Monday 23 August 2021

Charlie Melfort

This is Klaus-Heinz Frischzeit (*2 April 1922, Trier, Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany – 1 July 2010, Melfort, Saskatchewan, Canada), I never met him, but I know his story from Burt Melfort, who also supplied the picture, but let me start at the beginning:

Klaus-Heinz turned eighteen in 1940 and fell desperately in love with Gertrud, wife of his much older brother Klaus-Werner, who had a son of fourteen named Hans. In an act of incalculable cruelty Klaus-Heinz killed his brother, who was sleeping in the backyard, by trusting in his ear a very sharp thin dark hardwood stick he found in the attic. There was no blood, no sign of external injury and the doctors concluded "natural causes". When Gertrud rejected Karl-Heinz' awkward advances and "Uncle Hans" became suspicious almost violent, even pretending to see his father's ghost, Karl-Heinz, in another bout of irrational anguish, went to the recruiting office and enrolled in the Wehrmacht. He went first to France and then to Northern Africa where he was captured by the Allies and sent to the POW Camp in Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada. Pretending to have farming skills and waiving his rights under the Geneva Convention, Karl-Heinz became a labourer in the rural community of Melfort, Saskatchewan. In 1946 when German POWs returned to (the now divided) Germany, the British government allowed him to stay as he married Ophelia, youngest daughter of Paul Danmark, his employer.  His name was unpronounceable to all around him, so he changed it officially and picked Melfort as a nod to the host community, first-name Charlie, what people called him anyway. The Melforts had five children who had children of their own: Burt was the eldest and Charlie's unabashedly favourite grand-son. One dark summer night, sitting on the porch looking out to nowhere, Charlie, by now in his eighties, told his story and showed Burt the sharp polished dark hardwood stick that he kept all these years. "Burt, meboy, this is where's y'all comes from!".



Saturday 21 August 2021

Edward Thomas

This is Phillip Edward Thomas (*3 March 1878 – 9 April 1917), I never met him as died in France during World War I, but let me start at the beginning:
The quiet Saturday early mornings are pleasant and the streets belong only to the dog walkers and the homeless. Casey was sniffing out the best grassy front-yard on Shanly when I, for no apparent reason, remembered Adelstrop. Edward Thomas was always among my favorite poets notwithstanding his relatively small volume of work, all written in a short three or so years. As father of daughter, the  opening lines of  "What Shall I Give You?" always choked me up

What shall I give my daughter the younger,
More then will keep her from cold and hunger?
. . . 

Picture credit Wikipedia under GNU and such, public domain Image copyright: Copyright expired 

So, once Casey makes her choice and makes, I go home and read meself some poetry, and, in the most respectful manner, I suggest so should you (too)!


Thursday 19 August 2021

Leonora Fitzroy


This is Leonora Fitzroy as I met her the other day at Pape and Harcourt. When she said her last name, I remarked that it was famously used by illegitimate children of the British royalty and Leonora said she knew, as she has an MA in History with a minor in Philosophy. She said people call her Leo as she is born in August and went on to say that, unfortunately, she didn't find a job in her chosen field and is currently a part-time lingerie model and volunteer for the Community Share Food Bank at The Church of the Ascension. We had that in common, I said (not de modelling, the volunteering). I asked if she'd like to have coffee and tell me her story and she said "Thank you, but that's my bus coming up".  I wished her good luck with all that stuff, said bye and walked South. When I turned around I saw her unlock her bike, put on her helmet and pedal away ... now I'm not even sure if her name is really Leo.




  

Monday 9 August 2021

Elke

This is Elke Fuchs-Werner as I met her recently at the Dineen Café at Yonge and Temperance. There are, she told me, three things she is fanatical about: Yoga, Bridge and the Opera. There are forty-eight things that she is passionate about: the Environment, Jazz, Cooking, Watercolor, Biking, Cats, Montserrat Caballé, Venice, Arsenal Football Club, Penne Arrabiata, Rembrandt, Schubert's Impromptus, Culatello de Zibello, Merlot, James Joyce, Denmark, Vanilla ice-cream, Raisins, Richard III, Paul van Himst, the Fortified Church of Bierthelm, Comfit de Canard, James Ensor, Jasper FForde, Boca Juniors, Grey Goose, Tabasco, Toronto Maple Leafs, Dogs, Blues, Carnaroli rice, John Irving, Eric Satie, Brunello di Montalcino, Jamon Pata Negra, d'Alambert, Cashews, Guiness Stout, Bucatini All'Amatriciana, Hamlet, Giraffes, the Color Blue, Chrysanthemums, Fernet-Branca, Peñarol Montevideo, Kandinsky, Zaha Hadid and Berlin. Elke confessed that there are two hundred and thirty three things she hates but did not supply a list. As a child she had a pet zebra called Fibonacci, her cousins from Arnstadt had a pony called Klement.