I grew up along the River Rhine in Germany. My father was a professor who taught in universities before the war. Because he was a government employee, he had to be registered as a leader of the party. He refused two times, but then a card came saying if you don’t register, you have to take the consequences, which is losing your job. So he had to do it.
I always swore never to marry anyone in that authoritarian profession — but never say never, I guess. Years later, I was in Wies-baden, and I had a blind date. My blind date was of a different nationality, spoke a different language, had a different religion and came from a different country. But he shared my father’s teaching profession. You always marry someone like your father, they say!
My blind date was an American named John. We both were very tired and looked our worst on that first evening. The two people who brought us together were not close friends at all. It didn’t matter to me; I just wanted to practice my school English and have a look at that famous American way of life.
On our second date, in front of the von Steuben Hotel in Wiesbaden, I was one hour late. Not my fault, really — the hairdresser was late. John waited for me and did not ask any questions. We had a very nice evening, and I took a second look at him.
