kommen, come eat!”

Standing on the ladder, Vati unhooked the last of the protective canvas from the top of the merry-go-round and let it drop to the floor. He came down the ladder, wiping his hands along his pants.

Carmen bent and picked up a piece of the canvas. “I’ll help you Vati.”

“Let it lie until after lunch.”

Carmen walked in step with Vati, with me and Josefa lagging behind. Carmen looked up at Vati. “Can we have a bicycle? We’re old enough.”

“They’re too expensive.”

We had arrived at the steps to the caravan and Vati went up, with us following behind.

In the door, Carmen said, “It’s a used one. The boy only wants five tickets and five Marks.”

He said, “Don’t bother me with that now. Let’s eat.” I thought he sounded thoughtful, not mad.

We sat in our customary seats around the table, and Mutti ladled soup into our soup plates. A plate with buttered bread sat in the center of the table.

As we ate, we children were quiet, and Vati was talking to Mutti about boring stuff like how long they would keep the merry-go-round open tonight. I ignored them, thinking about riding a bike instead. I couldn’t wait to try.

After lunch, it was Carmen’s and Josefa’s turn to take care of the dishes. Vati left to put away the canvas and open the attractions. I trailed after him. As he went down the steps, the boy we had met before came from the side where he had probably been waiting, pushing a big, black men’s bike toward us. He looked at Vati, then focused on me. “Here is the bike. You can have it for five tickets and five Marks.”

I looked up at Vati. “Please? It would be so much fun. And it’s not expensive either.”

Vati bent and inspected the tires. He rose. “Five Marks is too much. How about I give you ten free tickets and two Marks.”

The boy grinned. “Ten tickets! Wow. You can have it for ten tickets and two Marks.” He pushed the bike toward me and I grabbed it by front, under the handlebars.

Vati dug two one-Mark pieces out of his pocket and held them out to the boy. “Come over to the merry-go-round and I’ll get you your tickets.”

They marched off and left me standing there, heart pounding and holding the bike.

More tomorrow!

Big Black Bike

Little Sonja's vision of a new bike

It was a Saturday, late in the morning in 1955, and I was eight years old. Vati was opening the merry-go-round in a small German town whose name I don’t remember, and Josefa and I were walking around on the fairgrounds, looking at the candy stands the locals were opening.

A boy of about ten or eleven came up to us. “Can I have a free ticket?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Vati doesn’t let us give away tickets for free.”

“How about if I give you something for it?”

“Maybe. What do you have?”

“I could give you my old bicycle. But I want five free tickets and five Marks for it.”

Josefa and I stared at each other. A bicycle would be so cool. I was sure we could learn how to ride it.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I have to ask my parents. Can you bring it so we can look at it?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it to your caravan in one hour.”

Josefa and I ran home and burst into the caravan, where Mutti was stirring some soup on the gas stove in the kitchen by the door. Carmen sat on the table doing some homework. From the living room compartment, I could hear baby Eva in her playpen banging some toys.

Josefa pushed past me and said, “Can we have a bike, Mutti? Please?”

Carmen slammed her book shut and rose. “A bike! That would be so great!”

Mutti didn’t quit stirring the soup. “No. Bikes are expensive and we have no money.” She turned to Carmen. “Finish your homework.”

“I am finished.”

I said, “But it would be for all four of us, and when Eva gets older, she can ride it too. Don’t you want us to know how to ride a bike?”

“You’re all a little young still. It can wait a few more years.”

Carmen stashed her book into her satchel and turned to us. “I’m big enough to ride a bike. And Sonja is right. We can all learn to ride it. You could ride it too.”

“It’s way too expensive.”

Josefa pushed forward again. “This boy has one for only five Marks and five free tickets. He’ll bring it to our caravan in an hour.”

“No. Tell him to take it back.”

“At least, you can look at it,” Carmen said.

“I’m busy. Don’t bother me with it. Now go out and play.”

Tomorrow, you can read the rest of the story! 

A new Guest Blog About Carnival Girl

Alice Gold did a really nice job, with pictures, posting my guest blog on her blog I'm So Funny (Sometimes), about how I came to write Carnival Girl. You should head on over there and check it out!

Here is the link: I'm So Funny (Sometimes)

Dark Phantom Review

The Dark Phantom Review, a literary blog, posted a guest blog by Sonja Herbert and a picture of Carnival Girl. Here is the link.

The Dark Phantom Review

Enjoy!

August 30

 Michael and Mutti in 1962

A few days after her fortieth birthday, Mutti left our caravan home and Vati drove her to the hospital in Wetzlar. She stayed there for two weeks.

On August 30, 1960, Michael was born there.

Our carnival route usually took us to the festivities in Wetzlar in the first week of September. That year we arrived in Wetzlar, Vati positioned our caravan, and then took off in the car. He returned two hours later with a glowing and rested looking Mutti and our newest addition to the family, Michael.

We girls, fifteeen, thirteen and twelve, loved our little brother and soon after he came home, we took over his care.

Michael was three when Mutti, we girls and Michael quit traveling the carnival circuit, and four when we finally moved into a real house.

Michael does not remember living in a caravan home, and I, being a teenager and working eight hours a day when he was small, do not remember any of his birthdays in our apartment.

But I remember well the first time I saw him and what happened before he was born. Read all about it in Carnival Girl!

August 20

Mutti when she was thirteen

A week or so after Carmen's birthday, my and my sisters' thoughts turned to the next birthday coming up August 20.

One evening, when I was about eleven, after supper was done and Josefa and I had finished washing the dishes, we sat down on the sofa on the other end of where Mutti was sitting, reading a doctor novel.

"Mutti, what would you like for your birthday?" I asked.

Mutti looked up and smiled. "I don't want much, just some good and obedient children."

I hung my head. I wished I knew how to be good. Whatever I tried, it didn't work out. I'd tried being obedient too, but I often didn't know exactly what Mutti wanted, and sometimes I did, but didn't want to be obedient. I didn't know why.

Josefa nudged me. "But really Mutti, Sonja and I have saved up some money and we want to buy you something."

"All right." Mutti sighed. "If I can't have any good children, maybe something pretty."

I was relieved. I already knew what we could get her. If Josefa and I would combine our savings we would have just enough to get it.

A few days before Mutti's birthday we two went into the town we were in that week. We found a store that sold household goods, and in the window we saw just what we wanted for Mutti. The price ticket on it was a little less than what money we had.

We went inside and asked for it, the Sammeltasse, a small cup and saucer, intricately painted with tiny roses and bordered in gold. It was very beautiful. 

Mutti had had Sammeltassen before, but sooner or later they broke, either during our travels or because of a scuffle we children caused in the kitchen, and which would topple the beautiful cup onto the floor where it shattered.

We paid for the cup and the man in the store carefully wrapped it in old newspaper.

Mutti's birthday came, and after dinner, we children all gave her a small thing we had either made or bought for her. Mutti admired all of it, especially mine and Josefa's cup and saucer. She smiled at us children and patted our heads, and Mutti's birthday, too was over.