KIT Vol XXVII No1 -Feb2015 HighRes 4-18MB

KIT The Keep In Touch NewsletterVolume XXVII No. 1 February 2015

The KIT Newsletter editorial staff welcomes all suggested contributions for publication in theNewsletter from subscribers and readers, but whether a given submission meets the criteria for

publication is at the sole discretion of the editors. While priority will be given to originalcontributions by people with past Bruderhof connections, any letters, articles or reports which

the editors deem to be of historical or personal interest or to offer new perspectives on issues ofparticular relevance to the ex-Bruderhof Newsletter readership, may be included as well. The

editors may suggest to the authors changes to improve their presentation.

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CONTENTS:Bruderhof Night-Watch Customs, by Elisabeth Bohlken Zumpe. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1Nachtwchterlied, as sung in the Bruderhof. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 419th Century English Translation of the Night-Watchmans Song. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5Bruderhof English Translation of the Night-Watchmans Song. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6Elisabeth Bohlken Zumpe comments. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

Remembering our dear ones who have passed from this life:Luke Believed, by Joel Baer.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7Remembering Anne Mercoucheff, by Elisabeth Bohlken Zumpe. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8Hugo Charles Lambach, by Ruth Lambach. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10Ulrich (Ullu) Keiderling, by Erika Keiderling Blair and Elisabeth Bohlken Zumpe. . . . . . . . . . 16

Announcements:Our Next Bulstrode Gathering, April 2015, by Andy Harries. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17Friendly Crossways Reunion, August 2015, by Al Hinkey, Maeve Whitty and Virginia Cuenca. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

KIT Accounts, by Raphael Vowles. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19Address Changes and Corrections. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19A Request from your Editor. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19Contact Details of Volunteers who Produce the KIT Newsletter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20Separate Flyer: Weekend Registration Form Friendly Crossways Reunion. . . . . . . . . . . 21

Bruderhof Night-Watch Customsor: Hrt, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen The Night-Watchmans Songby Elisabeth Bohlken ZumpeIn Primavera, the evening Brotherhood meetings used to go until 10:00pm, by which time theBrother on duty at the sawmill with its power-producing steam engine made our lightbulbs winkthree times, which meant: Everybody go home and to bed, as the lights would be turned off at halfpast ten. The hospital had its own power generator.

KIT The Keep In Touch Newsletter Volume XXVII No.1 February 2015

By ten oclock, the night-watchman could be heard outside the dining hall, where eveningBrotherhood meetings were held, singing the ten oclock verse of the night-watchmans song:Hrt ihr Leut und lasst euch sagen, unsre Glock hat zehn geschlagen... which was the sign thatthe Brother in charge at the steam engine would very soon wink the lightbulbs, which in turn meantthat the meeting had to come to an end. This was important, as the meeting would otherwise go onendlessly, and everybody desperately needed their sleep.

The night-watchman watched over us all. It meant that if anyone needed assistance during thenight, he was there to help. This was especially important in times when tropical storms hit, andour heavy wooden window shutters needed to be lifted from the ground outside the houses andplaced into our wide open windows. We had no glass panes, the wind blew in at one window andout the other.

Most of the night-watchmen told us they loved the tropical nights, the sounds and perfumes.Moonlit nights could be so bright, he wouldnt have to carry a kerosene lamp. Whenever I wassick, the night-watchmans song was a real comfort. Some night-watchmen were better singers thanothers. I remember especially Karl Keiderling, Jan and Herman Fros and Leslie Barron aswonderful singers and their voices carried beautifully through the dark. I shared with many afeeling of awe and a profound sensation of safety.

During the Paraguayan Civil War in 1947, also known as the Barefoot Revolution, which lastedfrom March to August, the country was pretty lawless. Some Paraguayans did steal during thatperiod, driving away our cattle and horses during the night, helping themselves to bags of dirtylaundry waiting to be washed the next day, and worst of all, one night the potties in the toddlershouse were all gone a near catastrophe!

During such nights, we could hear the barefooted Paraguayans run down the sandy Eucalyptusroad from the Hof to the sawmill and power station. We children would wake each other up andlisten, but we knew that the grownups would let them be, as they had vowed nonresistance.

I do remember that once, in Isla Margarita, there was a break-in at the home of my uncle andaunt Hans-Hermann and Gertrud Arnold. The house sat at the edge of the Hof overlooking CampoDolores, near the Isla Margarita laundry. While the grownups were in a meeting and the childrenasleep, soft-footed burglars entered through the open windows. No child was harmed; they didnteven wake up. But almost everything around them was gone except for their beds and the childrenthemselves. In those Bruderhof days a family had very little to their name apart from cups andplates and a set of simple clothes for the next day.

That night Walter Braun had been the evening-watch. When he realized that burglars wereleaving the Arnold house he screamed and ran after them across the campo and through the bushesand trees of the berlege-Wldchen, [Contemplation woodlet], a small woodlet used toexclude strong-minded members. Poor Walter was so upset; he lost his pants on the way and hisdentures too, having salvaged only a pair of baby socks.

The incident raised many questions for the Brotherhood: Should the children be told whathappened, or would it frighten them? Ignoring the thieves, would this mean giving in to the sin ofburglary? Should Walter have followed them, because in doing so, he exposed us all to danger?

