Abe F. March

The 6th of May 2010 was my 49th wedding anniversary.  On that same date I had open-heart surgery. Both events were a matter of the heart.  The first event represented love and joy while the second event was necessary to continue the joy and love of life.

PART ONE

In April I had my annual physical and expected another good report,i.e., low cholesterol, maintaining good body weight, negative blood work, good EKG, etc.  When the doctor listened to my heartbeat, he lingered longer than usual and then said he was going to refer me to a heart specialist.  He heard, as he put it in German, a schussing sound that was not there on my previous examination.  His questions about getting tired or feeling pain in the heart area made me realize that those things were happening.  I had chalked it up to getting older and losing stamina.  As for the stich(sting) in the heart area, I figured it was heart pain associated with something I ate.  My doctor personally called and made an appointment for examination at the heart clinic in Landau,Germany.  I was not concerned and figured the exam would indicate everything was okay.

My wife accompanied me to the appointment. There was no waiting, and the examination with the ultrasound machine began. After the exam, the doctor didn’t hesitate, but said, “You need a heartvalve.”  The German word he used was klappe and I visualized the cat door I had made that allowed the cats to come and go as they pleased and the clapping sound it made.  But, it wasn’t amusing. In fact, I was stunned, and thought, “Me, need a heart valve?  A person who exercises daily?” When I asked him how this could have happened, he said that a virus might have caused it.  The doctor said it would require about 10 days in the hospital and then three weeks rehab.

“Three weeks rehab?” I exclaimed. His nurse assistant broke out laughing at my remark.  Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that her mother was American and she was familiar with US health insurance limitations.  I was somewhat perplexed since an operation would interfere with my summer plans.  My granddaughter was to fly to Germany for a visit with the stipulation that I would escort her back to the USA.  Due to summer vacation schedules, it would be a problem.  The second, but less  important problem was the choir concert where I was scheduled to sing a solo part.

I said that if it must be done, then I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. 

The doctor then reviewed the problem of my aortic valve, how it had become enlarged and the pressure built up to force the valve to open.  He briefly discussed the two possibilities.The first option was a mechanical valve that would require daily medication for the rest of my life to prevent blood clotting, and would produce a clicking sound when the value opened and closed. The second possibility was a biological valve, predominantly taken from pigs, but there was a limited life span. Estimates ranged from 10 to 15 years. Considering my age, I decided to go with the biological valve. However,that decision was subject to change.

First the doctor wanted me for an overnight stay to do a catheterization in advance of the operation.  My wife and daughter accompanied me on my hospital check-in. 

As we waited, two nurses with grim faces pushed a gurney past us.  The body was completely covered with a small vase of flowers sitting on the chest. They told me that the procedure I was about to undergo had good success.  One in 10,000 were the odds that things could go wrong. Perhaps, I thought, this was the one that didn’t make it. 

Next, a lady who would prep me for the procedure cheerfully welcomed me.  She had a great smile and pleasing personality.  Having removed all my clothes and given me one of those mini-gowns that can be tied in the back, but never stay closed, I concluded that the smile may have had something to do with the fact that she was about to shave my groin.

The entire procedure took about two hours.  They did a local anesthetic with some form of relaxant, but I was awake and aware of what was happening. It was a bit scary feeling the tube progressing from the groin up to the heart.  Then two more passes to insert “stents” where weak veins were inhibiting blood flow. 

Afterwards, I had to lie on my back and keep my right leg straight for an uncomfortable six hours.  It was along restless night.  Frequent bloodpressure measurements and EKGs, nurses lifting the covers and taking a peek at my groin exclaiming, “looking good”.  Oc ourse I knew they were referring to the entry point of the wound.

Before discharge, I met with the doctor and was told that everything went well.  He said he would arrange for the heart valve replacement operation to take place at the heart clinic in  Karlsruhe.  He said there was a possibility that cutting the chest open for the operation could be avoided with a procedure using “stent graft prosthesis.” That would be decided in Karlsruhe. 

I was given an appointment to return the following week for a headscan.  In the meanwhile, I made an appointment with my family doctor.  He would make arrangements for eye, ear, nose, throat and teeth examinations prior to the operation to avoid any side complications, and two teeth were pulled. 

PART TWO

The date of the hospital admission in Karlsruhe was set for the 4th of May.  I expected the operation would take place on the 5th, but further testing was done on the 4th that indicated a heart by-pass would also be needed.  The date for the operation was set for the 6th of May,the date of my wedding anniversary.    

