An Interesting Conversation With A German

I got the impression that maybe he thought somehow his viewpoint might be compared to that of the Nazis because he was German.

Which is really a shame if he's experienced that with others, especially considering how long ago WWII ended.

After typing that, I guess I should probably qualify that statement by saying it certainly isn't making light of the horrors of the Nazi regime in any way. Just that one can never assume certain things based on where another comes from. Not only did none of us ask to be born, none asked to be born in any particular place, or with any particular outer appearance.

Yes, it takes an open mind on both sides of the dialogue, for sure. One doesn't have to be of any particular background to have had certain "experiences". Dealing with #@$*!#@s happens, no matter who you are or where you're from. I'm not making light of them at all, of course. But building up a figurative wall doesn't help, it only makes things worse.

I believe how one deals with it/them, and how much one truly wants things to change for the better, is what determines your quality of life. [For want of a better term.]

Yadda, people toss out a lot of "cards" these days, and seem to completely disregard the true meaning of a lot of the words used; if they even know what they mean to begin with. And they're used all too often.

I'm a huge devotee of history myself, going all the way back to ancient ages and civilizations. I've always been one of those "inward" people, I guess. I'm sure as heck not patting myself on the back or insinuating I'm perfect in any way, because I'm not at all! [I have a pretty wicked temper, for one thing. I try to control it. But sometimes...]

The closest I can come to describing it is a deep compassion, even for total strangers I have never met, just read or hear about. It can be a curse at times, especially when I was much younger, and would become very frustrated over not being able to control things, or "fix" the world.

Everything from natural catastrophes down through time, to slavery [African and otherwise] to the utter horror of the Holocaust, to things going on all over the world, present day; they keep me up at night, thinking of the humans involved.

How some people can be so careless to make casual comparisons to those who have done truly evil things is beyond me. I suspect all too many of them don't really know why they do; it sounds dramatic, perhaps. They have no idea of the damage it does, or they don't care. The goal is to keep their little walls intact, or maybe it's to simply shut down an opposing point of view with an attempt at "shock and guilt". Hard telling, but it burns me up, too.

I was born at the tail end of the "baby boom" period, to older parents who had married a bit later than most of their peers to begin with. I came along almost a decade after my two older siblings. My parents were from opposite areas of the country [mother from upstate NY, father from LA, with a Danish father and a mother from an old southern family] and I grew up not only feeling as though I had one foot in two different generations, but one in two different worlds.

Long, long story, much too long to even try to condense here. My paternal grandfather was actually old enough to almost have been my great-grandfather, but he probably had the most appreciative approach of all of them. Even at the advanced age he was by the time I knew him, he was so balanced and logical. He didn't come here because of dissatisfaction with his home country; it was more of an opportunity issue. He was an engineer, with an engineer's mind, and his family owned dairy farms.

It was good for me as a young girl to see that in him; that ability to adapt, and to see the positive. I only wish I'd been able to know him longer. By contrast, there were also members of my mother's family who left an indelible mark on her attitudes. Her paternal grandparents were second-generation Germans, their views were a bit different from Jens'. [As in, night and day.] I kid you not: My mother refused to buy a certain boxed pancake mix because the ingredients listed on the box included vanilla. Her grandmother told her that [paraphrased quote] "Jewish people cooked with vanilla, therefore she would not".

Granted, that quote was made back when my mother was still in high school, which would have been the early 1940s. [Not that it makes the remark any more palatable, of course.] But it just boggles my mind today if I think of it. But I can't fault all Germans for that, nor will I hang my head in shame over the fact that this lady was my great-grandmother. I never even met her.

That is why I believe what we as a society pass on to our children is so very important, as well as what we as adults from different backgrounds can learn from each other if we just speak honestly. And by that, I believe the focus should be on the similarities we all share, not the differences.

It is interesting that this man you met has the same name as my grandfather and father. Jens is the Scandinavian version of the name John. The Germanic version is often Johann, or another variant, but like so many names, this man might have either been named after a relative, or perhaps his parents simply liked the name.

My poor father. Having the name "Jens", especially coupled with the 9-letter surname that came after it, was a little odd for a young boy growing up in Louisiana all those years ago. ;) He shortened it to "Jay" as an adult. My maiden surname never failed to cause a raised eyebrow or two when I was growing up, that's for sure. I was still proud of it, but I would never have considered hyphenating anything.

I'm really glad you met your Jens, and commented on it here. And I'd bet he's glad he met you, also.

Nope, no Q. :) [Thought we'd have to cue twilight Zone music for a second there, tee hee.] It begins with an A, and there are only about 5 of us listed in the USA with that particular surname. Two are Swedish, the rest are direct descendants of Jens, Sr.; they're my cousins. It's an easy one to pronounce phonetically, but man... the trouble people had with it even when I was growing up, was amazing.

And he was a "Yens" Jens. For some reason, in the old South a lot of people went by first and middle initials instead of a first name. [I will note it makes genealogy research pretty difficult at times; so many first and middle initials, so many different people. I even see it on old tombstones.]

So my father was known as "J.E.", when he was growing up. That's why he shortened it to "Jay". When he was hospitalized in the early 80s shortly before he died, I noticed they actually has his little wrist band spelled "Jeans". [Which isn't all that surprising in New Orleans, given the French influence/spellings there.] I think that was one of the other reasons he used Jay; it was just easier.

I remember when I first began to study the Holocaust in school. I would want to discuss things with my mother [who was a product of her time, and not a mean person, just... narrow, and quite repressed] and I would get stonewalled. She just didn't want to talk about it. My father was a veteran of WWII [and also Korea] and I was reluctant to bring up the subject to him for other reasons. Combat reasons; the more they see, the less they talk about in general, especially to their young daughters, so I respected that. I will say that his take on it was different from that of my mother's family.

So I can believe this lady you speak of, and the denial. There really isn't anything one can say to someone who just refuses to accept documented truth. It does seem amazing, but I suspect it's a coping mechanism for some. Not that it makes you feel more comfortable around them, of course.

Yadda

I've never heard of Americans with German last names being persecuted!

My mother had a German maiden name and grew up during that time(WWII), yes it happened and most folks don't talk about it. It was surprising to me to find this out especially after I had learned that my grandfather on that side died early due to wounds he suffered FIGHTING the Germans during WWI on the U.S. side.

For her(my mother) at least it wasn't too bad because she was just a teen during those years, so it was mostly just nasty remarks.

seems that its doing more harm than good in the mind of "outsiders" such as myself.

Well the "standard" response I get when asking about that is "You're white you will NEVER understand".

yeah but white to me is the english. i'm of italian decent and way too proud of that heritage to consider myself white.

and its still disgusts me. i'm not even a fan of bright colors. black, grey,blue, khaki, and denim. thats about all i care for unless its on a sports car then yellow or red will suffice.