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The strength that had been as a miracle in her body left and she half reeled across the floor, clutching at the back of the chair in which she had spent so many long days staring out over the tin roofs into the main street of Winesburg. In the hallway there was the sound of footsteps and George Willard came in at the door. Sitting in a chair beside his mother he began to talk. An impulse came to her. You will go to the city and make money, eh? It will be better for you, you think, to be a business man, to be brisk and smart and alive? The son shook his head.

I don t try. There isn t any use. I don t know what I shall do. I just want to go away and look at people and think. Again, as on the other evenings, they were embarrassed. After a time the boy tried again to talk. In the room the silence became unbearable to the woman. She wanted to cry out with joy because of the words that had come from the lips of her son, but the expression of joy had become impossible to her. You are too much indoors," she said. German blew: blies blight vereiteln, blies, blasen, wehen.

He always wore a dirty white waistcoat out of the pockets of which protruded a number of the kind of black cigars known as stogies. His teeth were black and irregular and there was something strange about his eyes. The lid of the left eye twitched; it fell down and snapped up; it was exactly as though the lid of the eye were a window shade and someone stood inside the doctor s head playing with the cord.

Doctor Parcival had a liking for the boy, George Willard. It began when George had been working for a year on the Winesburg Eagle and the acquaintanceship was entirely a matter of the doctor s own making. In the late afternoon Will Henderson, owner and editor of the Eagle, went over to Tom Willy s saloon. Along an alleyway he went and slipping in at the back door of the saloon began drinking a drink made of a combination of sloe gin and soda water. Will Henderson was a sensualist and had reached the age of forty-five.

He imagined the gin renewed the youth in him. Like most sensualists he enjoyed talking of women, and for an hour he lingered about gossiping with Tom Willy. The saloon keeper was a short, broad-shouldered man with peculiarly marked hands. That flaming kind of birthmark that sometimes paints with red the faces of men and women had touched with red German birthmark: Muttermal.

Sherwood Anderson 37 Tom Willy s fingers and the backs of his hands. As he stood by the bar talking to Will Henderson he rubbed the hands together. As he grew more and more excited the red of his fingers deepened. It was as though the hands had been dipped in blood that had dried and faded. Doctor Parcival appeared immediately after Will Henderson had disappeared. One might have supposed that the doctor had been watching from his office window and had seen the editor going along the alleyway. Coming in at the front door and finding himself a chair, he lighted one of the stogies and crossing his legs began to talk.

He seemed intent upon convincing the boy of the advisability of adopting a line of conduct that he was himself unable to define. It is not an accident and it is not because I do not know as much of medicine as anyone here. I do not want patients. The reason, you see, does not appear on the surface. It lies in fact in my character, which has, if you think about it, many strange turns. Why I want to talk to you of the matter I don t know. I might keep still and get more credit in your eyes. I have a desire to make you admire me, that s a fact.

I don t know why. That s why I talk. It s very amusing, eh? To the boy the tales were very real and full of meaning. He began to admire the fat unclean-looking man and, in the afternoon when Will Henderson had gone, looked forward with keen interest to the doctor s coming. Doctor Parcival had been in Winesburg about five years.

He came from Chicago and when he arrived was drunk and got into a fight with Albert Longworth, the baggageman. The fight concerned a trunk and ended by the doctor s being escorted to the village lockup. When he was released he rented a room above a shoe-repairing shop at the lower end of Main Street and put out German admire: bewundern, bewundere, bewunderst, bewundert, bewundre.

Winesburg, Ohio 38 the sign that announced himself as a doctor. Although he had but few patients and these of the poorer sort who were unable to pay, he seemed to have plenty of money for his needs. He slept in the office that was unspeakably dirty and dined at Biff Carter s lunch room in a small frame building opposite the railroad station. In the summer the lunch room was filled with flies and Biff Carter s white apron was more dirty than his floor. Doctor Parcival did not mind. Into the lunch room he stalked and deposited twenty cents upon the counter.

Preliminary Translations

It makes no difference to me. I am a man of distinction, you see. Why should I concern myself with what I eat. Sometimes the boy thought they must all be inventions, a pack of lies. And then again he was convinced that they contained the very essence of truth. I don t remember and anyway it makes no difference. Perhaps I am trying to conceal my identity and don t want to be very definite. Have you ever thought it strange that I have money for my needs although I do nothing?

I may have stolen a great sum of money or been involved in a murder before I came here. There is food for thought in that, eh? If you were a really smart newspaper reporter you would look me up. In Chicago there was a Doctor Cronin who was murdered. Have you heard of that? Some men murdered him and put him in a trunk. In the early morning they hauled the trunk across the city. It sat on the back of an express wagon and they were on the seat as unconcerned as anything.

Along they went through quiet streets where everyone was asleep. The sun was just coming up over the lake. Funny, eh--just to think of them smoking pipes and chattering as they drove along as unconcerned as I am now. Perhaps I was one of those men. That would be a strange turn of things, now wouldn t it, eh? My mother was poor. Sherwood Anderson 39 washing. Her dream was to make me a Presbyterian minister and I was studying with that end in view.

He was in an asylum over at Dayton, Ohio. There you see I have let it slip out! All of this took place in Ohio, right here in Ohio. There is a clew if you ever get the notion of looking me up. That s the object of all this. That s what I m getting at. My brother was a railroad painter and had a job on the Big Four. You know that road runs through Ohio here. With other men he lived in a box car and away they went from town to town painting the railroad propertyswitches, crossing gates, bridges, and stations.

How I hated that color! My brother was always covered with it. On pay days he used to get drunk and come home wearing his paint-covered clothes and bringing his money with him. He did not give it to mother but laid it in a pile on our kitchen table. I can see the picture. My mother, who was small and had red, sad-looking eyes, would come into the house from a little shed at the back.

That s where she spent her time over the washtub scrubbing people s dirty clothes. In she would come and stand by the table, rubbing her eyes with her apron that was covered with soap-suds. Don t you dare touch that money, my brother roared, and then he himself took five or ten dollars and went tramping off to the saloons. When he had spent what he had taken he came back for more. He never gave my mother any money at all but stayed about until he had spent it all, a little at a time. Then he went back to his job with the painting crew on the railroad.