On the morning of May 6th, I was prepped and rolled into the operating room.  Using the stent graftprosthesis procedure was out of the question: open-heart surgery was required.  After consultation with a doctor, I decided to go with the biological valve.  I was already relaxed from medication and don’t remember much from that point until I began seeing shapes around me as I came out of the anesthesia and was rolled into intensive care. There was something very strange happening to me.  I thought perhaps I was remembering a dream,and if it was a dream, it was very real. My brother-in-law in Pennsylvania had passed away just a year earlier from complications resulting from hospital surgery.  He went into the hospital for a back operation, and after being closed-up, they discovered internal bleeding. They waited for him to regain strength before re-opening, however in the meantime, he became weaker, caught pneumonia and died.  He was just 73 years of age.  My apprehension about the operation may have been heightened due to thoughts about surgical foul-ups.  Whatever the cause, I don’t know if I was dreaming or if what I saw was real.  I saw myself lying on the operating table with the doctors working on me.  My brother-in-law appeared in the room,walked over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder.  He said, “Don’t worry Abe, you’re going to make it.”  Then he faded away. 

I don’t know why, but once I was placed in IC I was given a blood transfusion.  My wife came to visit as soon as allowed andwished me a belated Happy Anniversary.   

Although most of the nurses in the IC unit were very good, I felt helpless and vulnerable.  One young male nurse made me extremely nervous.  He was a trainee, and his trainer watched what he did – at least most of the time.  He was nervous, and it showed.  That made me nervous.  He had the features of a Negro, was tan but not black.  I asked him if he spoke English and he said, “a little,” but didn’t try to speak it.  It occurred to me that he may have been the result of an American GI who left a child behind before leaving Germany, and that he might resent Americans, and I became fearful, especially in my helpless state.  When he washed me, he let me lay exposed.  I tried pulling the sheet ove rmy privates but couldn’t do it.  I was not only fearful that he may do something wrong, but also felt that he took a   bit too long when washing my privates. I didn’t want him around me.  I expressed my concern to a female nurse saying that I was nervous when he was around and would prefer someone else to attend me.  I never saw him after that. 

The second isolated incident was with a night nurse in the IC unit.  Sleeping on my back caused me to breath through my mouth and it was constantly dry. I took frequent sips of water to relieve the dryness.  Being connected with tubes for both stool and urine, the water bag may have caused this nurse to admonish me frequently saying, “Mr. March, you are drinking too much water.”  On this particular night, I was in much pain and pressed the call button.  This same nurse appeared and I told her that I needed something for pain. She said, “Mr. March, I am making my rounds and will be back in 20 minutes.”

“I need something now,” I replied. She repeated her statement about making her rounds and coming back in twenty minutes.  It occurred to me that she could have given me the medication during the time she was making her excuse.  Those twenty minutes seemed very long, and the pain intensified. When she finally gave me the pain medication I was angry.  Subsequently, I didn’t make eye contact with her.  On the next shift, I said to another nurse, “Not all nurses are the same.” Smiling she replied, “True.  And not all patients are the same either.”  I explained that a particular nurse had given me the inspiration to write a story.  Copies of my published books were on my bedside table, and it became known that I was an author.  When the doctors made their morning rounds, one told the others that I was a Schriftsteller,a writer/author.  I felt good about being an author. 

Before the operation, I had finished reading the book, “Secrets” byDeepak Chopra.  I was impressed with the author and my daughter brought another of his books along when I was dropped off at the hospital.  The book she gave me was “Life after Death.”  When I saw the title my facial expression reflected some puzzlement.  My daughter then realized the inference and wanted to take the book back.  I insisted that it was okay and kept the book. As it turns out, it is a very good book and one I can recommend.

After 2 ½ days in IC, I was moved to another floor for a regular room.  There was a sitting area dividing the two-room complex with a table for taking meals or entertaining guests.  On both sides of this area was a spacious room accommodating two patients.  The nursing staff did everything to make me comfortable and checked frequently to see if I needed anything.  Unfortunately one cannot choose a roommate.  Mine was very talkative and seemed to enjoy farting, after which he would utter a huge “Aaaah” of relief.  Lying on my back meant that I most likely also snored.  I was not prepared for the snoring of my roommate accompanied with loud gasps for breath.  Sleeping and pain pills did not provide a good night’s rest.  I tried to tune out the babbling of my roommate whose dialect was difficult to understand,and the nonsense he spoke was tiresome. I responded with lots of “uh-huh’s” without knowing what he was talking about, and it seemed to satisfy him.

