Wednesday, January 27, 2021

Edelweiss

      


    My grandfather served in World War Two. He received a Purple Heart, and numerous additional commendations, for his service. By the time he retired he was a major in the US Army, and the father of my mother and uncle. 

     Grampy sang. A lot. One of his favorite pieces was “Master of the House” and another was “Edelweiss.” He was the jolliest, most generous human being I’ve ever met. He called himself “The Last of the Big Spenders.” He wasn’t wealthy, or anything, but he liked to dine out and go to the movies. Usually it was Carl’s Jr., and I mean probably five days a week it was Carl’s Jr. He approved of the salad bar.


     One day, while Grampy ate his salad, a mentally challenged employee was in tears because he lost his wallet. Grampy returned after his shift to drive him to his stops at the light rail to see if they could find it. They didn’t so Grampy gave him some money to replace what was lost and took him home.


     We changed it up on our way to see “Schindler’s List,” opting for McDonald’s. That’s where he told the story.


     September 2, 1945. He and another serviceman took a Jeep to let people know the war was over. They found a small village, where an ancient man was posted with a rifle. Grampy (Captain Paul A. Weakland) approached the man to tell him the news.


     “Großvater der Krieg ist vorbei!” Grandfather the war is over!


     The old man wept. Through his tears he saw a white flower growing through the cracks of the rock, on which he was sitting. “Edelweiss,” he whispered, reaching for the flower.


     Gunfire rang out, and the man fell, dead. The captain’s companion believed the man was reaching for his rifle.


     Grampy’s eyes were so far away. I ate french fries like a machine, daring not to interrupt. He spoke of later liberating Jewish victims from the camps. They barely looked human, he said. Pitiful. Hardly alive. 


     He was a different man as he spoke. I saw the man who’d suffered severe alcoholism for most of my childhood, and I now understood how the disease had so easily tempted him.


     We sat through “Schindler’s List” and I sneaked looks at his dear face, which remained as stone, throughout the film.


     He drove me home after, without a word. However, he sang:


Edelweiss, Edelweiss

Every morning you greet me

Small and white, clean and bright

You look happy to meet me

Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow

Bloom and grow forever

Edelweiss, Edelweiss

Bless my homeland forever

Edelweiss, Edelweiss

Every morning you greet me

Small and white, clean and bright

You look happy to meet...Me...