After he had gone things began to arrive at our house, groceries and such things. Sometimes there would be a dress for mother or a pair of shoes for me. Winesburg, Ohio 40 down threatening us if we dared so much as touch the money that sometimes lay on the table three days. I studied to be a minister and prayed. I was a regular ass about saying prayers. You should have heard me. When my father died I prayed all night, just as I did sometimes when my brother was in town drinking and going about buying the things for us.

In the evening after supper I knelt by the table where the money lay and prayed for hours. When no one was looking I stole a dollar or two and put it in my pocket. That makes me laugh now but then it was terrible. It was on my mind all the time. I got six dollars a week from my job on the paper and always took it straight home to mother. The few dollars I stole from my brother s pile I spent on myself, you know, for trifles, candy and cigarettes and such things.

I borrowed some money from the man for whom I worked and went on the train at night. It was raining. In the asylum they treated me as though I were a king. That made them afraid. There had been some negligence, some carelessness, you see, when father was ill. They thought perhaps I would write it up in the paper and make a fuss. I never intended to do anything of the kind. I wonder what put that notion into my head. Wouldn t my brother, the painter, have laughed, though.

There I stood over the dead body and spread out my hands. The superintendent of the asylum and some of his helpers came in and stood about looking sheepish. It was very amusing. I spread out my hands and said, Let peace brood over this carcass. That s what I said. He was awkward and, as the office was small, continually knocked against things.

I have something else in mind. You are a reporter just as I was once and you have attracted my German ass: Esel, Arsch. Sherwood Anderson 41 attention. I want to warn you and keep on warning you. That s why I seek you out. It seemed to the boy that the man had but one object in view, to make everyone seem despicable. There was a fellow, eh? He despised everyone, you see. You have no idea with what contempt he looked upon mother and me. And was he not our superior? You know he was. You have not seen him and yet I have made you feel that.

I have given you a sense of it. He is dead. Once when he was drunk he lay down on the tracks and the car in which he lived with the other painters ran over him. For a month George Willard had been going each morning to spend an hour in the doctor s office. The visits came about through a desire on the part of the doctor to read to the boy from the pages of a book he was in the process of writing. To write the book Doctor Parcival declared was the object of his coming to Winesburg to live.

On the morning in August before the coming of the boy, an incident had happened in the doctor s office. There had been an accident on Main Street. A team of horses had been frightened by a train and had run away. A little girl, the daughter of a farmer, had been thrown from a buggy and killed. On Main Street everyone had become excited and a cry for doctors had gone up. All three of the active practitioners of the town had come quickly but had found the child dead. From the crowd someone had run to the office of Doctor Parcival who had bluntly refused to go down out of his office to the dead child.

The useless cruelty of his refusal had passed unnoticed. Indeed, the man who had come up the stairway to summon him had hurried away without hearing the refusal. All of this, Doctor Parcival did not know and when George Willard came to his office he found the man shaking with terror.

German adventure: Abenteuer, Erlebniss, Schicksale, Schicksal. Winesburg, Ohio 42 Do I not know what will happen? Word of my refusal will be whispered about. Presently men will get together in groups and talk of it. They will come here. We will quarrel and there will be talk of hanging. Then they will come again bearing a rope in their hands.

It may be put off until tonight but I will be hanged. Everyone will get excited. I will be hanged to a lamp-post on Main Street. When he returned the fright that had been in his eyes was beginning to be replaced by doubt. Coming on tiptoe across the room he tapped George Willard on the shoulder. The idea is very simple, so simple that if you are not careful you will forget it. It is this--that everyone in the world is Christ and they are all crucified. That s what I want to say. Don t you forget that. Whatever happens, don t you dare let yourself forget.

The night was warm and cloudy and although it was not yet eight o clock, the alleyway back of the Eagle office was pitch dark. A team of horses tied to a post somewhere in the darkness stamped on the hard-baked ground. A cat sprang from under George Willard s feet and ran away into the night. The young man was nervous. All day he had gone about his work like one dazed by a blow. In the alleyway he trembled as though with fright.

In the darkness George Willard walked along the alleyway, going carefully and cautiously. The back doors of the Winesburg stores were open and he could see men sitting about under the store lamps. In Myerbaum s Notion Store Mrs. Willy the saloon keeper s wife stood by the counter with a basket on her arm. Sid Green the clerk was waiting on her. He leaned over the counter and talked earnestly. George Willard crouched and then jumped through the path of light that came out at the door.

He began to run forward in the darkness. Behind Ed Griffith s saloon old Jerry Bird the town drunkard lay asleep on the ground.

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The runner stumbled over the sprawling legs. He laughed brokenly. German arose: entstand, entstanden, entstandst, entstandet, gingt auf, ging auf, gingst auf, entsprangst, gingen auf, entsprangt, entsprangen. Winesburg, Ohio 44 George Willard had set forth upon an adventure. All day he had been trying to make up his mind to go through with the adventure and now he was acting.

In the office of the Winesburg Eagle he had been sitting since six o clock trying to think. He had just jumped to his feet, hurried past Will Henderson who was reading proof in the print-shop and started to run along the alleyway. Through street after street went George Willard, avoiding the people who passed. He crossed and re-crossed the road. When he passed a street lamp he pulled his hat down over his face. He did not dare think. In his mind there was a fear but it was a new kind of fear.

He was afraid the adventure on which he had set out would be spoiled, that he would lose courage and turn back. George Willard found Louise Trunnion in the kitchen of her father s house. She was washing dishes by the light of a kerosene lamp. There she stood behind the screen door in the little shed-like kitchen at the back of the house.

George Willard stopped by a picket fence and tried to control the shaking of his body. Only a narrow potato patch separated him from the adventure. Five minutes passed before he felt sure enough of himself to call to her. Oh, Louise! The cry stuck in his throat. His voice became a hoarse whisper. Louise Trunnion came out across the potato patch holding the dish cloth in her hand.

In silence the two stood in the darkness with the fence between them. I ll come along.

Wo warst Du am 11. September? Where were you on September 11th? Fotos | Erinnerungen

You wait by Williams barn. It had come that morning to the office of the Winesburg Eagle. The letter was brief. He thought it annoying that in the darkness by the fence she had pretended there was nothing between them. Sherwood Anderson 45 along the street and passed a row of vacant lots where corn grew. The corn was shoulder high and had been planted right down to the sidewalk. There was no hat on her head. The boy could see her standing with the doorknob in her hand talking to someone within, no doubt to old Jake Trunnion, her father.