A patient in the room on the other side of the sitting area was scheduled to leave for rehab on the same day as me and we had chosen the same facility.  On his final exam it was determined that the sutures tying the valve in place were leaking.  They decided to re-open his chest and re-sew the valve.  We sat together at the table for our meals, and on our last evening together, I said it would be great to have a beer.  My three patient companions agreed, but laughed at the idea. When the nurse returned to pick up the food trays, I asked, “Could we have a beer?”  She said, “Yes.  Will that be four then?”

I said, “Alcohol free or real beer?”

She said, “Either. Your choice.” So we all enjoyed a beer.

I had a choice of three rehab locations.  The rehab facility I chose was purely based on convenience for visitation and the single rooms shown in their brochure.  I was picked up by the rehab clinic’s van and transported to the Park-Klinik in Bad Dürkheim I was very tired and looked forward to a quiet evening, unpacking and relaxing.  When I was shown to my room it was a double room with another occupant.  Surely this was a mistake, soI checked with the receptionist only to be told it was no mistake.  The first floor provided round the clock care and new patients requiring special care were placed there before moving into a single room.

It soon became clear that this rehab facility catered primarily to people with bone and joint problems. Eighty to ninety percent of the people were either on crutches, wheelchairs or walking with a rollator (walker).  I received a schedule for participation in daily rehab activities. Breathing exercises, inhalation, simple body exercises and massages were part of the therapy.  

I developed a severe case of bladder blockage combined with stool hardening.  The pain was severe.  I told the nurse that I couldn’t urinate.  She placed me in an examining room and called a doctor – at least that’s what his nametag suggested.  Having explained my dilemma, he seemed puzzled.  The first thing he did was to take some blood.  His first attempt,poking twice in the same vein, produced nothing, so he tried a vein in the back of my hand.  I wondered how taking blood would alleviate the problem with my bladder. He succeeded in causing more pain. Then he opened the doors to the medicine cabinet and surveyed its contents.  It appeared that he was still trying to figure out what to do.  He picked up a tube, examined it, put it back and looked at other items.  At that moment, a nurse came into the room and asked about the problem.  She selected a catheter and inserted it into my penis.  There was immediate release and relief as the urine began to drain and the pain subsided.  I have no  idea what the doctor would have done if the nurse hadn’t come to his aid.  He was obviously some intern and his days of practicing medicine had just begun.

The heart patients were in the minority and it seemed to me that they were not given as much attention as other patients.  After six days I was moved to my own room with TV and telephone.  The restaurant served good food and the big meal of the day was at noon - a German tradition.  Getting through the buffet line was not always easy when following those on crutches or rollators.  I thought Americans had large rear ends, but came to realize that Germany is catching up. I don’t know if many of the problems with the knees/legs were caused by overweight or if overweight resulted from problems with the knees/legs. 

My doctor found it curious that I was American and informed me that there was another American at the clinic and introduced us.  This American lived in Germany for thirty some years and was now a widower.  I soon became bored with him and ticked-off at his attitude.  He seemed to enjoy medical attention and a free ride.  His conversations centered on how clever he was and how he was able to exploit the health care system.  He was already on an extension at rehab and sought another.  He faked a blackout and said that they couldn’t send him home after that, however I think they got wise to him and he departed two days before my release. 

I was transported by the clinic to my homeon the 7th of June.  

Is it time for Revolt?

Are Global Warming and Health Care Reform issues politically related?

In discussions about Global Warming, the far right doesn’t buy into the notion that pollution is the cause.  In discussions about healthcare reform, the far right doesn’t feel change is needed.  There are thousands of scientists who have studied the causes of global warming.  Scientists have seldom, if ever, been in total agreement on any issue and it is easy to find scientists that will support one’s political agenda.  There are doctors and insurance companies that want things to remain as they are and find political support. 

Past arguments to delay implementation of pollution controls on industry was purported that it would hurt the economy. It would require corporations to spend much money to reduce emissions. 

Past arguments to prevent controls on financial markets and institutions was that it would inhibit a free market economy. The freewheeling of the financial institutions, without controls, led to the crash on Wall Street, and that hurt the economy.  The freewheeling of insurance companies to insure only healthy people, exclude pre-existing conditions and maintain high profits, are fighting to block change with political support. 

