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November 14^th A Very Special Day

Frankfurt/Germany November 14^th,1953 was the happiest day of my life. But not for long, after a ten-day honeymoon I had to say goodbye again to my beloved Hal, my new husband. His time in the Armed Forces was up and he was being shipped out from Bremer Haven, going home to the United States, Seattle in the state of Washington, his home. I had to stay behind to wait for my Visa and entry permit to follow my Hal to Seattle, my new country and my new home.

Siggi, my dear friend, agreed to be my Maid of Honor and Hal had a good buddy of his from the Signal Corps be his Best Man. My bridal gown, I had designed, was ready and my sister’s husband Georg got Hal a beautiful tuxedo and all other items that my Hal needed for that special day. We were all set and all I had left to do was to get my dear friend Siggi her dress and shoes etc. German customs require that the bride provide all this for the Maid of Honor. Siggi came the weekend before our wedding, and we went shopping in Frankfurt for her. She found a very beautiful dress, shoes and a small purse.

After shopping we met my Hal with his “Best Man” at the Hauptwache, the center of the city of Frankfurt and together we had lunch at Kranzler Café. It was a happy occasion and the four of us had champagne to start our little celebration together. Hal ordered a fine red Burgundy, suggested by our waiter, and the Filet Mignons were done perfect with a beautiful cognac sauce. The happy conversation stopped, and it got very quiet. A sign of exceptional and excellent food. As we were enjoying food and wine we had violin music in the background, performed by a gentleman, dressed in a tuxedo, sitting on a stool close by the concierge.

While we were waiting for our dessert and espresso, we talked about our honeymoon to Switzerland for ten days. Seeing all the beautiful sights and getting to know one another better before we had to part. When my Hal starts his journey home, I will go back to work at the Head quarter’s building in Frankfurt where I had been working for over five years, until my visa and paperwork will arrive and I am granted entry into the United States, joining my husband in Seattle, my new country, my Hal’s country.

The dessert was equally delicious as our lunch, the dessert plates were a “Still Life” with a piece of mocha/chestnut crème torte centered and around it, cherries, strawberries and pieces of banana, dipped in chocolate ganache. A beautiful presentation of dessert!

After we said our goodbye to Siggi at the train station, Hal and his buddy took a taxi back to their barracks and I walked home. The following Friday, the 13^th was our first wedding day at the courthouse for German law. We all went to dinner after the short ceremony. The next day, the 14^th of November was “THE DAY” our wedding day in a most charming and beautiful American chapel.    

          

                            

My heart was pounding, and I was scared. Scared, that I might not be able to follow the sentences spoken by the American Chaplain, maybe misunderstand or mispronounce it and Hal’s buddies, sitting all in the front row, would laugh…

Well, it all went well until the end, after the chaplain finished. I did not hear what he said, I was finally breathing, relieved, it was over, nor do we have this custom “kissing the bride”.

                                                                                                                                 

Hal stepped up, reached for me, pulled me close to kiss me.

My reaction? My surprise? I stepped back, stiffened up, arms down my sides, saying: “What are you doing Sargent Halvor Cole?”

After explaining it all to my Hal and all his American friends, I recovered, and we all left the chapel to go and celebrate. We had all our guests together with music in the background, lively conversation and laughter. We served a wonderful “Wedding Punch.” I soaked cut-up peaches in cognac overnight, poured champagne into a big crystal bowl and added the peaches. We served a beautiful wedding cake with coffee after.

The next morning, we took a train to Switzerland, first stop, Basel. We celebrated our lifelong commitment to one another, both hearts, souls and minds in unison for sixty-four years of love and happiness.

Sgt. Lesher, Ilona, Hal, Siggi and flower girl, Sophia

Note from Marcie: I so love this story and the beautiful pictures to go with it–I hope you enjoy Ilona and Hal’s wedding tale and the accompanying pictures as much as I did.

One of Those Many Callouts

It was the year 1963 and my husband, Hal, working for AT&T was transferred from Seattle, Washington to a brand-new facility, a Radio Communications center built in North Bend, at the base of the Cascade Mountains. The original crew of six technicians were a close-knit group and the callouts for trouble shooting during some nights were covered by them equally and fairly.

This night a callout came for my Hal, he answered, and I heard him say:” I will be on my way.”

