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* * * *
Timmy stood for a moment at the threshold of his room. At
their other house the closet had been next to his bed; the
monsters had been closer, but so had the light switch. He
could reach out from under the protective covers and turn off
the light: the only danger was in not jerking his arm back
under the sheet quickly enough. But in the new house the
light switch was here, by the door, all the way across the
room from his bed. He had worked out a deal which allowed
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him safe passage to his bed until the count of ten. Even
though he counted very slowly (he was usually in bed and
covered by "three"), he was still afraid. He was never sure
that he could trust his monsters.
He took a deep breath. He turned off the light and hurried
across the room to his bed.
He grabbed the sheet.
The sheet was moving...
It felt--
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Live, from Berchtesgaden
"In Düsseldorf, as in certain other Rhinish Hauptstädten,
there is a large yellow-brick building very close to the railroad
terminal. I am told that a great many good German Bürger
make their periodic, Kaabic journey to this yellow institution;
inside one is confronted by a bewildering array of charming
and less charming photos, blurrily enticing Kodachromes of
Mädchen that may be rung up in the manner to which one
has become accustomed.
"It is sometimes difficult for the uninitiated to know how to
react to this. Europe, by its very nature, is like this, in all
ways and throughout its continental extent. The pure
geographic propinquity of nations lulls the tourist's sense of
culture. How easy it is to cross a border and find oneself
immediately in an entirely different milieu of mores and
folkways. It is necessary to change your ethics at the booth
while you change your pounds sterling or kronor.
"Do you have inhibitions? Lose them, or be unhappy, for
sooner or later you will have one or another offended. No
matter how grotesque the practice, how bestial the behavior,
if you live Continental long enough you will find the
neighborhood where it is merely comme il faut. For some, it is
not the superficiality of `When in Rome ...' but a matter of
survival."
* * * *
"Mein Herr Doktor, how is it that she speaks so? What
language is it?"
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"It is English she speaks, Frau Kämmer. She is delirious;
oftentimes they will babble so in another language. But it is
strange that she is so coherent. It is almost as if she recites."
"Aber, Herr Freischütz, my Gretchen knows no English. It
cannot be English that she speaks."
"Far away now, beyond the political and other walls that
we have built, beneath the impossible burden of years, look:
Unter den Linden. Berlin! The mention of that brightest and
most sophisticated of capitals did not always carry with it the
indelible tinge of guilt, the subtlest pricks of fear. Unter den
Linden: no other avenue in metropolitan Europe quite held
the imagination of the literate world to such a degree; no
other city's showplace was ever so rich with the modish, the
absolute dernier cri. The broad, shaded way runs from the
former Royal Palace down to the Vopos at Checkpoint Charlie.
As in any large city, the Unter den Linden of old was
frequented by the ubiquitous Strassendirnen; but, whether or
not it was merely the effect of the reflection of old Berlin's
loveliness, these easier matches did not offend the grace and
charm of the street. It was only after the war that Berlin
learned shame.
"This shame was not previously totally unknown. It was,
however, unnecessary. Beginning with Carolus Magnus, or
Charlemagne, the Germans began their expansion eastward--
the notorious Drang nach Osten--late in the eighth century.
To this day the land to the west of the River Elbe is known as
the `old Germany,' and the land east, the `new Germany.'
Thus, historical precedent has given way to shame; the
shame is shared by those who know the old Germany, for
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these are immersed in the most ancient of traditions. The new
Germany is comparatively younger, but no one, not the oldest
Weisskopf, is able to remember the initial annexation.
Whatever shame is felt, therefore, is hereditary in nature. It
is false shame."
* * * *
"Guten Nachmittag, Herr Doktor."
"Ja, und auch Ihnen."
"Wie geht es Ihnen?"
"Sehr gut, danke. Ihre Tochter hat gut geschlafen. Wie
geht's Ihnen?"
"Ach, comme çi, comme ça. Pas mal."
* * * *
"Where is Germany? Do you find Germany in the
thousands of Volkswagens on the American highways? Is
Germany to be found by searching amongst the sausages and
waltzes and Buddenbrooks of the world? Where is Germany?
What, now, is Germany?
"Germany has traded Weltschmerz for ethischer
Fortschritt. The sensuousness of the Italians, the chauvinism
of the French, the snobbery of the British, the unbridled
passions of the Danish and the Swedes, the inscrutability of
the Finnish, all these are as nothing compared to the sincerity
of the German concern for morality. `May God punish the
sinful French' is a slogan for the masses; it is also, perhaps,
an indication of the direction the German Weltanschauung has
taken. It is no longer permissible to allow the nationalities of
our continent to squander their precious energies in lustful
abandon. It is time for a cleansing.
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