Ingeborg loved America and would visit the country for weeks at a time, enjoying its many sights, but always returning to our home for a stay before leaving. A friend recalls seeing her tearful emotion at the destruction of the Berlin wall, (Ingeborg was here at the time) and her joy at the reunification of her country. Then, a year later, her chagrin came through as she lamented the East Germans taking all the jobs and causing her taxes to rise.
She noticed everything. She was free with advice. "Why don't you take more immigrants," she wondered. "You have so much room!" She laughed when we spoke of some German brands as being “quality,” at our improper vertical hanging of the German flag; she brought back to her homeland our custom of waiting in bank lines at a respectful distance, and so on. For many a Christmas, there was a package from Germany with local flavors. A tea set became prized, easily making the cut when we down-sized.
Her English was superb, but some idiomatic expressions escaped as she sought German logic from the English language mess. One summer morning, instead of wearing my usual long pants, I was wearing short pants, you know, Bermudas, shorts. She noticed and commented: “Good morning Stan, It’s such a nice day. I see you are wearing your panties.”
Yes, we miss her.