Usually I got up too, when a call came during the night, if it sounded that it could be a long while, whatever the problem could be with equipment and may take longer, I would make coffee and something to eat for my Hal to take, to be prepared for a long night. All the transmitter and repeater huts were along the Cascade Mountain ridges and had to be maintained. A locked gate at the entrance was to keep unauthorized people out. When Hal got to the gate that would lead to the station called “Rattle Snake Ridge” he found the gate open, and a car parked by the gate. All six employees had two-way radios, they needed to communicate with one another, when out on a call to the different radio sites.

Hal contacted his buddy, Neal, recognizing his car to find out what was wrong with a piece of equipment and if he needed anything from the office, before Hal would start up the mountain. My Hal found out…NO… there was nothing wrong with any equipment. His buddy, Neal was out hunting that evening, shot a bear and had trouble securing and bringing this bear down the mountain to his car. Neal had a little flat bed, sat the bear on it, but had nothing to keep the bear on that “contraption.” He needed another person to keep the bear from falling off.

Hal helped his buddy secure the bear and used a flashlight to show them the path. Finally, they made it all the way down to the gate and got the bear secure into Neal’s car.

When my Hal came home, I got up to see that he was alright and when he told me this absurd, oh so funny story with vivid descriptions, we both started laughing. Neal, Hal’s buddy, always went hunting and foraging for food. He and his wife had nine children.

Too bad there were no phones yet, like we have now. A picture of all three of them, a dead bear, sitting on a board upright, Neal behind holding on to the bear and Hal walking in front pulling the board and holding the flashlight. Priceless!

The Little Apple Tree

After my husband, Hal and I (Ilona) retired, we decided to leave the city life behind and move to a quieter place with less rain to the eastside of the Cascade Mountain Range to a small town by a beautiful lake called Chelan. After a long search and process, we found the house we wanted. No stairs, all one floor, two large bedrooms, two bathrooms, a beautiful big library for my Hal, a very large kitchen, living and dining room and an attached double garage. The outside was white stucco, and it had a red tile roof.

After the inside was all remodeled, we were very pleased to move in. The house was finished and was now awesome. The outside needed to be completed now. My Hal wanted some trees in the yard, and we found two beautiful cherry trees, one of them was a weeping cherry. Hal also wished for an apple tree, to harvest his own apples for apple pie which he loved.

The little apple tree of course did not bear fruit the first and second harvest times. Hal showed patience, he was waiting and often went to check out the blossoms, still no apples followed. But the following autumn, oh so happy was my sweetheart when he discovered after the blossoms came the actual fruit. He looked at his tree every day, most likely counting apples and looking forward to the harvest day!

My Hal took a wicker basket and I, with a sober face, not laughing at the size of that basket, wished him luck for this harvest day and thinking of this gigantic basket coming back in with a few apples in the bottom of it. Good thing, I did not laugh, the joke would have been on me.

While Hal was harvesting his apples, our neighbor’s cat “Boots” came out to visit my Hal and they had some petting time. Boots liked Hal, whenever our neighbor would be gone for a few days, my Hal would look after him and feed him. They became good friends. Boots had a beautiful black coat and had four white paws. Boots came out to explore the apple tree, keep Hal company and made sure every apple was picked.

When my sweetheart came into the house and into the kitchen, he was all smiles. From the cold air outside Hal’s face was red cheeked, a big happy grin on the face, eyes shining with happiness. He put the basket, FULL of apples on the counter and said:

                                       “Apple Pies Please!”

Two Professors, Dr. Stern and Dr. Eckhart

Two very important people in my young life, outside my family. I had talked of these two professors in my short stories before. Both had a big part in who I had become after my education and beyond. In thought they were always by my side, when the job was a challenge, was unknown or at times looked impossible to complete. I received an education that was rigorous, challenging, complete and well rounded. Dr, Stern not only taught us a full curriculum, but also taught us the finer things in life, outside the school. His love of good books, the opera, music and stage plays, all that he exposed us to and made it part of everyday life.

Dr. Eckhart was our English professor. Teaching us English composition, like law briefs, court documents and how to write business letters. English history and English literature. He also stressed the point how important to commerce this language was. I also heard that from my father, quite often.

Both professors were quite different individuals and very interesting men.

As they stepped into the classroom, everyone fell silent. Their presence was, in a dignified way, loud and clear.

Dr. Stern, very dignified, but soft spoken. Always dressed in three-piece suits of great materials and custom tailored, like my Hal’s suits he got from my sister’s husband, his Haberdashery in Germany. Custom made shirts with his monogram embroidered on the French cuffs and always highly polished shoes.