Old Jake was half deaf and she shouted. The door closed and everything was dark and silent in the little side street. George Willard trembled more violently than ever. In the shadows by Williams barn George and Louise stood, not daring to talk. She was not particularly comely and there was a black smudge on the side of her nose. George thought she must have rubbed her nose with her finger after she had been handling some of the kitchen pots. The young man began to laugh nervously. He wanted to touch her with his hand.

Just to touch the folds of the soiled gingham dress would, he decided, be an exquisite pleasure. She began to quibble. Don t tell me, I guess I know," she said drawing closer to him. A flood of words burst from George Willard. He remembered the look that had lurked in the girl s eyes when they had met on the streets and thought of the note she had written. Doubt left him. The whispered tales concerning her that had gone about town gave him confidence. He became wholly the male, bold and aggressive.

In his heart there was no sympathy for her. There won t be anyone know anything. How can they know? They began to walk along a narrow brick sidewalk between the cracks of which tall weeds grew. Some of the bricks were missing and the sidewalk was rough and irregular. He took hold of her hand that was also rough and thought it delightfully small. Winesburg, Ohio 46 They crossed a bridge that ran over a tiny stream and passed another vacant lot in which corn grew. The street ended. In the path at the side of the road they were compelled to walk one behind the other.

Will Overton s berry field lay beside the road and there was a pile of boards. Three times he walked up and down the length of Main Street. Sylvester West s Drug Store was still open and he went in and bought a cigar.


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When Shorty Crandall the clerk came out at the door with him he was pleased. For five minutes the two stood in the shelter of the store awning and talked. George Willard felt satisfied. He had wanted more than anything else to talk to some man. Around a corner toward the New Willard House he went whistling softly. On the sidewalk at the side of Winney s Dry Goods Store where there was a high board fence covered with circus pictures, he stopped whistling and stood perfectly still in the darkness, attentive, listening as though for a voice calling his name.

Then again he laughed nervously. Nobody knows," he muttered doggedly and went on his way. German awning: Markise, Sonnensegel, Plane. Three of the old people were women and sisters to Jesse. They were a colorless, soft voiced lot. Then there was a silent old man with thin white hair who was Jesse s uncle. It was in reality not one house but a cluster of houses joined together in a rather haphazard manner. Inside, the place was full of surprises. One went up steps from the living room into the dining room and there were always steps to be ascended or descended in passing from one room to another.

At meal times the place was like a beehive. At one moment all was quiet, then doors began to open, feet clattered on stairs, a murmur of soft voices arose and people appeared from a dozen obscure corners. Besides the old people, already mentioned, many others lived in the Bentley house. There were four hired men, a woman named Aunt Callie Beebe, who was in charge of the housekeeping, a dull-witted girl named Eliza Stoughton, who made beds and helped with the milking, a boy who worked in the stables, and Jesse Bentley himself, the owner and overlord of it all.

German ascended: stiegst, gestiegen, stieg, stiegen, stiegt, aufgestiegen, stiegst auf, stiegt auf, stiegen auf, stieg auf, erstiegst. Sherwood Anderson 49 By the time the American Civil War had been over for twenty years, that part of Northern Ohio where the Bentley farms lay had begun to emerge from pioneer life. Jesse then owned machinery for harvesting grain. He had built modern barns and most of his land was drained with carefully laid tile drain, but in order to understand the man we will have to go back to an earlier day.

They came from New York State and took up land when the country was new and land could be had at a low price. For a long time they, in common with all the other Middle Western people, were very poor. The land they had settled upon was heavily wooded and covered with fallen logs and underbrush. After the long hard labor of clearing these away and cutting the timber, there were still the stumps to be reckoned with. Plows run through the fields caught on hidden roots, stones lay all about, on the low places water gathered, and the young corn turned yellow, sickened and died. When Jesse Bentley s father and brothers had come into their ownership of the place, much of the harder part of the work of clearing had been done, but they clung to old traditions and worked like driven animals.

They lived as practically all of the farming people of the time lived. In the spring and through most of the winter the highways leading into the town of Winesburg were a sea of mud. The four young men of the family worked hard all day in the fields, they ate heavily of coarse, greasy food, and at night slept like tired beasts on beds of straw. Into their lives came little that was not coarse and brutal and outwardly they were themselves coarse and brutal.

On Saturday afternoons they hitched a team of horses to a three-seated wagon and went off to town. In town they stood about the stoves in the stores talking to other farmers or to the store keepers. They were dressed in overalls and in the winter wore heavy coats that were flecked with mud. Their hands as they stretched them out to the heat of the stoves were cracked and red. It was difficult for them to talk and so they for the most part kept silent. When they had bought meat, flour, sugar, and salt, they went into one of the Winesburg saloons and drank beer.

Under the influence of drink the naturally strong lusts of their natures, kept suppressed by German afternoons: Nachmittage. Winesburg, Ohio 50 the heroic labor of breaking up new ground, were released. A kind of crude and animal-like poetic fervor took possession of them. On the road home they stood up on the wagon seats and shouted at the stars. Sometimes they fought long and bitterly and at other times they broke forth into songs.

Once Enoch Bentley, the older one of the boys, struck his father, old Tom Bentley, with the butt of a teamster s whip, and the old man seemed likely to die. For days Enoch lay hid in the straw in the loft of the stable ready to flee if the result of his momentary passion turned out to be murder. He was kept alive with food brought by his mother, who also kept him informed of the injured man s condition. When all turned out well he emerged from his hiding place and went back to the work of clearing land as though nothing had happened. Enoch, Edward, Harry, and Will Bentley all enlisted and before the long war ended they were all killed.

For a time after they went away to the South, old Tom tried to run the place, but he was not successful. When the last of the four had been killed he sent word to Jesse that he would have to come home. Then the mother, who had not been well for a year, died suddenly, and the father became altogether discouraged. He talked of selling the farm and moving into town.

All day he went about shaking his head and muttering. The work in the fields was neglected and weeds grew high in the corn. Old Tim hired men but he did not use them intelligently. When they had gone away to the fields in the morning he wandered into the woods and sat down on a log. Sometimes he forgot to come home at night and one of the daughters had to go in search of him.

