Der Kleine Lump

The Little Rascal

John F. Paugstat

Copyright © 2022 John F. Paugstat

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

Originally published by Page Publishing 2022

All sketches in the text are by Lori Tahmassebi.

No part of this publication may be reproduced without permission from the copyright holder, except as provided by USA copyright law.

ISBN 978-1-6624-2544-8 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-2545-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

In Appreciation

Prologue

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Poverty's Faces

Chapter VI

Playing

Chapter VII

One Summer of Happiness

Chapter VIII

Favorite friends

Chapter IX

Working

Chapter X

Extended Family

Epilogue

Extravagance: Enjoying Peach from Lemon

In Appreciation

To all (family, friends, society, and church)

For encouraging and showing me how to squeeze peach nectar from life defined by lemon-tart realities.

To my wife,

For her patience and encouragement.

"Good Sailors

Are born in Rough Seas."

Similarly

The Ultimate

Xtravagances

Are born in Poverty.

Prologue

A boy is born into a near-destitute family in the worst of times defined by the Great Depression and World War II. Those harsh realities should have domed the boy or left him with lifetime scars. The boy proves to be a paradox to those expectations. In spite of the harsh realities fed by the needs of poverty, the boy enjoyed an adventuresome and extravagant lifestyle. The unique familial, social, and religious details that defined his life add to the charm and intrigue.

The boy's family was atypical in heritage, faith, lifestyle, character, and appearance. His mother wore a prayer covering and plain dress that belied her fiery temperament and her dramatic past as a peasant maiden who endured the horrors of revolution and war. She referred to the boy, her son, as der kleine lump (dependent on her voice inflection, the title could be interpreted as the little [winsome] rascal, or at the other extreme, the little scoundrel). The boy's father, though born in the United States, was of dogmatic German character who became more rigid and narrow through his conversion to a (very) conservative, pacifist's faith. Paradoxically, the ways of peace taught by the church did not transform into their private lives. His parents retained their old-world values and ways; they fought constantly and often viciously. Well, maybe not constantly; according to berry-patch wisdom, they, on occasion, united as one to make many as witnessed by their six children.

The boy's family was the poorest in a middle-class neighborhood with modern homes. In contrast, their home lacked the conveniences such as central heating, running water, or an indoor bathroom. A woodstove cooked the meals; a pot-bellied, coal-burning stove was good for only two rooms at best. The rest of the house reflected the outside temperature. The boy's family lived on less than an acre of land that contained the house, an outhouse, and five dinky outbuildings that sheltered junk and a menagerie of animals—a horse, cow, steer, chickens, ducks, turkeys. In stark contrast to the neat and orderly lawns that defined the neighborhood, the outbuildings, animals, and clutter were like an ugly wart on the face of a lovely young maiden.

Like a wart on the face of a maiden, poverty is cruel. It breeds evil; it ruins lives. Unattended, it kills and destroys. When the boy looked across poverty's fence, he saw the benefits of wealth enjoyed by all except his family. That tended to magnify the tartness of the lemons common to his side of the fence. To enjoy life, the wart had to go. But how and what are its effects on the boy? This book will tell.

In perspective, poverty has many faces and circumstances that cannot be generalized. By definition, the boy lived in poverty (lacking a usual or socially acceptable amount of money or material possessions). At times, his poverty was extreme. It bordered on but never was destitute (lacking the essentials for life). That fence separating poverty from destitution is significant to this book. The adventures and extravagances experienced by the boy in poverty would be difficult to impossible in destitution.

The resulting anecdotes have a wide variance in mood and emotions: from sadness to euphoria, from pain to well-being, from tedium to adventure, and from harshness to tenderness. Viewed separately, the realities of poverty are painful and unpleasant; they gave an acrid, lemon taste to life. However, when the realities of poverty were tempered by the positive influences from parents, church, and society, the boy experienced unexpected benefits and well-being as in eXtravagance, like enjoying peach in a lemon grove.

Writing this book resulted in unexpected benefits to me, the author. I was born into poverty and felt its harsh realities that dominated my thinking. Since I was born into poverty, I could identify with the boy. However, in contrast to my painful memories, I found the boy's life in poverty to be fascinating, adventuresome, and attractive. I would like to have lived as he did, and so I did. Indeed, I am both the author and the boy in this book. When I viewed the composite picture of the boy in poverty, I realized that I enjoyed an extravagant life with memorable, satisfying, enjoyable, and beneficial experiences.

Early in my life, the lemon taste of poverty became dominant in what I learned at school. My peers didn't know what it was like to spend the night in a hot attic with a body covered with chigger bites or the challenge of an outdoor privy at midnight in midwinter. Lacking the norm, I soon perceived myself to be handicapped and underprivileged to my peers. That negative, poverty-laden attitude should have ensured poverty for the rest of my life. What changed? How did I escape the clutches of the poverty mold?