Dr. Eckhart did not wear suits, always beautiful slacks, again great material, like the designer of men’s clothing, Joseph Abood. Sport coats of either leather, suede or tweed. Mostly in brown or rust color. The tweed coats were mostly in two-tone grays.

Both professors were well dressed and well groomed, setting a good example for the young students in class.

The lectures were not only interesting, but they were also mesmerizing and both professors could keep the attention of the student’s alert. Each had  different styles. Professor Stern would stand by his Pult “desk” and had an easy, relaxed way of approaching a student, like it was a conversation one on one, looking at the student over his glasses. Professor Eckhart was walking back and forth in front of his Pult “desk” sometimes gazing out of the windows and then, quickly turning, approaching the student, and asking the question. They were two individuals, different and yet, had a profound teaching method, which influenced every student and had a lasting impression on every one of us.

These two gentlemen, retired quite a while ago, were very wise and had a lifetime of teaching young students while also learning a lot themselves. They were called and appeared to do the job, young teachers could no longer do, due to fighting for their country and so many giving their lives, while these older gentlemen were holding vigilance at home and repeating their lifelong dedication to teaching the young.

What the sad ending is to this wonderous experience is that we lost so many of these great students, they never had the chance to show their stuff, to experience the fruit of their labor, as I did.

But I shall never forget who influenced my life in such a powerful way, other than my father.

It was Dr. Stern and Dr. Eckhart!

Diorissimo Perfume… “Shocking” Perfume by Schiaparelli

Two beautiful perfumes, two beautiful fragrances, I used in my younger years at different times. One was no longer available, when I came to the United States. “Shocking” by Elsa Schiaparelli, the bottle, French Art Deco, inspired by an hourglass, the shape of a female torso or dressmaker dummy, one could occasionally still find in large department stores with a fine perfume counter. Diorissimo is still available today. Both have a heavenly fragrance.

I lost my beloved husband Hal of 64 happy years six years ago and at that time, I moved into a small apartment. I have no room for clutter or filling up the desk drawers with clutter. I was clearing out some cards, notes and pictures, accumulated from previous times. One picture I had not seen for many years but remembered it well. I tried to think where it came from. I remembered taking some pictures out of my Hal’s wallet, since I wanted to give the soft leather wallet to Marcus, my dearest niece’s eldest son, for his birthday.

To my amazement I remembered that picture of me when and where it was taken but did not realize that my Hal had kept one of them for all these years. The picture was taken for a job offer I had as “Photo model” for an advertising company, a French firm, representing Diorissimo and Schiaparelli Perfumes here in Germany where I resided. It was of course before television. Throughout the cities were tall, round pillars for “Reklame” advertising. Large department stores also had, like movie theaters, screens above the entry with moving advertisements. The Fashion House of Schiaparelli in Paris showed the fashions created at that time, in the 1940s and 1950s by Elsa Schiaparelli, Italian fashion designer.

I had no idea that my dearest Hal carried that snapshot of me from the late 1940s. Not ever having a reason, nor would I ever think of looking into my husband’s wallet, therefore I did not know that he so treasured this little photo. I remember well the dress I wore and where the picture was taken. The dress had three parts in a soft, beautiful, light weight Burgundy color wool. A stunning fitted skirt, a slit in the back with French pleats. A bodice, no sleeves, no straps, straight across with beaded embroidery at the top. An “Ike Jacket,” as they were called then, short to the waist only, long sleeves, lapels with beaded embroidery.

I modeled for this Agency a few years and like the fur modeling I called it quits once I met and became friends with Sgt. Halvor LeGrand Cole. It was for me far more important and rewarding to spend my time with my Hal, than fur or perfume modeling.

It was so long ago, but seeing this little picture now brought back to me that time so clearly. It is so nice to relive, but so sad my Hal is no longer here to share the memories and remember them with me.

A Tragic Opera by Puccini, “Madame Butterfly”

It was opera season in Seattle and my dearest friend and niece Marcie, and I looked so forward to seeing Madame Butterfly, Puccini’s opera, with the most beautiful aria sung by Cio Cio San, a soprano, the Butterfly.

The message of the tragic opera premiered February 1904 at the La Scala in Milan, Italy. Set in the early 20^th century, Madame Butterfly explores themes of love, heartbreak, betrayal and cultural differences.

