Things my father told me

My father told me, he

would never leave me,

I was eleven than and

my uncle had just committed

suicide, hung himself on the

cherry tree in front of his house.

My father told me, after

he hung my uncle off of that tree,

that I needn’t be afraid, he would

never do the same. I had already

lost him back then and I knew it.

My father never was a talker.

The things he told me are not many.

My father was a doer, so he taught me things.

Things my father taught me:

how to change the flat tire on my car,
how to play chess,

how to build an iron staircase,

how to build a brick wall and in it

a little door for the cats, so they could

freely walk in and out the pig stable,

how to walk in the woods,

how to ride my bicycle,

he taught me to be daring and climb

the mountains on paths, the mountain

people warned us not to take, because

they were much too dangerous for

greenhorns like us. My father climbed

mountains, other tourists never climbed,

because they listened to the mountain people,

who shook their heads about us daring greenhorns.

My father taught me how to smuggle

hard liquor over the border from Austria to Bavaria

and that it was best to spank children (my brother),

when they threatened to tell the police at the border

about all those bottles under our seats.

My father taught me that talking was stupid

and that my presence was often obnoxious

and not really wanted since I was a talker.

One day I told him I wanted to become a writer.

My father told me, that this was a good idea

and a calling I could not learn anywhere but

in real life: Live it daring and wild and write about it.

That’s what my father told me!


© Susanne Becker