For starters, I was fortunate to fall into a set of circumstances that were outside the clutches of poverty. For example, in the fourth grade, the teacher assigned seats according to grade-point average (a no-no in present society). The number 1 chair went to the number 1 student and down the line to bottom chair with the lowest average. I was inferior economically, but with the incentive of the number 1 chair, I didn't have to be inferior academically. I usually enjoyed the prestige of the second chair, sometimes the number 1 or the number 3 chair. As such, my poverty-based inferiority complex withered away with reality. I enjoyed what money could not buy—that's extravagance.

Of interest, the richest and the poorest student in our class, maybe the whole school, occupied the number 1 and the number 2 chairs. The resulting picture was one of humorous contrast. A classy young maiden, dressed in the finest and latest of fashions, graced chair number 1. Chair number 2 was occupied by a country bumpkin, dressed in the finest of decades past—undersized knickers and oversized, high-topped boots (without a knife in the sheath on the boots).

In keeping with the proverb, turbulent seas make good sailors, most of my life in poverty had a positive influence on my development. For example, for punishment, I was horsewhipped that left welts. Even though the horsewhipping was often undeserved, I had a sense of satisfaction knowing that, as a boy with tender buttocks, I could take such punishment and not cry or hold ill will against the one applying the whip. That and similar lessons served me well through life. Of such is the essence of eXtravagant poverty. (I was never horsewhipped in uncontrolled, savage anger.)

All are born into poverty (deficiency) in some area(s) be it economic, mental, physical, social, or circumstantial. Poverty does not come with built-in benefits. With only one life to live, we want to make sure that our poverty results in gain, not loss. The resulting gain or loss starts with the attitude of the mind.

Toward conditioning the mind, I was fortunate to attend a church that stressed the importance of maintaining a positive mindset toward enjoying life regardless of circumstances. I was fortunate to have parents who taught and modeled how to make the most out of little. I was fortunate to have lived in a society that provided opportunity to improve the scope of mind through education and to conquer the ills of poverty through work. I was fortunate to have friends and relatives who were exemplars of positive living and provided a sense of value to my being.

I am accordingly defined with in-bred incentive to find the peach when life is lemon tart.

PART I

The X Causes (X as in eXtravagant, eXtraordinary, and uneXpected)

Chapter I

In the Beginning

In the Beginning

The Seedbed

As a wee laddie-buck, I squeezed memory to its limits with a startling conclusion. Since I couldn't remember a beginning, I always existed. That was reality until another wee laddie-buck who was picking berries beside me tried to set me straight. He laid out the facts of our beginning, noting in graphic detail what he saw. I was sure that I had a more noble beginning. To start the process, Poppa had to be intimate with Momma. I never saw my parents even touch each other. They slept in separate bedrooms, making it impossible to be in an intimate embrace. Then there were six of us kids. It was unthinkable that my parents embraced intimately six times.

To my young mind, the above raised a big question: If I had a beginning, how? The mystery went back before my time when Momma and Poppa agreed to become as one—but with hidden, secret motives that had both humorous and tragic consequences.

At church, I learned that God created woman as a helpmate for man or something like that. The idea of a helpmate sounded attractive to me. I got religious and started to look for a helpmate. I didn't want to rush this finding a helpmate, so I asked, "Momma, how long did you know Poppa before you got married?" Her answer showed that I had much to learn about those two plain-looking people whom I called Momma and Poppa (the names we called our parents in German).

To understand my surprise, as long as I knew them, Momma and Poppa were very religious and conservative in their behavior. Momma dressed plainly, including a prayer covering. Poppa, though born in the US, was thoroughbred German in character: Es muss so sein (It has to be so). A religious, conservative German was about as straight as they came. Certainly, their romance would be a model for me to follow. Momma's answer changed all that. Her answer in German was simple and direct: Ein tach (One day).

One day! Only one day, how can that be? Poppa, I'll never beat your time.

Momma's simple answer resulted in long hours of my questioning about her early life. That simple beginning went a long way toward explaining the unique character of our family that started with Momma and Poppa like no other.

Momma

Momma, of German and Russian heritage, was born in the peasant class in Poland. When maybe five years old, her parents moved to Latvia, where she grew up and lived through the horrors of World War I and the revolution. During that time, my mother experienced some incredible adventures, including being the first to greet the German soldiers coming into her village, seeing her father sent to Siberia, and having a price placed on her head. From those realities, Momma experienced poverty at its worst. Only the strong survived. As a hard worker, fearless and pragmatic, Momma proved that she was strong and then some.