When Jesse Bentley came home to the farm and began to take charge of things he was a slight, sensitive-looking man of twenty-two. At eighteen he had left home to go to school to become a scholar and eventually to become a minister of the Presbyterian Church. All through his boyhood he had been what in our country was called an "odd sheep" and had not got on with his brothers.

Of all the family only his mother had understood him and she was now dead. German boyhood: Jugend, Kindheit. Sherwood Anderson 51 When he came home to take charge of the farm, that had at that time grown to more than six hundred acres, everyone on the farms about and in the nearby town of Winesburg smiled at the idea of his trying to handle the work that had been done by his four strong brothers. By the standards of his day Jesse did not look like a man at all. He was small and very slender and womanish of body and, true to the traditions of young ministers, wore a long black coat and a narrow black string tie.

The neighbors were amused when they saw him, after the years away, and they were even more amused when they saw the woman he had married in the city. As a matter of fact, Jesse s wife did soon go under. That was perhaps Jesse s fault. A farm in Northern Ohio in the hard years after the Civil War was no place for a delicate woman, and Katherine Bentley was delicate. Jesse was hard with her as he was with everybody about him in those days. She tried to do such work as all the neighbor women about her did and he let her go on without interference.

She helped to do the milking and did part of the housework; she made the beds for the men and prepared their food. For a year she worked every day from sunrise until late at night and then after giving birth to a child she died. As for Jesse Bentley--although he was a delicately built man there was something within him that could not easily be killed. He had brown curly hair and grey eyes that were at times hard and direct, at times wavering and uncertain. Not only was he slender but he was also short of stature.

His mouth was like the mouth of a sensitive and very determined child. Jesse Bentley was a fanatic. He was a man born out of his time and place and for this he suffered and made others suffer. Wir haben an dem Abend mit Sondergenehmigung des Hauptmanns Pizza in die Kaserne in Ahlen liefern lassen, weil niemand zum Abendessen gehen wollte. Auch haben nur wenige an diesem Abend geduscht oder sonst was unternommen. Ich bin am 7. Zwischendurch hingen wir immer wieder am Telefon, um rauszufinden, ob Familienmitglieder und Freunde o.

Wenn wir zum telefonieren raus sind, schien die Sonne, alles war ganz normal, kaum jemand hatte schon was vom Anschlag mitbekommen.

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Drinnen haben wir den Einsturz des 2. Towers live gesehen ohne zu kapieren, dass es live war, und zuvor die Menschen, die gesprungen sind. Doch unsere Mutter war da gerade im Garten, so sahen also mein Bruder und ich allein die ersten Bilder vom Anschlag, zu der Zeit brannte erst ein Turm. Wie recht er hatte, doch ich versuchte stur an einen Unfall zu glauben. Als ein Lehrgangsteilnehmer mir zurief, dass in New York die Twin Towers brennen, konnte ich das kaum glauben. Man kann sich vorstellen, dass etliche friedliche! Eine gute Freundin lebte und lebt in New York — von ihr bekam ich dann Informationen quasi aus erster Hand.

Eine andere Freundin aus Chicago beide selbst Amerikanerinnen wiederum bat mich, ihr Informationen zukommen zu lassen; sie misstraute den heimischen Medien. Ich war damals Zeitsoldat,ich wollte mein Soldatenleben mit einem Auslandseinsatz beenden. Die Stimmung bis zum Sofort rannte ich zum fernseher welcher in einem Besprechungszimmer stand. Schnell kamen fast alle Kollegen dazu und wir alle waren sehr geschockt und keiner traute sich etwas zu sagen.

Man sah kaum einen Amerikaner auf der Basis, fast alle waren vor dem Fernseher. September wurde das Lager rundum gesichert, und wir fanden uns alle wieder, wie wir in der schweren Splitterschutzweste und Keflanhelm am Schreibtisch sassen und arbeiten sollten. September machte ich gerade Pause von meinem Studentenjob. Ich erinnere mich, wie wir versuchten, unsere Verwandten zu erreichen.

Eine davon ist Krankenschwester in NYC. Ich arbeitete und arbeite noch immer beim Radio. Es bildeten sich Menschentrauben vor den Bildschirmen. Fassunglos verfolgten wir die Geschehnisse.

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Ich war schlichtweg entsetzt. Mein Kollege im Zimmer sprang sogar vom Stuhl auf. Am Abend des Die Gedanken zu sortieren fiel mir schwer. Niemand war zuhause und ich griff etwas zu essen und schaltete den Fernseher ein. Noch heute wirkt es abstrakt und unfassbar. Ich war verunsichert. Ich war damals gerade mit meinem Abiturjahrgang auf Abschlussfahrt in Rom. Da unser Nachmittagsprogramm in diesem Moment zunichte gemacht wurde, entschlossen wir uns, einfach ein bisschen durch die Stadt zu bummeln.

Wir flogen im September nach New York und waren am Ein Aneurysma im Gehirn war geplatzt. Im Bielefelder Gilead-Krankenhaus wurde Sie stundenlang operiert und sie wurde gerettet. September besuchte ich sie nun auf der Halbintensiv-Station. Es lief irgendwie immer der Fernseher. Aufgrund der Medikation hatte Sie schon diverse Halluzinationen gehabt. Ja, ja…dachte ich. Eine Intensivschwester betrat das Zimmer und fragte ob das nicht alles schlimm sei.

Wir haben es bis zu bitteren Ende gesehen. Ich war 20 und stand kurz vor dem Beginn meines Studiums, in der Uni hatten eine Woche zuvor die Vorbereitungskurse begonnen, die auch von mir besucht wurden. Damals wohnte ich noch bei meinen Eltern und fuhr 60 km mit dem Zug zur Uni. Kurz nach 15 Uhr wartete ich am Bahnhof und wusste noch nicht, was kurz zuvor in New York geschehen war.

In meiner Heimatstadt wartete ich gerade auf den Bus zu meinen Eltern, als meine Mutter mich anrief und wissen wollte, wo ich bin. Ich telefonierte mit meiner damaligen Freundin, die in Heidelberg wohnte. Ich war geschockt. Ich werde diesen Tag niemals vergessen…. Meine Schwester schaltete nach ca.

