Reminiscences and memories of an Arch-Teuton of the Hollmann Clan
It started with Helge who followed ancestral "wanderlust" to a Calvados chateau, a Riviera Beach and Ste. Maxine slopes and ended the quest in 1963 in England.
Strange news came then from the Isle of Wight : A female employee dropped a dinner plate in a hotel kitchen, a heavy reprimand followed, a fellow employee of the pre-Woodstock era, sent a pile of protest plates to the floor. Immediate dismissal followed. The two culprits got married several month later in November 1963 by a reverend Stringer (as far as I know). I had final examinations and could not attend the wedding.
1964 came the opportunity to meet the intruder into the Hollmann Clan. On the way to Ireland I stopped in either Lewisham or Sydenham. Helge and Bob shared a two and a half rental house with friends, the Stringers on the ground floor, the friends on the second floor, both parties shared a guest-room in the attic.
The brother-in-law, and also his friend, had a hippy-ish appearance, scraggly beards and owned each a motorcycle. My beard was not in full blossom, so we fitted. We sniffed and circled, no growling, a fire hydrant was not close by.
The final test of mutual approval was postponed and took place later on in several public houses. There were ales and bitters, stouts and a concerned Helge. The contestants were staunch supporters of their nation's brewing heritage and capacity. The house guest had his first pints, there were light and creamy froths and all the beverages had a surprising unexpected kick. Bob and I checked each other discreetly and Helge got more and more uneasy.
On the way home I fell over a short trimmed hedge unto a carpet bowling lawn. Bob could barely hide a little smile - a clear winner, defending the country's honor and brews. I barely made it to the guest-room in the attic.
Breakfast next morning "Where is Bob?" Helge: "Don't mention him, you should see our bed, by the way, did you pee out of the attic window?" There was no denying, neighbors had complained, and there was a shed with a metal roof under the window. The trouble, in my despair, was the unusual upwards sliding window. The two and a half dark staircases I could have never managed.
The brothers-in-law had formed a bond.
Stop-over again on my return voyage, we discussed Japanese architecture, ancient and modern and I admired Bob's propensity for proper English diction and grammar. He also showed me fermenting brews hidden under the staircase.
Back in Germany I met Bob's brother David in father/grandpa’s (Friedrich Christian's) cellar. David played bridge with officer's wives in the garrisons of the US occupation army and he had a knack for beer.
Present at the cellar meeting was among others Trudy, an attractive divorcee from Herborn. David had a case of beer at his feet under the table, his last words were "Trudy you are beautiful", then he slid under the table.
There the case of beer was orderly arranged with empty bottles.
1965 and 1966 I explored Ireland for 8 months, also working in Dublin, drinking beer with the Dubliners in the Hotel Majestic and with Luke Kelly at O'Donaghues, there after a scuffle with her entourage a dark haired lady paid me a beer. Much later I learned that it was Joan Baez.
On to and fro trips I always visited Helge and Bob. Domiciles had changed, the beer variety under the staircases was larger and Steffan did his first walk when the uncle was there.
The brothers-in-law became brothers more and more.
1967 Helge and Steffan visited us in Brig/Switzerland , Gitty just had Till and Steffan could name all tools and apparel in German in the Neckermann catalogue.
In October 1968 there was a short and close-to-tears meeting at the Port of Tilbury, Gitti, Dietger, Till ( 1 3/4) and Peter ( 6 month) were on their way to the Far West. Helge and Bob and Gitti's aunt Christa and uncle Tom came to the pier, the ocean liner "Alexandre Pushkin (now a days "Marco Polo") looming behind us.
Over the next 50 years we met each other either in England or in Germany and even once in British Columbia.
1977/78 The five of us ( Frank arrived in 1979, the only true Canadian) traveled in Europe in a VW-Camper with a longer visit in Reading. There were 5 Stringer boys now. Helge happily handled the increased brood.
The visitors brought two identical Gorky/Dinky cars for the twins, however one blue the other red. There was a bitter fight over the red one. In a way a good sign, the boys were not color blind like their uncles Jörg and Dietger.
Bob brewed five varieties of beer and showed me his shrine of worship in downtown Reading. A beautiful and well stocked toy and model railway store. A hobby which never left me from an early age on.