Momma had uncles in America who were doctors. When Momma was young, they came to visit their brother, Momma's father. Momma remembered the uncles, not for who they were, but for what they had. The uncles were rich; at least, they looked rich. One way or another, Momma would get to America, the land of the rich and affluent. The desire to get to America was so great that Momma gave up the chance to marry a baron who owned the entire town. Her father advised Momma to respond to the baron's courting, or she might end up with a poor peasant with nothing. Momma's laughing response was That's what I did. The incentive to come to America was a hope born in an early childhood experience with her uncles.

According to my berry-picking friend, there were two parts to me: one from Momma and the other from Poppa. Now for the rest of the story on how I came to be—thanks to Poppa.

Poppa

Though born in America, Poppa was German by nature and heritage. His parents were middle class and taught Poppa in the ways of his German ancestors. Poppa spoke German at our home and with his many friends and relatives. Even the church services we attended in my youth were in German.

In time, Poppa's mother became homesick for the fatherland; accordingly, they returned to Germany. Later, Poppa went back to America and served in World War I against his homeland. For that, his father rebuked Poppa, It is a bad bird that messes its nest.

Except for the brainwashing during his military career, Poppa remained at heart a proud, strict, stubborn German. His later religious conversion added to his strict, narrow, and stubborn character. Those characteristics were good and not so good.

Soon, Poppa desired a helpmate, ideally, one like his mother. He wanted someone who was a hard worker and would respect his authority as head of the house. Poppa did not like the independence he saw in American women, so he turned to his parents in Germany for help. Poppa's parents knew my mother as a hard worker, an excellent cook, and faithful caretaker. Momma seemed to fit Poppa's requirements. So Poppa arranged to sail the blue ocean and meet Momma in Germany.

Poppa paid dearly to get Momma. The cost at that time to float over the big ocean was high in terms of both money and time. Then Poppa had to go from Dayton to New York, which at that time was a major trip. From what he knew, Momma was worth it. Poppa's parents gave their approval and blessings. That was good enough for Poppa. He went his way with happy thoughts of tomorrow: Little Princess, get ready because here comes your prince. We'll start a family of little ‘birds' and live happily ever after.

The Mismatch

Poppa was the man of Momma's dreams, and he was also Momma's ticket to America. She must not blow this rare and maybe only opportunity. She must be at her very best when meeting Poppa, and so she was.

Poppa saw Momma's picture before he met her. He liked what he saw, and he liked better what he learned about Momma from his parents. Momma was the jewel of his searches for a mate. To ensure winning the prize, Poppa must be at his very best when meeting Momma, and so he was.

When Poppa first saw Momma, she was more beautiful than her pictures. She was neatly dressed. Her face had a gentleness and meekness that was attractive to him. She was about five inches shorter than Poppa and pleasantly molded. His parents advised him well; Poppa liked what he saw. Poppa could hardly wait to show off his new prize to his many friends and relatives in America. Momma would be his classic import.

Momma saw a proud young man who was slightly taller than average. He was sharply dressed, polished in his manners, and had an air of authority. Best of all, he looked rich, like the uncles of her past. He was her man; he would lead her to America, the Promised Land. Momma would faithfully follow.

Time was critical. Poppa did his homework; he liked what he saw. There was no need for delay. Within hours after meeting, Poppa presented the engagement ring. Momma accepted. She could do no less for that ring was the answer to her lifetime desire to go to America. There was a problem. Poppa wanted to return on the same ship on which he came. To return on that ship, they would have to be married within three days. In Germany (at that time), it took at least three days to get a wedding license, let alone carry through with the wedding. Only a government official could bypass the three-day limit. Momma called that person—the governor.

For Momma, the sooner, the better; she fully supported Poppa in his efforts to make the three-day deadline. She followed Poppa like a humble and devoted little pussycat. She was at his side, a step behind in a show of submission. Poppa loved that. He could not imagine how he had been so lucky to find such a rare jewel.

No one could get past the guards to the governor without an appointment. No appointment could be made within the three-day limit. To most, that would have been the end of the line, but not for Poppa. From Poppa's experience, guards were like locked gates. You had to figure out the weak point of entry. These guards to government officials should present no problem. He asked Momma to give her total attention to Poppa and forget about the guards.

Before Momma knew what happened, they were safely behind a pillar on their way to the governor's office. When the governor came in, his unexpected visitors baffled him. He wondered how they got past his guards. Poppa diverted the questions by drawing attention to the governor's many military ornaments and to the magnificent view. After Poppa had the governor's attention, the rest was history. Poppa and Momma got married within the three-day limit. They made the trip back to the US as scheduled.