Einige der Unterhaltungssender, darunter z. Sounds bizarre, meinte Mandy, und schaute um sich. Im Weiteren hing ich dann dauernd vor CNN. So wie der Holocaust angeblich eine Einzigartigkeit in der Geschichte darstellt, bleibt wohl bis auf Weiteres auch jener Mit der unguten Ahnung, dass auch die irgendwann getoppt werden wird. Und nicht mehr weit fort.

Eine Prophezeiung. Etage, ein beklemmender Gedanke, als wie die Bilder sahen. Die Tatsache, dass die Twintower nicht mehr da waren, war unbegreiflich und unfassbar. Sie waren eingeschlossen und hatten es nicht mehr geschafft in die unteren Etagen zu gelangen. Wir lagen ganz entspannt an Deck und hatten keinen Schimmer, was sich gerade Dramatisches am anderen Ende der Welt abspielte.

Die Bilder waren unfassbar, wie aus einem Roland Emmerich Blockbuster. Wir schalteten den Fernseher im Teamraum ein — die Bilder waren furchtbar…. Turm ein Flugzeug geflogen sei. Wir dachten daran, wieviele Menschen dort wohl noch waren und es nicht mehr geschafft hatten. September war ich in Boulder, Colorado.

Ich wurde vom Anruf meines Freundes geweckt. Eltern und Freunde riefen immer wieder aus Deutschland an und wollte wissen, ob es mir gut geht. Am Abend bin ich dann alleine in die Berge gefahren, habe mich auf einen Stein gesetzt und geweint. Eine unglaubliche Traurigkeit hat mich erfasst. Ich arbeitete damals als Rettungsassistent auf einer Rettungswache.

Dieses allerdings mehr noch als der normale Flugsimulator-Fan etc. Erschreckende Bilder…. Nichts Wildes…. Also haben wir unseren Notarzt hinzu gezogen und sind dann einer entsprechenden Vorversorgung losgefahren. Unterwegs verschlechterte sich der Zustand der Patientin so, dass eine Narkose eingeleitet werden musste. September , meinem Geburtstag, war ich nachmittags gegen Anscheinend wusste keiner im Laden etwas. Als meine Mutter und ich um Er zeigte auf den Fernseher. Den ganzen Abend sah ich dann in meinem Zimmer fern.

September … ca zwei wochen vor meinem 11 Geburtstag. Es war gespenstisch still und ich merkte sofort, das hier und jetzt eines der schlimmsten und traurigsten Momente des Jahres passierte. Ich war alleine in Portugal im Haus meiner Eltern. Als ich den Fernseher eingeschaltet hatte, wurde berichtet, dass New Yorker in Panik geraten sind, weil sie ein Flugzeug am Himmel gesehen haben. Erst nach und nach ergab sich ein Bild der Ereignisse.

So nach dem Motto: Die Amerikaner haben in Lateinamerika so viel Leid angerichtet, also haben sie es nicht anders verdient. Ich war richtig genervt, dass ich keinen Zugriff auf die Seite bekam. Ich konnte ja nicht wissen, dass gerade wenig vorher das Flugzeug in den ersten Turm gekracht war.

Um kurz vor halb 4 beschloss ich dann nach Hause zu fahren und mir das ganze im Fernsehen anzuschauen. Nachdem ich dann zuhause war und den Fernseher aufdrehte, war auch der zweite Turm bereits zusammengebrochen…. September , war ich im Zuge meiner Hochzeitsreise auf dem Nordturm auf der Aussichtsplattform. Ich war so gegen 12 zuhause und fuhr um 14 Uhr mit einem Kumpel ins Nachbardorf um im dortigen Copy-Shop mal nachzufragen, was das Bedrucken von T-Shirts kostet. So gegen September in meinem Homeoffice am PC.

Also Radio angemacht — aber auch dort beschrieb der Moderatur nur, was er im Fernsehen sah. Klar war schon vorher, dass die Menschen in den oberen Stockwerken praktisch keine Chance hatten. Nur ich und wenige andere war verschont worden, weil sie bei anderen Arbeitegebern untergekommen waren, die uns diese Spezialausbildung bezahlten…. Flugzeuge ins WTC gerast. Vormittags wurde mein Sohn eingeschult! Als damaliger Student Artikel auf simflight. Der Menschheit eine Mahnung. Am Mittag des Septembers war ich mit meinem Vater und meinem Bruder grade auf dem Weg zum Baseballtraining meines Bruders.

Wir machten uns nicht viel daraus, da mir die Tragweite dieses Anschlags nicht bewusst war und mein Bruder und mein Vater dachten es sei ein Unfall. Als ca. Irgendwann begriff ich dann das dort was schlimmes passiert war, was auch sicherlich nichts mit einem Unfall zu tun hat. Interessanterweise ist der Klasse, genau erinnern kann.

Auch wenn man beide Ereignisse nicht miteinander vergleichen kann hat mich die Atomkatasdrophe in Fukushima dieses Jahr an den Ich war in der Schule und unsere Lehrerin hat uns aufgetragen mit unseren Handys ins Internet zu gehen um Neuigkeiten zu erfahren. Diese Szene wie fast alle fassungslos auf die Bilder auf ihren Handys starrten erinnerte mich an den Schockzustand der auf dem Weg nach hause im Auto herrschte. Mir ist das alles nicht geheuer.

Am Nachmittag des Irgendein Idiot hatte ein Hochhaus in New York mit einem Flugzeug getroffen, sehr witzig, haha, der hatte sicher Tomaten auf den Augen. Berlin oder doch Frankfurt? Irgendwo in Asien?! Wenn es wirklich wild wird? Nie im Leben…Wann werde ich sie wieder sehen? Der gepackte Rucksack steht immer noch neben dem Bett. Ein Handy hatte ich damals noch lange nicht.

Mein erster Gedanke war, die Seite sei Opfer eines Hackerangriffs geworden. Als ich kapierte, dass das real war, war ich geschockt wie ganz selten. Na gut. Die ersten Bilder des Towers und mir wurde ganz anders. Es war einfach schrecklich!!! Um 17 Uhr hatte ich einen Termin und bis dahin war noch etwas Zeit. Nachrichten im ZDF. Viel Aufmerksamkeit wollte oder konnte? Dort waren Livebilder und aufgeregte Moderatoren spekulierten: ein technisches Versagen der Maschine, Herzinfarkt des Piloten, an einen Terroranschlag wurde anfangs nicht gedacht. Ich beruhigte meine Freundin am Telefon und legte dann auf.