Near Reading were the Thames, Salisbury and Stonehenge.
The great change came with the Stringers move to the Isle of Wight. First there was the big house in Sandown, Helge had an eye for solid build ancient furniture, which could be had for bargain prices.
After many years in Sandown, there was a short intermezzo in a rented unit, during the time when the house of Bob's mother in Alverstone was completely renovated. Bob did a skilful job, with an exterior and interior design which would make any architect proud.
Next door lived Bob's sister Joan and husband, Joan, a warmhearted helpful sister and aunt.
The renovated house on the height of land with views over undulating fields and farm buildings hidden among trees. Highland cattle behind a fence across the narrow road.
For me the Isle of Wight was always a glimpse of an England-past, rural-serenity with a Pickwickian character. A Victoria/Albert - English/German reminder. An Isle of Wight - Hessian reminder from Saxon times when Wynfryth visited and helped to christianize the islanders and later on did a similar job to the Franks in Hessen. Tree-huggers never forgave him when he chopped down the mighty Donar oak in Fritzlar/Hessen. Wynfryth, then Boniface, got martyred in Frisia, by a local Greenpeace chapter. The Isle of Wight has the St. Boniface church and us Hessians have Bonifacius' tomb in Fulda.
Helge took me on a double-decker tour, we ate fish and chips high up and she showed me the donkey farm where a lady nursed retired donkeys and spared them the salami fate.
Bob showed me a mobile ice cream seller, the son is a famous movie tycoon [Anthony Minghella], Victoria’s summer refuge [Osborne House], the hotel where the composer Richard Strauss stayed twice, then Ryde where the "conspiracy man" lives.
At one time the island had red stag, wild boar. There are stone age, roman reminders, we visited the mosaics of one of the unearthed roman villas. The Isle of Wight was like Nyon at Lake Geneva, a retirement spot for the local wealthy [Romans] who didn't make it back to Italy.
Up to recently Bob send me mails indicating historic and unusual island events, showing his love and interest for the Isle of Wight.
We also shared a love for France, likely instilled by Helge, who spent a happy time there , I did my year there followed by several years in French speaking Switzerland, in the Hollmann case there might be some Huguenot genetics involved.
On my last visit to the Island we were already into our greying twilight years, Bob already underwent some major surgery and Helge strictly rationed the beer. She pretended not to see us when we sipped smuggled produce.
Bob invited me to a family reunion at Waterloo Station in London, we did a tour on the "Superwheel" [London Eye] and had top restaurant fare at Waterloo. Helge was happy to cook non-vegetarian fare for the brother - Bartwurst and Gulash.
I had my first encounter with a Battenberg, a cake after which a whole dynasty was named.
Before that Peter got married in Hope. Helge, Bob, Steffan, granddaughter Hermione came to British Columbia, they travelled Vancouver Island in a Camper.
Together we bar-hopped Victoria, there still was the Bengal room in the Empress, with a stuffed tiger and the last remnants of the Empire, pipe smoking sea captains and Hindu Kush majors with their gin glasses, barely holding on to crutches.
The wedding in Hope: In the Lake of the woods motel Bob produced a 1,14 Liter amount of single malt. Helge and Hermione fled to a motel room, Gitti went to bed. Bob, Steffan, Till and I tackled the bottle followed by two bottles of claret, to use a British term.
Bob's inquiry the next day "Did you use the window?" and I asked about his bed. A reminder of our first meeting.
Spring 2013 we met last, Helge and Bob were visiting Susi and Dieter. It was a sad meeting, Helge's illness quite advanced, she did not recognise her brother. Bob exhausted from travel and intensive care which would last from then on for many years.
Whenever I visited Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory I stopped at the Stringer House, there lived Anglican Bishop Isaac Stringer (1866 - 1934 ), may be not blood relation, but a reminder of the Stringer-Hollmann Clan.
You Stringer Boys had a wonderful father, you grandkids a great grandfather and the Hollmann nephews and only-niece a good uncle. It is a great loss and pity that Helge is not fully with you.
Kind regards und HERZLICHE GRUESSE.
— Dietger Friedrich Heinrich Hollmann - Uncle, grand- and grand-grand uncle, March 26, 2020
Dietger Hollmann, 27-Nov-2003
