Das Deutsche Haus

“Grandma,” I said, “Put away Charlie’s stocking. It is a secret and makes everyone too sad. This is St. Nikolas Eve, and tonight I will get another tongue to speak English. You should be happy about that. St. Nikolas Eve is a happy time. Perhaps we can do something for grandfather, too, so he will be happy again.” Grandma pulled me to her and said, “O Johannes, Gott im Himmel (God in Heaven) has made you so smart. Let’s our stocking take to the fireplace and hang. St. Nikolas may bring you a miracle tonight.” So there they hung—a large stocking for me and smaller ones for the rest of the family. Grandfather’s was very small, just the size for his chewing tobacco to fit in, which is probably why St. Nikolas always gave him the same thing every year. Grandmother took me off to bed and we prayed together. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. I thought about Charlie. “Grandmother, is Charlie in Himmel, I mean, Heaven? Did God forgive him for playing with grandpa’s gun?” “Of course, liebchen (sweetheart), God’s love and grace cover our mistakes and accidents. Charlie’s sins were washed away in his baptism. Charlie is waiting for the rest of us. We’ll all join him someday. Now, you get to sleep so St. Nikolas can come.” When grandmother left my room, sleep was far from my mind. I thought about school, and Das Deutsche Haus, my good friend Helena, and poor brother Charlie. I wondered if God let him hunt in heaven, or if he had learned to play a harp. Maybe he was like the hunter from Kurpfalz, and rode around heaven on his horse. Soon the whirling of the day’s activities started lulling me to sleep, but not before I tossed and turned thinking about what St. Nikolas might put in my stocking. That night I dreamed of being in school, and standing in front of my class; I recited the lesson perfectly: “The yellow dog is wet and runs away.” I awoke to the sweet smell of breakfast, eggs, ham, and grandpa’s pipe. Morning arrived. What had St. Nikolas put in my stocking? Running to the fireplace I pulled a chair up to my stocking. I felt the orange and the little chocolate pieces in their shiny wrappings. The hard shelled nuts were there also and I could name each one. Brazil, pecan, hazelnut, but where was my new English tongue? I heard my parents stirring and quickly put the chair back by the table. Soon, mother, father, grandmother and grandfather sat in the living room. Grandfather’s job was to hand out the stockings, probably because he was the oldest, and maybe also because he needed some kind of job now that his cows were gone. I was last, but finally Grandfather gave me my stocking. I clutched it tightly, while father read about Jesus being born in a manger and the angels singing. Then we sang, “Silent Night.” Finally, I turned my stocking upside down. There was the orange, I picked it up and smelled it. I started tasting the sweetness in my mouth even without peeling it. I counted the nuts and put them in a big pile. I tore open two chocolate wrappers and jammed the sweet dark chocolate in my mouth. “Johannes,” my mother said, “Slow down, you will be sick.” But the German Black forest truffles had never made me sick. Their cherry flavor were enrobed by bold dark chocolate and covered in a silky milk chocolate. At least, that is what was written on the outside of the candy wrappers. I could have eaten a thousand without getting sick. Finally, a small red box, wrapped in gold ribbon caught my eye.