Earlier this month, Ingeburg passed away, at the age of 89. In the Episcopal church we include in our prayers people whose lives are closely linked with ours. Ingeburg’s life was linked to mine, and while this might not be the usual post, I wanted to write about her. Ingeburg was the aunt of my former partner, Donald. Donald graciously shared her with me and she became my aunt too.
Ingeburg was born in Dresden, Germany, at the same time as the Nazi’s were rising to power. Her family owned fur stores in Dresden. Dresden was a jewel of a city – the Venice of the north. The city center is especially beautiful, with the Zwinger Palace, the Semper Oper, the Frauenkirche and the Gruenesgewoelbe. At the height of the war, when Ingeburg’s father was off in the military, the family moved to the country to escape the hardships of the city. Food was scarce during the war. Fortunately, through the fur stores the family had relationships with farmers in the country, as they stored the furs in caves to keep them cool. The family bartered the furs for food. The war was nearly at an end when the allied forces bombed Dresden. Carpet bombs were dropped from the sky creating an enormous fire. It is estimated as many as 25,000 people died. It was one of the unspeakable atrocities of the war. Having moved from the city, Ingeburg’s immediate family survived.
After the war, her father was reunited with the family, after reading signs on a fence listing their whereabouts. Dresden was obliterated so they could not go home. Instead they went to Berlin, where the father took a job as an accountant. Something was amiss with the books the father was keeping and a colleague let him know the Russians intended to arrest him. The family immediately fled to Wiesbaden, Germany, where Ingeburg remained the rest of her life.
Like Dresden, Wiesbaden is a lovely city. In the nineteenth century it was the playground of rich and royal patrons from around the world. The center of the city is dominated by the Kur Park, which includes a lovely opera, a casino and a theatre. It was this casino that featured in Dostoyevsky’s novel, The Gambler. The rich visitors built sumptuous mansions lining the streets, many of which still exist today. Wiesbaden had largely escaped the bombing during the war and being intact it became a military command for the American forces. Elvis Presley was famously stationed in Wiesbaden.
Ingeburg came of age in Wiesbaden and eventually married Cornelius. I met her for the first time about 28 years ago. At the time she and Cornelius were close to retiring, she from ZDF television and Cornelius from the Road Commission for the state of Hessen.
Ingeburg was a lovely person, she took delight in small, but important pleasures – good food, good music, good company and privacy. She and Cornelius lived in the same 2 room apartment for the rest of their lives.
When we visited Ingeburg we often went out to eat. She was a good cook, but eating out was an occasion! One of the places we most often frequented was Schloss Johannisberg. This is a delightful small palace surrounded by a vineyard that slopes down to the Rhine River. The last occupant of the palace was Princess Tatiana von Metternich. She was born a Russian princess and she, along with her sister, Marie, fled the Russian revolution in the same boat as the Dowager Empress. Marie, went on to work as a secretary in the Nazi regime and penned a fascinating account, The Berlin Diaries 1940-1945, After Tatiana married Paul von Metternich they lived in the family estate in Silesia. Near the end of the war, the Russians began advancing toward Silesia, prompting the family to load up what they could into a wagon and walk across Germany to Schloss Johannisberg. Unfortunately, just before they arrived the palace was bombed. The family restored the palace and it became a thriving place, with a working vineyard, restaurant, and annual music festival.
Main entrance to the Palace. 
Looking across the vineyards to the Rhine river.
If we were visiting in Spring, we always ate Spargel – the German word for asparagus. Unlike the asparagus we usually see in the United States, spargel is white. The plants are mounded with soil and covered with tarps to keep the sun from hitting the stalks. The flavor is more subtle than green asparagus. Hollandaise sauce is a common accompaniment. Ingeburg loved spargel and would savor every mouthful. I am considering growing asparagus – it depends on the deer population. If you have any thoughts, please let me know.
Another place we often visited was Kloster Eberbach. This was an ancient monastery nestled in wooded hills. It was a magical place and had it’s own vineyard as well.
Germans are generally very direct. If they want to ask a question, they will. If they want to express an opinion they will. Sometimes this resulted in an awkward situation. One day I took Ingeburg to her favorite fish restaurant in Wiesbaden. She liked to go there because the fish was good and they gave a discount to seniors. It was a crowded lunch hour when we arrived. Ingeburg insisted on staying. We ordered our lunch and found the only places to sit were at a small table with two much older ladies. They freely offered us the empty places. We deduced they did not know each other. As soon as we started eating, Ingeburg said she had a question for me. “Don lives in the United States, you live in Germany, what about your sex life?” I couldn’t believe she would ask me this question. I tried to deflect it, but she asked it again. The two ladies did not look up from their meals after this and soon, separately, departed. On another occasion, Ingeburg confided specific details about her intimate life with Cornelius. It was not the usual conversation one would have in the United States, but she was sincere and I didn’t mind.
Shortly before Cornelius died, I visited him in the care center, where he had been moved because Ingeburg could no longer take care of him. I had seen him often leading up to this, but on this particular day he seemed quite distraught. As a young teenager he had lived at a military citadel in Erfurt. He and his fellow students manned anti-aircraft guns at night and went to school during the day. Cornelius took my hand and through tears said he was sorry he shot at Americans. He knew his life was coming to an end and this is what disturbed him most, his forced role in the war. It was tragic.
After Cornelius died I would often drive up to Wiesbaden to visit Ingeburg. We did many different activities together, however one particular outing stands out. I convinced her to go to the movies. She wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about the prospect, but she agreed to go. The movie I suggested we see was the silent film, The Artist. She gripped and squeezed my hand throughout the entire movie. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Afterwards she said the story reminded her of her life with Cornelius and it brought back sweet memories.
Ingeburg was an elegant woman. We dressed to go places. She had specific things that were appropriate to wear on certain occasions. Ultra casual was just not of interest to Ingeburg. Her apartment was small, but well appointed and reflected her taste. It was important to have the best available. She wasn’t interested in owning a lot of things, only in owning good things. She enjoyed a glass of wine, a fine meal, good conversation and seeing the sights. She cherished her friendships, especially her friend Isa, who she met through work. She had her quirks, but then don’t we all. Her passing is like the end of an era for me. I take heart in having known her and reflect the things that were important to her are also important to me. I too hope to have a life so well lived.
