Potato harvest
Becherbach, 1936. A local rite, the potato harvest.

Our nanny, Paula, lived next to the town hall, across the street from the store with the large sign "J. Moritz." Her father, Heinrich Urban, had a taxi service, with father being his best—if not only—customer for the frequent runs down to Kirn. Together with her brother Adolf, called "Adi," she took us to "help" with their potato harvest. At dusk, old man Urban made a fire with dried potato fonds and we roasted fresh potatoes in the embers—a delight.

Ernst, at age 5, was the entrepreneurial sort and had the run of the village. Everyone knew Isidorsch Ludwig's tow-headed red-cheeked boy and they made sure he was always safe while "helping," be it by leading some cows, or even a horse, to water, or simply helping by sitting on a plow; the only rule was that he was to be back home at noon sharp when the hands on the church clock both stood straight up.