The middle class is declining as more slide into the poor category.   These same people, many without a healthcare program or one that is adequate, support political views that benefit the rich.  Why?  Brainwashing by highly paid public relations firms know how to tap into the psyche of Middle America.  They talk about long waiting lines and substandard care if government controlled. They use terms like communism, socialism and other isms as scare tactics to keep the poor in their place, and people succumb to this propaganda.

In the preamble to our constitution it states,  “…promote the general welfare…” It did not mean the general welfare of the rich, but of all Americans.  Abe Lincoln expressed in his Gettysburg Address:  “…a government of the people, by the people and for the people…“   Not having a government “for the people” is part of the reason 13 colonies revolted.  Is it time for another revolt?

Everyone has worried about something at onetime or another, and many worry every day.   

I found that many things I worried aboutwere self-manufactured.  I wanted amethod to deal with worries, so when I found myself worrying, I would ask: Isthis worry real or imagined? 

If imagined, I stopped worrying about it.If the worry was real, I then questioned if there was something I could doabout it now.  If I could, I did it andthere was no longer reason to worry.  Ifit was something that could not be handled right away, I asked myself when itcould be handled and made a note on a “To Do” list with a specific date.  If it was something completely out of mycontrol, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it now or in thefuture, I pushed it out of my mind.

We know that we are all going to die.  When or where that will happen we don’tknow, unless we decide to end it ourselves - definitely not recommended.  Considering all the things that cause us toworry, I asked myself, what if I dropped dead tomorrow?  What would happen to all the things I worryabout?  Would someone else step in andhandle it?  Would the things I worriedabout be of concern to anyone else?  Inany case, my worrying days would be over.

I decided to do an experiment.

When something caused me to worry I wouldwrite it down on a “Worry List.”  Forthe sake of creating at least one such worry list, I finally did it.  I took my list and jumped in my car.  I wanted someplace quiet where I could worryundisturbed, so I went to the cemetery. It was beautifully maintained with live plants as in a flower garden,and peaceful. I realized that the beauty was for the benefit of the visitor,not the dearly departed.  I found abench under a shade tree and took out my worry list. I planned to start withnumber one on my list, worry about that, and then continue until I had worriedabout everything listed. Most often I discovered how foolish my worry was andthe act of writing it down was just plain stupid.

The headstone directly in front of me,however, got my attention.  I noted thename of the deceased, his date of birth and death. Next to his name was thename of his wife who died three years later. I wondered what kind of life they had had.  Did they love each other? Did they quarrel? I wondered what kind of worries they had during theirlifetime before their worrying days were over.

By the time I looked at several headstoneswondering what kind of people they were, how they may have struggled to live orjust survive, I got up and left.  On theway out of the cemetery I tore up my worry list and dropped it into thetrashcan.  I wondered what would happenwhen I became a memory. What would people remember about me?  Did I make a difference in their life?  Did I contribute to society?  Would there be a record of my life that wasworthy?

When I got home, I went to the bookshelfand picked up my first published book. As I leafed through the pages, I thought about my travels, the people Imet and the many spoken words.  I knewthat my words would be forgotten, but what I had written would remain. I ampleased to be an author and hope that what I write will be meaningful tosomeone.  As for worrying, unless I cando something about it, why bother?

What is the cause of terrorism against America?

We read about Al Quaeda, the Taliban, Palestinian militants and the efforts to crush them. Where do we read about the reason for their actions?  Why is that ignored? 

Our reaction is analogous to giving someone a painkiller without dealing with the cause of the pain. 

For thousands of years wars have been fought over religious philosophy, each sect believing their way was right.  The three religions: Christianity, Judaism and Islam, have roots in the OldTestament.  The Old Testament contains murder, slaughter, infidelity, deceit, debauchery, betrayal, lying, racism,incest, rape, etc.  It is full of revenge, not forgiveness.  The New Testament, based on the teachings of Jesus, also includes betrayal and murder, however it preaches forgiveness.  The Koran, the bible of Islam, follows the teachings of the Prophet Mohammed.  They do not look upon Jesus as Christ, the Son of God, but as a prophet.