This enduring tale encapsulates a tragic love story between a young Japanese girl, called Cio Cio San and an American Naval officer, Pinkerton. In Italian the famous song Butterfly sings: “Un bel di, vedremo,” a soprano aria by Giacomo Puccini, set to a libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa.

The music of this song is touching and gives one goosebumps and tears. It touches your heart and soul.

Marcie and I enjoyed this lovely, but also very sad story, and I was painfully reminded that this story could be told about young English ladies, or young German ladies, called “War Brides” who experienced such tragedies after WWII.

We all take chances when it comes to love at least once in one’s lifetime.

Poor Butterfly, her love did leave her and her two-year-old son and married an American lady, leaving Cio Cio San feeling betrayed and in despair and out of her desperation, she takes her own life. Such a beautiful setting, but such a tragic story.

It reminded me of my, long ago, British friend, Clara. Her mother, Japanese married a British Naval officer, who then when Pearl Harbor was bombed, sent her mother back to Japan and Clara was left without her mother and she suffered terribly with that loss.

Marcie and I enjoyed this tragic love story, especially the touching, but beautiful music, was very emotional. It touches one with so many different feelings throughout, from love to despair, from loving someone to betrayal.  It was a day in our lives that will be unforgettable.

Fond memories!

Note from Marcie: I enjoyed that evening so much, from the glass of champagne before the Opera began to the moving and beautiful opera–so powerful, and so very sad. I took the above “selfie” of me and Ilona as we were waiting for the opera to begin that night! Thank you, Ilona, for the priceless gift of your love and friendship, and for all the wonderful memories together, and for your wonderful stories to help us remember or celebrate those memories with you.

André Rieu Summer Concert in Seattle

Our dearest friends, Karin and Karl, joined my husband, Hal and me, Ilona, in this never-to-forget concert in Seattle with the well-known violinist André Rieu and his amazing orchestra. We got together for a nice supper in our apartment in Bellevue first.

I set a festive and inviting table and my Hal served the champagne. I had made a baked Brie with the most delicious D’Affinois, triple cream French cheese and a homemade, melt-in-your mouth crust. On top of the crust, I put a cut out of a music note to get our attention to this upcoming, exciting concert, we were privileged to hear tonight.

It was to be so much more to hear it with our dear beloved friends Karl and Karin. It was a lovely way to spend an evening and it only could have been more romantic if it had been outdoors like it is in the summers in Europe. Like a beautiful summer night with a little cool breeze, sounds at times by little birds visiting, or an owl up in a tree. Getting cool by the second part of the concert and one would feel good, wrapping a large shawl around one’s shoulders or a little jacket, a beautiful cashmere scarf, taking the chill away, but also it would look smart. What keeps one warm too is the rhythm and tempo of Rieu’s music.

But here in the Seattle area we have an opera house, a music hall or sport stadium arena. No beautiful park, sound of water from a fountain or a grassy meadow.

We had our seats up high, the sight of the individual players not too clear, but it was a concert, not an opera or operetta or stage play, one just sits back and enjoys the beautiful music. They had also large screens on both sides of the stage to give the audience a clear view. The concert was entertaining, mesmerizing and gave us all a warm and wonderful feeling.

The Rieu concerts shown on television always attract a lot of viewers, listeners and people with love in their hearts and souls. This was a gift, a wonderful fairytale emotion. It stayed in our hearts during and after the concert, on our way home and a long while into the future. I was still humming the tune of some of the selections of this lovely music the following days.

Bravo! Mr. André Rieu.

My Realization

It was February 14^th, 1954, Frankfurt/Germany. I, Ilona, had gotten married to a wonderful American gentleman, Halvor Le Grand Cole on November 14^th, 1953. My new husband, Hal, had served his three years and according to a law of the Armed Forces, marrying a German national, the soldier then must leave Germany. Hal’s three years were up, December 6^th and he was shipped out from Bremer Haven with a troop ship going back to the United States, Seattle, Washington, his home.

I had to wait until after we were married for my Visa and entry permit into the United States, which sometimes takes six to eight months. But my waiting time should be shorter, since I worked for the American Armed forces, General Eisenhower’s Supreme Allied Command Headquarters in Frankfurt, Germany, and for that job I had been cleared for classified and top-secret work.

The call from the American Consulate came in on February 14^th for me to come by, that my application was approved, my Visa was ready, and my voyage could now be scheduled.