Mein Beifahrer fragte gleich, was denn los sei. Und wir auf dem Weg zum Frankfurter Flughafen. Meinen Kunden noch weniger, denn die mussten noch fliegen… Dort angekommen, lies ich Sie dann auch direkt am Eingang zu den Abfertigungshallen nur aussteigen und parkte noch nicht einmal. Die Angst bzw. Auch mit meiner Mutter und meinen Geschwistern telefoniert. Ich hatte selbst aber noch keine Bilder gesehen. Da ich noch zwei Stunden zu fahren hatte und auch endlich was essen musste es war wohl schon ca. Dabei dann auch erste Bilder auf n-tv gesehen.

Ich wollte nur noch nach Hause. Endlich angekommen, lies ich alles stehen und liegen und setzte mich vor den Fernseher. Es hat mich sehr mitgenommen. Mit 31 Jahren!!! Ich blieb noch bis 3 Uhr nachts vor dem Fernseher und konnte auch im Bett nicht so schnell einschlafen. Doch ich hoffe weiter, dass ich mich irre. Genau wie der Autor dieser Seite war ich am Mein erstes Mal, lange ersehnt. Mit dem Einschlag verschwand das Bild. Ein anderer Sender wurde gesucht. Nie wieder danach sehnte ich mich so nach Kommunkation.

Meine Arbeitszeit fing so um 9 Uhr jeden morgen an. Stock war, erfuhr ich was los ist. Das war eine sehr weise Entscheidung. Ich lebte zu der Zeit noch in Greifswald, mein Studium hatte ich fast beendet. Ich wollte schnell die Nachrichten um 3 sehen. Ich dachte auch:Was ist mit Europa? Trifft es uns heute auch noch? Vielleicht Berlin? Frankfurts Skyline? Klasse der Oberstufe.

Ich war gegen 13 Uhr nach Hause gekommen und hatte mich nach dem Mittagessen hingelegt, als mich um kurz vor drei eine Freundin anrief. Ich schaltete den Fernseher ein und schon kamen mir die Bilder der Twin-Towers entgegen. Ich dachte im ersten Augenblick, dass es sich um einen neuen Film handelt, der in allen Nachrichten besprochen wird. Wie soll man in diesem Alter auch begreifen, was da vor sich geht?

Mein Vater kam nach Hause und ich berichtete ihm, was da gerade ablief. Dann wurde es Zeit, dass ich zur Tanzschule ging. DIe Tanzstunde lief wie immer ab. Little did we know it would change the world that much. Das sieht ja aus, wie bei so einer kontrollierten Sprengung?! Ich hatte mich nach der Schule mittags an meinen Schreibtisch gesetzt um zu lernen und machte kurz das Radio an. Ich rannte nach oben zu meiner Mutter die telefonierte. Meine Mutter verstand erst nicht worum es ging und wollte dass ich den Fernseher wieder ausmache.

Ich rief meine Freunde auf dem Handy an, die noch Nachmittagsschule hatten, aber dort hatte es sich auch schon rumgesprochen. Wir konnten nicht fassen, was wir sahen. Immer wieder die gleichen Bilder. Immer wieder war ich fassungslos. Meine Oma lebte in den USA. Mein bester Freund ist Amerikaner und wohnt in Boston. Das Land ist mir nah.

Statt dessen wurde ein Requiem gespielt. Ich glaube von Verdi. Die Musik war unglaublich. Jetzt hatten auch wir einen Tag, von dem jeder wusste, wo er ihn verbracht hatte. So wie unsere Eltern, die wussten, wo sie waren, als Kennedy erschossen wurde. Ich war 18 und ging noch zur Schule. Um Zu Hause habe ich ein Bad genommen und auch das Radio lief, aber in mein Buch vertieft habe ich immer noch nichts mitbekommen. Da war aber noch gar nicht klar, was los war.

Ich bereitete unsere Hochzeit vor, die am September statt fand. Ich war im 6. Als ich kurz mal aufs Klo ging lief in unserm Ziviwohnzimmer schon der Fernseher. Es war mein September war ein Dienstag. Dienstags ist Kinotag. Ich war am Nachmittag mit Freunden also im Kino. Danach wollten wir zu mir und Pizza machen.

So wie man eben Geburtstag gefeiert hat, damals. Daraus wurde nicht, da die Welt nicht mehr die war, die sie vorher war. An den Tagen um dem September schaue ich nicht fern. In weniger als einem Monat wird sich die Welt an dieses schreckliche Ereignis erinnern und den Opfern gedenken.

Gearbeitet hat an dem Tag keiner mehr richtig. Abend dann weiter Live-TV etc. Als Startseite war bei mir Yahoo eingerichtet, welche immer die neuesten Ereignisse anzeigte. Es liegt in Greenwich Village und hat eine Dachterrasse, auf der alle Mitarbeiter die Katastrophe beobachtet haben. Gott sei Dank ist niemanden meiner Bekannten etwas passiert. Ich war nicht mal zwei und war zu hause wahrscheinlich wie so oft damals am weinen.

Es war etwas seltsames in der Luft. Meine Mutter hat mich zu Nachbarn geschickt! Er musste dem Verteidigungsausschuss Rede und Antwort stehen. Dies war kein Unfall, dies war etwas, das sich jeder schnell formulierten Stellungsnahme entzog. Ich wohnte damals in der Einflugschneise des Hamburger Flughafens. Der Tag, an dem ich es erfuhr, war der Am Abend dann der Schock. Ach, ja? Ich konnte mir nichts darunter vorstellen, kannte zudem die Twin Tours gar nicht und arbeitete weiter.

Kaum zu Hause angekommen, schellte das Telefon, hast du das schon gesehen, mach den Fernseher an, sagte mein Freund mir. Auch die Tage danach verlebte ich im Schockzustand. Ich bin in die Kirche gegangen, habe ein Windlicht in mein Fenster gestellt. Wenn ich heute die Bilder sehe, denke ich wieder an diesen Ablauf. Selbst wenn ich jetzt hier meine Erinnerung an diesen Tag aufschreibe, kann ich es nicht verhindern. Erst wenige Wochen vorher waren die Bilder von einem Ausbruch des Vulkans um die Welt gegangen — jetzt aber war alles ruhig, es war herrliches Wetter, und alle waren begeistert von der Tour.

