Ilona Cole, Story 61

Geisha Doll

My Beautiful Geisha Girl: Part 2

I came to this country in 1954 from Frankfurt/Germany a War Bride as we were called then here in the USA. I met a young lady Clara, who was British and was also a War Bride. We worked together at the Bank in Bellevue. She was a very sweet lady, and we became good friends and stayed friends after I left the Bank. Clara was four years younger than I and had a son, but due to her circumstance he was living with her father and a nanny in England. Her husband, an American soldier had left her, but her religion did not give her the freedom to divorce him and go back to England. After struggling a few years, her situation got more stable and her finances more secure and she sent for her little boy. We were very good friends by then, but later my husband Hal working for AT&T was transferred to the Portland/ Oregon area and we lost contact with each other.  

After twelve years we came back to Seattle, again a transfer with AT&T. We purchased a beautiful Condo in Bellevue. One day I was browsing in the Bellevue Mall and to my surprise there was my English friend Clara. We talked for a while, so happy to have seen each other, but she had to be somewhere, and I had to get back to work. We exchanged telephone numbers and said our goodbye. The following Sunday she came for lunch. I served her favorite brunch Croque Monsieur, beautiful Crenshaw melon slices, sprinkled with Grand Marnier on the side and champagne. As we were lingering over another glass of champagne my dear friend noticed and was staring at my beautiful Geisha doll, which was standing on the buffet. Just a little provenance about this most delicate and beautiful Geisha doll. Hal and I during our time in Vancouver/Washington came to Seattle for a weekend and stayed in the Olympic Hotel. They had in the lobby an elegant jewelry store which carried the most precious and beautiful Asian art. We had noticed many times before, when we had dinner at the Olympic, but the  jewelry store was never open that late at night. That weekend we dared and walked into the store and finally were able to purchase one of these beautiful Geisha ladies. The head was of the finest porcelain and so were the hands. The make-up on the face was exquisite and the jewels in the black hair, real hair were elegant. The one we picked had a red/white silk kimono. We were elated to finally own one of these precious Geisha dolls.

When we finished our lunch, we got up and moved to the living room. I noticed that Clara my friend stayed in the dining room and had the Geisha in both hands, looking into the distance out of the window and had tears in her eyes. When she noticed that I was waiting for her she put the Geisha down and followed me to the living room. The following weeks, if she came to our home, I noticed her fascination with my Geisha and I became curious what this precious lady meant to Clara. We sat down for lunch and after we toasted with a glass of champagne, I asked her what meaning this Geisha has for her it had to be real to her because she always was in thought far away and her eyes got glassy, and she almost would cry. My dear friend told Hal and me her story, her life, her pain, so sad. Her parents divorced in 1941 when Pearl Harbor was bombed by the Japanese. Clara was only ten years old, and her father raised her with the help of a nanny. Her mother was from Japan and her father was an Admiral in the English Navy. He sent her mother home to Japan.  Her life was without the guidance of a mother and growing up she always had her mother

Ilona Cole, Story 60

The Most Holy and Emotionally Rich Season of the Year

The Geisha

Growing up in Germany during Advent Season my family would go to the Cathedral and listen to the wonderful choir and orchestra performing the Messiah. While my husband Hal and I lived in Vancouver, Washington, and I was still working for the two doctors in Longview one of my doctors told me that for the upcoming holiday season the choir and orchestra will perform the Messiah at Saint Mark

Ilona Cole, Story 58

The Bear for Hal

It Does not Matter What the Age or the Gender

It was during the year 2016 when my dear beloved husband Hal had Parkinson disease in the advanced stage. He fell while in the hospital, broke his hip, and had to have surgery for a hip replacement. After some days in the hospital, he then had to enter a rehabilitation place. His stay there was rather long since he had extreme difficulty walking not only because of the hip replacement but also due to his Parkinson disease. Walking was painful for him, and he was very weak. I spent my days with my Hal and some nights, when it was difficult for him to relax and go to sleep, and he wanted me to stay. During those very difficult weeks, my Hal was often talking about a bear, a big brown bear he was sure he had and questioning where the bear was?

I thought first that my Hal was thinking of my own Steiff Bear that he purchased for me as a surprise the first Christmas I was here, replacing mine I had lost during a move. My darling Hal remembered my story I was telling him in Germany. But when I mentioned the Steiff bear at home to my sweetheart, he assured me that HE had a big brown bear and why is he not here with him? I thought right then that I would find and purchase a big brown bear for my Hal and set him on the hospital bed at home, so the bear could greet my Hal when he finally gets to go home, and if my Hal would have to stay much longer, I would bring him there to the Mission Rehab to join him.

It was lunchtime, and my Hal and I were sitting by a table in the dining room at the rehabilitation place waiting for Hal

Ilona Cole, Story 55

Italian Plum Tart

A Wonderful Visit with Katja

It was a beautiful autumn in the year 1968 and my Hal and I decided to fly to Germany and visit not only my sister and family, but also some friends and especially my aunt Katja and her daughter Krimhilde. They were saddened when they heard from my sister Friedl that we had been visiting but did not come to see them. They live in the beautiful area of the Odenwald (Ode to the forest.) Katja was my mother