I asked my Colonel if I could have an hour off and told him the reason. He of course said yes, and had his Aid drive me to the consulate, and the Aid waited and brought me back to the office. I had a wonderful boss, a very nice Colonel I worked for, for over five years. My interview at the consulate went well in the beginning, all my paperwork was complete, but when it came to my “travel plan” I was told that the first dependent ship that would have a space for me would sail in May and if an American dependent would want it, I would be bumped.

I called my Hal with this news and told him that it would be a while. He was not happy, and we decided that I would get a ticket with TWA and fly from Frankfurt to New York and a domestic flight to Seattle in the State of Washington, my Hal’s home and my new home. The first flight I got a seat on was February 26^th leaving from Frankfurt International Airport.

On a Friday afternoon I received a phone call from the TWA office, here in Frankfurt, to come by to pick up my ticket and seating assignment. I left work and, to relax a bit, I walked from the headquarters building through a beautiful park through the center of the city and right before the train station was TWA.

As I entered, a nice lady waved at me to come to her window.

I suddenly, like a bolt of lightning struck me, realized what I had done!

I could not believe what I had done!

I started crying and the lady, thinking I feared flying, came out from behind her window, put her arm around me and walked me over to a seating area to sit down. She wanted to give me assurance that flying would be safe, not to fear, “it is safer than driving on the Autobahn (Free Way) every day.”

 I assured the nice lady that I would be alright and asked her if it was fine with her if I walked to the train station to take my train home. She asked if I was alright to go by myself or she would send someone with me to accompany me to my train.

I left with my ticket, still crying, saying to myself “What have I done?” Everything seemed to move so quickly, getting to meet that wonderful man, Sgt. Halvor LeGrand Cole, getting to know him, becoming great friends, falling in love, a very touching proposal, designing my wedding dress, getting married, all are wonderful happenings. A beautiful long dream!

Now comes the reality: I must leave my home, I must leave my beloved sister behind and my dearest father, who not long ago returned from a prisoner-of-war camp in Siberia. My heart was shattering and hurting, I kept crying all the way home during my train ride, I could not stop.

When I arrived at the Darmstadt train station, I stopped at the flower shop to purchase some dark purple “March Violets,” my dearest sister’s favorite little flower. The lady put a beautiful Biedermeier bouquet together, tied with a dark purple silk ribbon and big bow. The fragrance was heavenly. My dearest sister, my Friedl, will love them.

I was walking home; it took longer, and I needed the time to compose myself. When I arrived at my sister Friedl’s home and rang the bell, my Friedl opened the door, and I could see in her eyes and on her face that she too had been doing the same, crying, all day. We both looked at each other, put our arms around each other and cried. I told her how sorry, how

heartbroken I was to leave her behind.

That evening was very quiet, my dearest sister Friedl nor I spoke a word, we just sat together holding hands, looking at the sweet bouquet of dark purple violets in a little Asian vase, letting our tears dry. Each in our own thoughts.

Frederika’s Birthday Party

Picture below: Friedl at 16

My dear mama, Mrs. Nietsche, and our governess Mrs. Kramer were all together planning a big party for my lovely sister Friedl, I called her my mouse when I was tender with her. It was her seventeenth birthday.

The foyer featured the grand piano and a most awesome Chinese screen in Chinese red lacquer, carved with gold and black figures and scenes, standing behind the piano, cutting off the view from the side entrance, kitchen, and guest bathroom doors.

In the center was a large, round table with an onyx top, holding a beautiful Lalique vessel filled with seasonal flowers. The floor was highly polished wood, inlayed toward the center forming a star. This was the place, always decorated first. It was the entry into this lovely home. The home of two sisters Friedl and Ilona.

White fragrant lilac in two floor vases, inserted, a branch of large orchid blossoms in white with a touch of green. On the center table, a Lalique vessel held some more of these breathtaking white orchid stems. A large chandelier coming down in the center glistening, the light and atmosphere in this space was calming. The space around the table was for the young people coming to the celebration to dance. Mrs. Kramer or mama will play the piano.

The dining room table had also been decorated with white lilac and the same orchids on a white organdy tablecloth with a rose-colored underlay. The beautiful Meissen China looked lovely on that. Everything looked festive.

The two ladies, mama and Mrs. Nietsche, departed into the kitchen to create magic, the food. A variety of “melt in your mouth” tarts and some vol-au-vents (puff pastry pockets) filled with cheese and spinach and some with lobster and a gruyere cheese crème or shrimp in a white wine crème. Little quiches with pear and blue cheese or jambo (French ham) and Swiss Emmenthaler cheese. A large bowl with pear, blue cheese and chopped pecans, fresh dill and fresh parsley salad. A tray with freshly baked, small brioche rolls, served with sweet butter.