Once on the ship, the ensuing humor and tragic melodrama started. Both had secret motives and apparently won. Once on the ship, Poppa had Momma. Once on the ship, Momma's dream was fulfilled. However, both were to learn that the outside was not an accurate reflection of the inside. In pretending to be what they were not, they got what they didn't want.

Poppa expected to show off his new bride to his drinking buddies. Poppa didn't know that Momma was a tiger who could play the part of a pussycat to get her prey. She had her prey, and now the tiger stripes would show. She would serve but not as a servant; she would be his but not as a possession to be shown as some war prize. Before Poppa could even think of taking charge, Momma did. Poppa didn't know what hit him.

As soon as Momma's ticket to America was secure, she dictated acceptable behavior to Poppa. Momma had a drinking father; she would not tolerate excessive drinking in her man. Poppa found that his threat of force or show of authority did not affect Momma except to increase her independent resolve. Momma made it through a war and a revolution. Alone, Momma met an army of men invading her town. After that, Poppa was just another man. He was not to be feared.

When Momma cruised past the Statue of Liberty, she knew she had it made. This was her Promised Land, her dreamland, and now it would be hers. She shivered with delights; she was entering into the land of promise with her new prince. Momma was on a high; this was as good as it could get. As with most highs, the only place left to go was down.

Momma was not prepared for what she saw when she got off the ship. The poverty was similar to that of the big cities of Germany. Perhaps, all big cities were the same. Maybe it would be different in smaller towns like Dayton. Maybe? It was not to be. Dayton (Ohio) was a medium-sized, go-go industrial town with its wealthy section and the not so wealthy. To her disappointment, Poppa took Momma to the not so wealthy section of town that was not unlike what she experienced in Germany. She traded one level of want for the same in another country. Worse, she was now married into want and poverty.

To Momma, Poppa was to blame. He should have told her of his economic status—that times were tough, and that America was a growing country of opportunity. Instead, Poppa painted a bright picture of life in America. Also, Poppa was a sharp dresser and looked rich. How was she to know? For that, Momma never forgave Poppa.

The reality of Poppa's financial status hit Momma hard, especially in memory of the baron who showed strong interest in her. To make matters worse, Poppa was the poorest among his friends and relatives, some of whom were affluent. Momma then remembered her father's forecast that she would end up with a peasant. Momma was born into poverty and now was locked into a lifetime of poverty. Momma started to dislike Poppa for his deception that would keep her in the claws of poverty.

Poppa had his faults, but he was not deceitful. Poppa persuaded Momma to come to America, the land of opportunity for those not afraid to work. Poppa was a hard worker; his future was in front of him. With a supporting helpmate, things could only get better. That was his hope.

There was humor in the above if one ignored the consequential tragedy. Both went to extraordinary means to get what they wanted, but what they wanted was not what they got. Both envisioned the ideal with their new mate; in reality, they created misery for each other. Poppa wanted a submissive wife who would support him as head of the house. Instead, he got an independent, strong-willed wife who would sap him of his energies and ambitions. Momma wanted to come to America to enjoy the realities of her fantasies. It was not to be. She would share her one life with Poppa in poverty.

It did not have to be; Poppa and Momma were hard workers, were disciplined, and self-sufficient. Had they applied their talents in mutual support, they would have fulfilled each other's dreams to overflowing. Unfortunately, they used their strengths in opposition, eroding whatever joy and happiness were left. If Momma had been supportive of Poppa, if Poppa were more loving and tender with Momma, if… However, it was not to be. Momma's lack of support made it more difficult for Poppa to show love, which only made Momma more opposed to Poppa. For that injustice, Momma would not support or submit to such a man.

After settling in Dayton, Poppa and Momma converted to a very conservative faith. Their new faith taught that Momma should support Poppa and that Poppa should love Momma even as he loved himself. Momma thought that she supported Poppa by washing his clothes, preparing food, and taking care of his children. Poppa said that he loved Momma. Momma challenged Poppa to show his love. To Poppa, he showed his love by living with Momma and making sure that she had food and shelter. Neither would go beyond those basics. Poppa could not show emotional love to someone who disliked him for his very being. Momma could not support someone who failed to give her the emotional love she needed and the economic security she so desired.

The above are strong and harsh evaluations, but that is the way I witnessed it, with Momma filling in the details. I loved my parents and thank God for them. To their credit, my parents persevered and tolerated each other because they made a marital commitment. Their marriage vow was sacred for better and for worse. Unfortunately, they experienced the worst in each other; fortunately, they never spoke divorce.

The Impossible Family

Anyway viewed, life is a miracle. Knowing the facts of life and knowing Poppa and Momma, it was