September unfassbaren Schrecken und enormes Leid erlebten. On that moment, I was in Malta in a meeting where all Mediterranean Country representatives were discussing how to best protect the Mediterranean Sea from environmental accidents! In the meeting room were present: Palestinians, Israelis, Libyans… The first rumour coming from the French delegate was that a terroristic attack with involvement of Palestinians happened in NY.

The meeting was cut and every one was watching TV to better understand the terrible situation…. Es war meine Mutter, die von der Arbeit aus anrief. Irgendwann gegen Uhr konnte ich nicht mehr, ich war wie in einem Schockzustand. Ich nahm die Leine von Lucky und ging mit ihm noch mal eine Runde spazieren — ich musste einfach nochmal raus. Michael in Ahlen — eine katholische Schule in der schuleigenen Kapelle einen Gedenkgottesdienst mit einer Gedenkminute abgehalten. September zu Gedenken. Ich war — wie so oft — mit meinen beiden Kleinkindern auf dem Spielplatz und dort verabredet mit einem Freund meines Sohnes und dessen Vater, der im Laufe des Nachmittags auf sein Handy schaute und meinte: Komisch, in New York ist ein Flugzeug in die Twin Towers gecrasht.

Aber das war jenseits von dem, was man begreifen kann. Ich sass am So unglaublich klang es. Ich erinnere mich noch daran, dass da zeitweilig von 30 Toten in New York die Rede war. Erst am September wurde unser Flug nach Atlanta fortgesetzt. Ich finde es bemerkenswert, dass ich mich noch sehr gut und sehr detailliert an diesen Tag erinnern kann. Generell hab ich wenig Erinnerung an die Zeit in diesem Alter, aber diesen Tag werd ich nie vergessen.

Komischer Weise war ich an diesem Tag morgens beim Friseur. Danach bin ich nach Hause und hab den Fernseher eingeschaltet. Die Hilflosigkeit und Fassungslosigkeit der Ereignisse die sich dann abgespielt haben, hat mich total beeindruckt. Ich kam mir vor wie in einem Film. Als dann die Nachricht einging, dass auch ein Flugzeug ins Pentagon eingeschlagen ist, wusste ich nicht mehr wo mir der Kopf steht. So etwas gibt es wirklich.

Das waren so meine Gedanken. An arbeiten war nicht mehr zu denken; wir machten den Laden dicht und den restlichen Tag verbrachte ich vor dem Fernseher. Fassungslos, entsetzt und weinend. Als ich dann nach dem Arztbesuch zu Hause ankam, habe ich sofort den Fernseher angeschaltet und fassungslos auf die Bilder aus New York gestarrt. I had just crossed the Holland tunnel on the way to a meeting in New Jersey when the first plane hit. In the office building where I was having the meeting they took everyone into the cafeteria where we watched the first tower clasped. As the last ten years played out, I think our government has only destroyed our country by so many bad decisions.

Also ich kann mich noch gut daran erinnern. Ich war im zweiten Lehrjahr als Kfz — Mechaniker und ging nach der arbeit in die Fahrschule nach der Fahrschule muste ich noch auf den Bus warten. Bis dahin war die Welt ja noch in ordnung. Freundin: Hey basti du wirst nicht glauben was Passiert ist!

Ich: Ne was den schon wieder Stress mit deiner Schwester. Oh warte mal in das Pentagon ist auch eins gekracht. Oh mein got! Ich: Wie? Freundin Nein das ist ernst! Ich: Ja bin ja gleich zuhause dann schau ichs mir im Fernsehen an! Dazu sagte ich ja! Ich bin um Uhr nach Hause gekommen. Ich habe mich zu ihm gesetzt und wir haben gemeinsam die Schreckensbilder aus New York angeschaut.

Zusammenleben in Dillingen Saar. Sustainabel Trust. Ich erinnere mich, dass ich aufhorchte, als am Wie auch. Wer konnte die furchtbaren Ereignisse am Ich sah die Bilder aus New York. Es war einfach unfassbar, was da geschah. Was kann ich tun? In Dillingen leben viele Muslime. Wie mochte es ihnen gehen?

Sonntag, Er betonte, welch hohen Wert Friede und Friedfertigkeit im Islam darstellen. Ich hoffe sehr, dass dies zum gegenseitigen Vertrauen nachhaltig beigetragen hat. Ich habe wie jeden Morgen hier im australischen Adelaide das Radio angeschaltet. Wir stellten den Fernseher an, und konnten es kaum glauben, was da geschehen war. Welcher Hass muss in diesen Menschen sein, fragten wir uns, um so etwas zu tun.

Wir haben den Fernseher den ganzen Tag angehabt und viel geguckt, was wir sonst nie machen. Was nun? Australier sind auch umgekommen, aber eine umfassende Liste wie sonst bei Katastrophen gab es nicht. Ich war frisch in der Ausbildung bei einem Computerunternehmen in Hamburg. Es war nicht viel zu tun und das Radio lief, dann kamen die Meldungen. Einen Fernseher hatten wir nicht. Bald knickte die Serverleistung vom Spiegel ein, das Aktualisieren dauerte Minuten. Doch die Berichterstattung im Radio war dennoch viel langsamer.

Gebannt, schockiert, paralysiert starrte ich auf den Monitor, den Finger stehts auf dem Aktualisierungsknopf. Noch vor dem Feierabend um Abends hatte ich noch Bandprobe mit meiner Punkband. Nach der Probe sah ich noch bis tief in die Nacht fern — und surfte nebenbei im Internet, mit unstillbarem Hunger nach den aktuellsten Nachrichten.

Etwas hat sich am Nachrichten unmittelbar — und nur die, die mich wirklich interessieren. Seither habe ich nur noch sporadisch mal eine Tagesschau angesehen. Ich hatte eine Besprechung mit einem meiner neuen Mitarbeiter. Auf einmal rief mein Vater auf meiner neuen Dienstnummer an. Morgens gehe ich zur Post und gebe die letzten Postkarten auf. Danach will ich zum Guggenheim-Museum in den Norden Manhattans. Ein Wolkenkratzer scheint zu brennen. Dichte Rauchwolken quellen aus den oberen Geschossen. Ich gehe auf die Unfallstelle zu.