The first guests started to arrive. Some lady friends of Friedl’s, Liesl the lady we went with on our escapade to the Odenwald (Ode to a Forrest) and a wonderful swimming facility and on the way home we dared and snitched cherries fresh of the trees and got sick. Irmgard, the good friend of Friedl’s who always goes to the opera with Friedl, now both have season tickets for a box. Two young men, Philip, and David along with another friend of Friedl’s, Eva arrived. Philip, her brother and David, Philip’s friend.

Two more young ladies from finishing school came a little late. Margot and Anna, living in Bensheim by the Berg Strasse, that beautiful “mountain road” that runs along and through a fertile valley with orchards of peach, cherry, and plum trees, all the way to the old and beautiful city of Heidelberg. The two ladies came by streetcar and walked the rest of the way.

Now, the festivities can begin! I went upstairs to my room to study and do my homework. The beautiful piano music though kept me from doing my schoolwork, so I sat on my window seat, looked out on to the beautiful garden and the fountain, still dressed in their winter mode, and listened to the mesmerizing music. Mrs. Nietsche and my mama brought up a tray for me, laden with a variety of tarts and a wonderful vol-au-vent and mama had a plate with a piece of her delectable “Torte Sorano”. The base of this torte is many layers of almond meringue with layers of praline crème in between. Powdered sugar on top and topped with edible flowers, dipped in egg whites, sugar and dried. A symphony!

I sat with my “Bearly” my Steiff bear and enjoyed the music, the satisfying food and this dessert! The homework was right now not on my mind.

That evening after Friedl’s party and all her guests had gone, our conversation around the dinner table was about the Birthday Party. Friedl was one young, happy lady. I was incredibly happy for my dearest sister.

This was 1942 and our future would only hold heartache and sorrow. Enjoying this day, this precious moment of happiness was well earned and well received.

Happy birthday my dearest beloved Friedl!

My Doll, Named Dale

Quite some time ago, I told a short story about a beautiful, large ragdoll.

How excited I was when I was told about many different dolls.

How fast I climbed the stairs to the extra space in a loft for all kind of French and Italian items the owner of the shop purchased.   

How I reacted in finding just the right doll.

How fast I gave the doll her name.

One look at the doll and she to me was the image of my dearest, beloved sister. All that it existed of was linen material, yarn for the hair and big brown button eyes, yet she represented for me an image, a clear vision of my sister, I lost long ago, but still had her in my heart. She was to me, my Dale. The shop was in Portland, Oregon and at that time my husband Hal and I lived in Vancouver, Washington. It was one of my favorite stores. Certain times a year, the owner, Kathleen Rockwell travelled to Europe in search of very beautiful and unusual items, had them shipped and offered them in her beautiful store. On her last trip she discovered beautiful dolls in France, and she told me about them, when I came to visit her store.

Now I would like to tell the story of how the name “Dale” came about.

In Germany, depending on the geographical location and (Dialect) one would be able to describe the item, a noun, with attaching the ending of: “chen, le, or lein on the noun to tell if this item is small, petit, little or cute. For instance, if I would want to describe a small, petite or cute dog, I could just use the noun dog “Hund” and end it in chen, le, or lein. Like a Hundchen, Hundele or Hundelein. Just the noun transformed with these endings. My sister Frederika’s name was for a small child rather hard to properly pronounce. So, my father who took “his little lady” in the car quite often, shopping for lovely items for her, used the shortened version of Frederika, Frieda.

And since she was only maybe three, four or five, he would use the ending for little or cute and her name would be Friedale. When my sister started to talk, she would of course only grasp part of this name: Dale. When I came into this family and started speaking, hearing this name Dale, for me then, she was always Dale. As my sister grew up and the Name Dale or Friedale was no longer suitable for her and Frieda interfered with one of my mother’s sister’s names, it was changed to Friedl.

But for me, in my mind and in my heart this very important lady in my life always has been “My Dale”.

The doll Dale has always been admired. How a doll made from only linen, yarn and big buttons can possess such attractiveness and personality is hard to explain, but my Hal’s sister Bev fell in love with her too.

Two Christmas’ ago, I dressed Dale in a white linin dress, red ribbon with a big bow around her waist and in her yarn-hair both sides, big red bows.

 I surprised my beloved Bev with this lovely gift, my Dale.