The unresolved conflict in the Middle East between Israel and Palestine are between adversaries with similar claims and beliefs. Both lay claim to the same territory and both take revenge.  Christian fundamentalists ignore the teachings of Christ (“turn the other cheek”) by supporting the Old Testament ‘eye for an eye’ concept of hatred and revenge.  They believe in Old Testament prophecy and work hard to make it come to pass: thus their unconditional support for Israel.  Political leaders, especially in the U.S., succumb to intimidation in order to preserve their careers and pledge their support to a country that violates human rights and the rule of law.  UN Resolutions are enforced on other countries but none against the State of Israel, most often with American vetoes. And yet Americans want to be seen as honest brokers for peace.  Is it any wonder that America has been targeted? 

Unless or until UN Resolutions are enforced there will be no chance for peace.  The two parties have proven that they cannot resolve the issues themselves.  Only by forceful means, using the rule of law, will there be a chance for peace.  Until that happens, revenge against America will continue and more people will die. Security measures cannot cover all aspects of life and those committed to revenge will use devious means to inflict their punishment on those perceived as the enemy.   Understanding why may help in pressing those in a position of power to take the tough steps required for a resolution.

The book: “They Plotted Revenge Against America” may help shed light on this subject.

“People don’t plan to fail, they fail to plan.” I don’t know the author of that statement, but it has been repeated often in training seminars. 

I have yet to make a plan that was completed as planned, and yet planning is important.  It defines a starting point with an objective - a goal.  How to reach that goal begins with a plan. 

Unfortunately there is seldom ever a straight line to reach the goal.  An analogy might be in driving across country with a road map.  There are detours along the way that interrupt the trip. A pilot makes adjustments to his flight plan caused by wind currents and/or diversions dictated by air traffic control.  Having no plan could be compared to taking a trip in a rudderless boat.

I cannot imagine writing a book without some destination in mind nor can I imagine sticking to a pre-planned format. Non-fiction requires some organization that follows sequence of historical events; however with fiction the characters often dictate the direction the book will take.  The ending may even surprise the writer. 

In general, I think planning is important, but to stick to a plan without deviation or flexibility in my view is foolhardy.

There are various forms of peace.  Peace instead of war is perhaps the most publicized, however maintaining the peace in a family setting is more common.

Controversy over a multitude of issues can lead to estrangement unless there is a medium for reconciliation.  The role of peacemaker is difficult and often overlooked.

Throughout my life I have found myself by default in the role of peacemaker.  Trying to diffuse tensions between two or more parties caused sleepless nights and turmoil trying to find a solution. Often the antagonism of the opponents would be turned against me as common ground to vent frustrations.  They reconciled and I became the Fall Guy or Scapegoat. 

As a father it was my role to resolve problems between siblings.  As a manager it was my duty to resolve issues between employees.  As an international entrepreneur it was important to see both sides of political issues without taking sides.  Not taking sides left me open to criticism and supposition by perception. Taking a stand requires lots of courage especially when that stand goes against strong opposition. 

I have found that there are always two sides to a story and that the truth lies somewhere in the middle.  The peacemaker tries to understand both sides of the issue and bring the sides together.  That is most difficult when one side is dominant or more powerful and their views forced on their opponent.  When peace is achieved by force it is temporary.  Peace with justice survives. 

My experience in the Middle East changed my views dramatically with learning. To keep the peace, I could not share my views openly. When I decided to speak out against injustice, I was severely criticized and my patriotism questioned.  My inner peace was shattered.  Patience and understanding was required to heal the wounds and restore inner peace. 

In my view, Jimmy Carter is a good example of a peacemaker.  His work at the Carter Center in Georgia is devoted to world peace.  He has no political agenda and his courage to stand up for peace with justice makes him the target of criticism by powerful opposition groups. 

Many seek peace only on their terms.  That is not a Win-Win strategy and bound to fail. Peace requires compromise. 

Blessed are those who work for peace.    

I dreamed that President Obama made a decision to end the unresolved dilemma between Israel and Palestine.  Until now, efforts for the parties to come to a final agreement on their own had failed.  He realized that only forced action by America could end the stalemate.  He had received the Nobel Peace prize and felt he must do something to deserve that honor, so he made the decision to do what was needed for world peace. Since the UN carved out a piece of land in Palestine as a homeland for the Jews, he felt that past decisions made by the UN, the international body of law and legitimacy, must be enforced to resolve the on-going crisis.  Israel must recognize the 1967 borders and abide by UN Resolutions.

