I have relatives who lived in West Berlin throughout the time it was walled-in and continue living there today. (By sad coincidence, the communists began erecting the "anti-fascist" wall on my grandfather's birthday. He lived near the famed Tempelhof airport and its air-bridge memorial.) Following the Berlin airlift, the German government built huge square warehouses throughout the walled city with sufficient provisions to feed and maintain the population for an entire year.
I and my family visited our aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents in West Berlin every few years, five times flying in from West Germany on Pan American airlines, the only airline the communists would allow. In those days, the West German government encouraged its citizens to stay in the island city through tax incentives.
The sixth time we took the train, seeing the armed guards on the platforms of every East German train station, none of which the train was allowed to stop at. My relatives lived near The Wall in southern West Berlin, and so it was a short walk to climb up some stairs and peer across the armed no-man's land.
On the most memorial trip, my uncle arranged the paperwork for us to visit East Berlin to see his uncle, who I recall had just five more years to wait for his car. I never did understand the desire of Western fellow-travelers for wanting to intrude the grayness of communism into our vibrant democratic-capitalistic society.
This afternoon, my dad emailed me:
I and my family visited our aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents in West Berlin every few years, five times flying in from West Germany on Pan American airlines, the only airline the communists would allow. In those days, the West German government encouraged its citizens to stay in the island city through tax incentives.
The sixth time we took the train, seeing the armed guards on the platforms of every East German train station, none of which the train was allowed to stop at. My relatives lived near The Wall in southern West Berlin, and so it was a short walk to climb up some stairs and peer across the armed no-man's land.
On the most memorial trip, my uncle arranged the paperwork for us to visit East Berlin to see his uncle, who I recall had just five more years to wait for his car. I never did understand the desire of Western fellow-travelers for wanting to intrude the grayness of communism into our vibrant democratic-capitalistic society.
This afternoon, my dad emailed me:
Got a phone call from [aunt] Ditta, they half-emptied one bottle of "Sect" already, Berlin is celebrating.
The Berlin wall coming down is one of the occasions where I remember exactly where I was standing when I heard about it. Typically this type of memory is devoted to unhappy news.
This was one of the occasions where me and my entire family ran to the tv to watch it. Being born in a communist country (now democratic) as well, it hit home pretty hard.
it was a very happy day.
Posted by: twitter.com/BennyShaviv | Nov 12, 2009 at 03:21 AM
I spent a long tour with the USAF sitting on the border of the old DDR (East Germany). The "fall of the wall" in 1988 was one of the happiest days of my life.
I too raised a glass of "sekt" (the German word for sparkling wines not from Champagne France) to celebrate the fall, and the liberation of distant relatives.
Posted by: Matt Kossler | Nov 17, 2009 at 06:36 AM