January 31, 1946
1/31/1946
Dad, Wow, you got to go to a lot of different places: Basel, Kandersteg and Beau Rivage, Switzerland; Frankfurt, Germany; and Strasbourg, France.
And a place that I cannot find via Google but looks like it's spelled Thoune Hotel in Beau Rivage where you loved the soft beds and where you learned how to skate and to ski.
Dad, your ice skating always amazed me because I am not graceful, yet you are and I loved that you were so patient with me and would take my hands and skate backwards as you encouraged me to keep trying to balance. I think I just loved skating along with you because I wanted to feel as graceful as you are.
I don't think you ever got to ski again, tho, like you planned on doing after you came back home. Life sort of took off and took over.
How interesting that you remained the same person throughout your life as you were over-seas. As far back as I can remember, you loved a good cafe, i.e. good service, good food, and good prices.
You mentioned in your letters the Hotel with the soft beds and a place called the Schützenhaus Cafe. Guess what? It's still "there" and now called Restaurant Schützenhaus. I don't know if it's in the same place, but it's the same name! Imagine that! I wish I'd looked all this up for you years ago.
Guess what, Dad? Stephanie gets to go to France for a whole month! With Dan and his parents. I was hoping she would get to the Eiffel Tower and get a picture like yours, but they are going to the south of France.
Miss you so much, Dad. At work last week a young Hispanic guy who now works in my unit said something so mean to me. I had asked someone else where he had eaten lunch. He replied and the other lady in the break room asked where "that" was. It is a Mexican food restaurant, one that I cannot pronounce, but it means "the Jackal".
The Hispanic guy joked and said that "we" couldn't pronounce it because we can't speak Spanish. I said I live in America, I speak English - to which he hatefully replied, "Well, then after what your people did to the Indians, you should be speaking Indian."
Dad, "my people" had nothing to do with what happened to the Indians, but he didn't care. All he cared about is that my skin is white, so I must be guilty.
I wish you were here. Love you,
Patti
Dad, Wow, you got to go to a lot of different places: Basel, Kandersteg and Beau Rivage, Switzerland; Frankfurt, Germany; and Strasbourg, France.
And a place that I cannot find via Google but looks like it's spelled Thoune Hotel in Beau Rivage where you loved the soft beds and where you learned how to skate and to ski.
Dad, your ice skating always amazed me because I am not graceful, yet you are and I loved that you were so patient with me and would take my hands and skate backwards as you encouraged me to keep trying to balance. I think I just loved skating along with you because I wanted to feel as graceful as you are.
I don't think you ever got to ski again, tho, like you planned on doing after you came back home. Life sort of took off and took over.
How interesting that you remained the same person throughout your life as you were over-seas. As far back as I can remember, you loved a good cafe, i.e. good service, good food, and good prices.
You mentioned in your letters the Hotel with the soft beds and a place called the Schützenhaus Cafe. Guess what? It's still "there" and now called Restaurant Schützenhaus. I don't know if it's in the same place, but it's the same name! Imagine that! I wish I'd looked all this up for you years ago.
Guess what, Dad? Stephanie gets to go to France for a whole month! With Dan and his parents. I was hoping she would get to the Eiffel Tower and get a picture like yours, but they are going to the south of France.
Miss you so much, Dad. At work last week a young Hispanic guy who now works in my unit said something so mean to me. I had asked someone else where he had eaten lunch. He replied and the other lady in the break room asked where "that" was. It is a Mexican food restaurant, one that I cannot pronounce, but it means "the Jackal".
The Hispanic guy joked and said that "we" couldn't pronounce it because we can't speak Spanish. I said I live in America, I speak English - to which he hatefully replied, "Well, then after what your people did to the Indians, you should be speaking Indian."
Dad, "my people" had nothing to do with what happened to the Indians, but he didn't care. All he cared about is that my skin is white, so I must be guilty.
I wish you were here. Love you,
Patti
Comments