Without forewarning, President Obama sent an invasion force to the shores of Israel.  He notified the Israeli government of his decision and the reason for his actions.  He further stated that US military personnel would come ashore and be placed along the 1967 borders to insure compliance.  He also intended to surround Israel’s nuclear facilities as a precaution.  If Israel refused to comply with his demands, the fleet of ships would remain in place as quarantine. All financial aid would be immediately suspended and their US bank accounts frozen.  If Israel offered any resistance, the US would invade, eliminate Israel’s WMD'S and forcibly secure the borders. He further declared that Jerusalem would become an international city controlled by a council of the three religions: Judaism, Islam and Christianity.  The Israelis living in settlements in the occupied territories could elect to remain if they so chose, but the Palestinian authority would govern them.  The subject of refugees returning to their homeland would be dealt with separately once the borders were secure.  The U.S. would guarantee both the security of Israel and Palestine with their presence until it was no longer required. 

When this action was made public, the world was suddenly changed. Terrorist threats were diffused overnight, placated with the feeling that their fight for justice had achieved its purpose.  The world waited breathlessly for this unprecedented action by the U.S. to materialize. 

The backlash by Israel’s supporters in America was immediate.  Threats against the life of President Obama were numerous.  The Israeli Lobby in Washington pushed for Obama’s impeachment. Orchestrated demonstrations around the country provided more fuel for the call for impeachment.  Counter demonstrations by the ever-increasing number of those sympathetic to the Palestinians clashed with the Pro Israeli supporters. 

Countries in the Middle East expressed their approval of Obama’s initiative.  They promised their support expressing their willingness to accept Israel as a full partner in the Middle East once his actions were fulfilled.  Military activity in Afghanistan was halted.  Al Qaeda’s reason for existence was no longer relevant. Iran announced its agreement to all UN requirements for its nuclear activities. 

In my dream, the world was at peace and I breathed a sigh of relief.  It became a nightmare when I learned that President Obama had been assassinated. 

The talks about health care continue:  The opponents say, “It’s too expensive.  We can’t afford it.”    

Could we afford the war in Iraq?  Can we afford the ongoing war in Afghanistan?  Can we afford the billions we continually shell out to our friends in the never-ending conflict in the Middle East?

When it comes to the welfare of the American citizens, they continue to take a backseat to politics.  So who are our representatives in Washington representing? 

To hear the politicians talk, they claim to be doing what is best for America.  God Bless America!  Who or what is America? Is it some landmass that is supposed to have some imaginary power?  Are the citizens of this country tools to use and then discard when they are no longer useful?

We are America.  We the citizens.  We have needs and desires that our government, yes our government, is there to provide.  An environment to work and enjoy life with equality for all.  Does equality exist with healthcare?  The haves have it.  Those who don’t have as much get little or no protection. 

It’s time to get our priorities straight and do the things that benefit the citizens of this country.  And when we are asked to defend our country, we will be ready. We will be healthy and willing to sacrifice since we were helped when we needed it.   

Visible traces of WWII in Germany are disappearing. The allied forces blew up all the German bunkers leaving behind only the rubble, and that is being covered up.

I moved to Nothweiler in 1992.  It is a small village less than 10 kilometers from the office and production facilities that I was to manage.  Nothweiler is on the border of France (Alsace), situated in a valley surrounded by the Pfaelzerwald- the forests of the Pfalz in the Palatine region of Germany.  I began exploring the surrounding hills and found numerous exploded bunkers.  The skeletons of these bunkers could be seen throughout the countryside; the huge reinforced steel cement slabs in disarray. I was interested in the history of the war and enjoyed investigating these bunkers, crawling through them, imagining what took place and noting their strategic placements.  Trenches led to and from the bunkers allowing the troops to move about without being seen.  Foxholes dug by the invading armies were still visible on adjacent hills where fighting took place. 

After living in the area for two years, the bunkers began to be covered up.  Mountains of dirt were pushed over them.  When I asked the reason I was told that the people wanted to forget about the war, and the bunkers were a reminder.  I was sad to see what was happening.  In my view, it was an attempt to bury history.  I felt fortunate to see them before the cover up. 

My house was situated on the side of the mountain overlooking the small village of just over 200 inhabitants.  I could see the Wegelnburg Castle (a ruin) built in the first half of the 13th century.  Near the Wegelnburg, on the French side of the border, are the ruins of Hohenburg, built in the second half of the 13th century.  A kilometer farther is Fleckenstein, a cliff castle built in 1174.  There are many castles in the region, now skeletal ruins, after being destroyed by the French in 1689.  My interest in the castles of the region was later to influence my novel, Journey Into the Past.