Bei einem gewissen Abstand mache ich halt. Es handelt sich um einen terroristischen Anschlag. Zwei Passagierflugzeuge wurden gekidnappt und als fliegende Bomben benutzt. Die umherstehenden Amerikaner sind, wie ich, entsetzt. Dann passiert das Unfassbare. Der erste Turm bricht zusammen. Ein Grollen. Aufschreie der Umherstehen. Menschen fallen sich in die Arme und weinen.

Vorher sah ich Menschen aus den Stockwerken springen. Es ist ein entsetzliches Desaster, das sich vor meinen Augen abspielt. Zivilisten sind wieder Opfer des Terrors geworden. Ich begebe mich in Hotel und rufe zuhause an, dass mir nichts passiert ist. Aufatmen dort. Ich gehe in eine Kirche an der 5th Avenue. Wir lesen den 46 Psalm der Bibel.

So kann ich die Sache besser verarbeiten. Sie nennen Namen. Genken an die Menschen, die bei der Katastrophe des World Trade Centers starben oder verletzt wurden. Sinnlos, so sinnlos. My colleagues from Germany, Latvia, and the US and I were just beginning a meeting in my apartment when one of their wives called and told me that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. I had just bought a tiny, used TV the week before, so I set it up on my dining table. We just kept staring at the little screen—not believing what we saw—as the second plane flew into the second tower.

For the next two weeks the TV was on every minute I was at home as I struggled to understand what was happening in my country. So etwas gab es nicht! Aber es schien real zu sein. The socialists did it. The capitalists are still doing it. The story in German above is about Absolute madness. It is a story of the non plus ultra of insane, deluded modernist and Bauhaus city planning and architecture.

The city leaders of Halle have this huge ugly space called Riebeckplatz. It was once a city square and major intersection. Then in the 60's, obsessed--as most city "leaders" are--with "being modern", they simply did the American "redevelopment" thing and wiped the whole area off the face of the earth. What the American and English mad-bombers declined to do to the city, the city leaders decided to do to itself.

They did it in the late 40's. They did it again in the 50's, Then again in the 60's and, that was not enough, so they did it in the 70's and started clearing out whole old neighborhoods in the 80's. It was the modernist sickness. But, hey, the idiocy was resistant anddespite the growing wisdom in the rest of the world that old cities are, y'know, nice places--they couldn't stop there. After The Wall fell, so did more buildings in Halle. The demolitions didn't stop in the 90's AND they kept on building Borgitekturbut even worse than the 60's and 70's: everything reduced to gray horrid death boxes, dead concrete and glass cubes.

Then came the Turn of the Millennium and the idiots just The mayors kept talking about "modern buildings for a modern city. But they are not aloneyep, the planning department defends all things modern. The disease--and it certainly can be defined that way--extends to the city Landmarks Department who can imagine these horrid Borg Boxes in a perverse harmony with the beautiful traditional buildings that they denigrate by being next to. And here we are in late and this year saw supposedly landmark-protected buildings torn down.

If Margaret Mead were alive today she would come here for her anthropological studies instead of heading to the South Pacific. Her book would be called "Coming of Age in the Age of Ugliness. They plunked down two new intrusive modernist pieces of garbage in the midst of all the beauty! It makes one question whether they are qualified to be anthropologists.

Certainly, city leaders all over the U. Halle is right in the middle of Germany. Leipzig 25 miles away was fire-bombed. Dresden is 90 miles away and was fire-bombed. Berlin is miles away and was bombed relentlessly. Halle was spared by the grace of God. And how have the city leaders, the architects, the building contractors and the design schools shown their gratitude?

By tearing down what was saved from fiery destruction. What a bunch of ingrates, selfish monsters and egotistical idiots. And that's just the description of the architects! There are city council members who are pastors of beautiful churches and they vote for the continuing destruction. And, yes, "ordinary" citizens fought against the destruction. And, yes, of course, they had very little influence under the socialist government.

You and I are not in the big club. But why is "Riebeckplatz" such an extraordinary case of modernist madness? Look at the photo below showing Riebeck Square and its surrounding neighborhood. The hotel marked with yellow and red--and buildings along the street behind it--were hit by bombs near the end of the war and mostly destroyed.

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Remember, though, that there was no mass bombing of Halle. The rest of the buildings in the photo survived the war. The three blue circles you see at the left are the only buildings in the photos still standing today. The entire rest of the neighborhood was wiped out by the glories of modernism with a socialist face. Halle built a whole new neighborhood based on LeCorbusier's insane psychopathic ideas. It is called Neustadt New City. He was no "green fields" kind-of-guy.

Obviously, what happened to the beautiful neighborhood around Riebeck Square was based on LeCorbusier's dangerous and unproven nonsense. AND remember all the nincompoops pretending to be city planners and architects here in Germany worship , friggin' worship LeCorbusier. There will be a whole separate series of photo-articles and essays about that and the coming anniversary of the founding of The Cult of Ugliness. It all relates to the madness of the destruction of this neighborhood. And just what did those East Germans in the 60's want to build to show the glory of modernism? So, that stuff above became your greeting as you arrived and departed from the main train station.

And this just absolutely proves why there have to be huge, I mean yuuuge, celebrations next year for the th anniversary of the founding of The Cult of Ugliness. The remnant of Bauhaus in Dessau, Bauhaus's designated final sandbox, is building a cement and glass square box on a city square. They call the box "a museum. Well, back to Riebeckplatz So, they decided to tear down the two highrise apartment buildings.

Leaving us with:. Well, that fixed everything. Well, not quite. You will notice in the middle right center of the above photo what looks live a cement Frisbee ring. And you are right. In the U. Before the basement strip-mall was built, an "average" citizen warned at a meeting that the concept was unworkable. They laughed him out of the room. What is also not a good idea is to dig the ground out everywhere so that pedestrians can walk around in the world's largest open-air basement. Remember those utopian Jetson-like drawings from the 's of future cities built up in layers of parking and apartments and high-rise bridges and flying cars think Bruce Willis Well, at least they had the good-sense to put the trains and parking underground--not the people.