There was a guard hut at the end of the village on the border with France that controlled passage via a gravel road to the French village, Wingen.  A sign in French and English on the border read: “You are here on the border.  Stay on the marked paths.  Take care to keep the forest clean and respect nature. When you cross the border, carry your passport and don’t take any articles with you that require the payment of duty.” 

In 1995 several European nations agreed to lift border controls – including those between Germany and France.  On NewYears Day, January 1996, the lifting of border controls went into effect, and a celebration was held on the German side of the border by the guardhouse, between the villages of Wingen and Nothweiler. It was an historical event and everyone was happy.  The French brought food and a variety of Schnapps. There was much Prosting and good wishes for a new future.  Language was not a problem since many of the villagers of Wingen spoke German, and at one time had been German citizens.  The next morning I discovered that the border crossing signs had been torn down.  I retrieved a border sign as a souvenir and have it in my possession.

During the war between Germany and France of 1870-71, Graf Zeppelin (later sponsor of the famous Zeppelin dirigible airships), while being pursued by the French, made a rest stop in Nothweiler and watered his horse at the fountain.  A plaque commemorates this event.

In 1939, Adolf Hitler visited Nothweiler while inspecting the fortifications in the region.  

The town planted an oak tree in his honor and named the tree, Adolph Hitler.  A local citizen named his newborn son, Adolf.  Adolf, who had nurtured the tree over the years, relayed this bit of information to me.  As he told me the story, he placed his finger over his lips as a sign to keep it quiet.  He said that if the Americans knew the tree was named after AdolfHitler, they would have cut it down. This tree stands in front of the Rathaus (the town hall).  Adolf passed away in 2008.

On top of the mountain behind my house, is a huge rock formation that was used as a lookout post for the German army.  On the opposite side of the border the French built a wooden lookout tower.  The Germans and French kept an eye on each other, and when the French elevated their tower higher than the German position, the Germans shot off the new elevation. I investigated the rock formation, crawling through the cave-like crevices.  I spied an inscription on the rock. I brushed away the dirt and overgrown foliage and saw a Swastika carved into the stone.  That excited me.  I kept it quiet so that it would not be erased.  To me it was a part of history.   

Nothweiler also had an iron ore mine, named St. Anna Stollen.  It was opened in 1493 and abandoned in 1883.  During the war, it was used as a shelter for some of the local inhabitants.  Others fled to the various rock formations with large cave-like recesses that afforded protection from air raids and shelling.  Blackened walls still show traces of fires used for cooking and warmth. 

Today, above ground fortifications are covered up and destroyed while underground fortifications remain.  In France, above ground bunkers can still be seen and are a tourist attraction.  The main underground fortification of theFrench, was the Maginot Line, running along the borders of Germany and Italy.  It did not deter the Germans however since they simply entered France through Belgium and Luxemburg.  Underground fortifications in Germany, in strategic locations, can be visited. The huge fortification in Berlin, with several underground levels, housed hundreds of troops with provisions. 

Can one really cover up history?  Will future generations discover the hidden, covered over bunkers, and view it differently?  I think they will.  Those who survived the war will soon be all dead and buried.  Memories are meant to live on, good and bad.  One cannot change the past, however it can and should be a guide for future conduct. Innocent civilians as well as conscripted soldiers following orders, die needlessly.  History continues to repeat itself.  Will we ever learn?  There should never be a need for cover up.

The unresolved dilemma between Israel and Palestine continues to affect the world in various ways.  It spawns terrorist activity, creates economic instability in world markets, drains financial resources and even influences elections.  Numerous peace plans and proposals have been offered for consideration but none have achieved their purpose.  With all the attention by past American presidents to resolve the problem, why haven't they succeeded?  Intransigence is just one reason.  Failure to enforce UN Resolutions is the biggest failure.  UN Resolutions are enforced on other countries, when it suits, but ignored when it comes to the Israeli/Palestinian problem.  Are we even-handed?  Do we enforce the rule of law fairly or only when it is politically expedient?

My novel, "They Plotted Revenge Against America," deals with unlawful acts by America and by American supported Israeli aggression that caused deaths to loved ones.  The desire for revenge is so strong that a mission is planned to punish America.  There is a solution for the stalemate, to end injustice, and to halt the need for terrorist acts of revenge.