The Arnold family was not moved out of that house and the parents told not to make a big dealof it, as the children might get scared. I do know that my aunt Gertrud after that incident found itdifficult to sit through a meeting, fearing that her children could again be in danger. Theinstructions were to have faith and trust in our personal safety.

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The timb tree in the Loma Hoby school-wood and theMorning Circle

No one was ever harmed during our twenty years living in the jungle. As children we were notat all afraid but felt safe and thankful to have so much more than the Mennonites or Paraguayanswho lived nearby.

The night-watchman had the special privilege of frying himself mandioca [manioc], and thenight-watchmans egg, a special treat. He had to keep the fires going in the kitchen and at thehospital, and prepare breakfast for the cowhands, the Brothers who usually left very early at around3:30 or 4:00am to get on with their work with the cattle before it became too hot.

We did not personally have clocks or watches; it seems unbelievable today. A bell rang to wakeus up in the morning, for work and school, and to gather for mealtimes and meetings. We alwayscounted on the bell to tell us the time.

Once we reached the age of eleven or twelve we were allowed to join the adults to welcome theNew Year. This was terribly exciting! Naturally we had to go to bed first. At eleven oclock wewere awakened by the evening- or night-watchman. Our fathers and mothers, after a meetingduring which they had reviewed the year gone by and talked of their expectations for the NewYear, had by then already gathered under the big timb tree in the Loma Hoby school-wood whichwe used as the morning circle at the start of each school day. We hurried to join them there, wherethey greeted us, the big children, with smiles, as we joined them, often sitting on the ground at theirfeet, to sing one song after the other.

At something like half past eleven therewas silence. Only those who had a specialwish or message for the New Year spoke up.I remember Joan Britts who had onlyrecently lost her husband and was pregnantwith Philip, sitting in a deck-chair within thecircle of the benches. She spoke in a smallvoice, asking all to help her so her childrenwould not miss their daddy too painfully.

This was heart rending and made me cry.Then there was silence.

The moon lit up the campo, the sky wascovered in sparkling stars, there came thescent of jasmine and moon trumpet flowersand the night sounds of the jungle. Atmidnight we heard the voice of LeslieBarron mostly he, in Loma Hoby singingloud and clear, Hrt, ihr Leut, und lassteuch sagen, unsre Glock hat zwlfgeschlagen, zwlf, das ist das Ziel der Zeit,Mensch, bedenk der Ewigkeit.

Then everyone stood up to join Leslie insinging the refrain: Menschenwachen kannnichts ntzen, Gott muss wachen, Gott mussschtzen. Herr, durch deine Gt und Macht,gib uns eine gute Nacht!

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Moon Trumpet Flowers

Shivers ran down my spine. I was in completeawe of being part of such surroundings something I will never forget.

After that there was a free exchange betweeneverybody, with a little wine in an enamel cup toshare with your family, and sometimes we evenhad something like dumplings to go with thewine.

We did have a primitive but very specialchildhood, and my memories of those days arepeaceful and happy ones.

Nachtwchterlied

Hrt, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen:unsere Glock hat Zehn geschlagen!Zehn Gebote setzt Gott ein;gib, dass wir gehorsam sein.

Refrain. Menschenwachen kann nichts ntzen, Gott muss wachen, Gott muss schtzen.Herr, durch deine Gt und Machtgib uns eine gute Nacht!

Hrt, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen:unsere Glock hat Elf geschlagen!Elf der Jnger blieben treu;gib, dass wir im Tod ohn Reu!

Refrain.

Hrt, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen:unsere Glock hat Zwlf geschlagen!Zwlf, das ist das Ziel der Zeit!Mensch, bedenk der Ewigkeit!

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Refrain.

Hrt, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen:unsere Glock hat Eins geschlagen!Eins ist allein der ewge Gottder uns trgt durch alle Not.

Refrain.

Hrt, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen:unsere Glock hat Zwei geschlagen!Zwei Wege hat der Mensch vor sich,Herr, den rechten fhre mich!

Refrain.

Hrt, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen:unsere Glock hat Drei geschlagen!

Drei ist Eins, was gttlich heit:Vater, Sohn und Heilger Geist.

Refrain.

Hrt, ihr Leut, und lasst euch sagen:unsere Glock hat Vier geschlagen!Vierfach ist das Ackerfeld;Mensch, wie ist dein Herz bestellt?

Refrain: Alle Sternlein mssen schwindenund der Tag wird sich einfinden.Dank dem Herrn, der uns die Nachthat so vterlich bewacht!

+ + +

[Ed. Note: The following English 19th Century translation covers verses Eight to Four.]Translation of the Night-Watchmans Song, found at

http://www.bartleby.com/270/8/212.htmlHenry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.

Germany: Vols. XVII-XVIII. 1876-79Miscellaneous: The Night-Watchmans Song, from the German

Anonymous Translation

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of Eight, good Sirs, has struck.Eight souls alone from death were kept,When God the earth with deluge swept:Refrain:Unless the Lord to guard us deign,Man wakes and watches all in vain. Lord, through thine all-prevailing might,Do though vouchsafe us a good night!

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of Nine, good Sirs, has struck.Nine lepers cleansed, returned not; Be not thy blessings, man, forgot!Refrain.

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of Ten, good Sirs, has struck.

Ten precepts show Gods holy will; O, may we prove obedient still!Refrain.

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of Eleven, good Sirs, has struck.Eleven apostles remained true; May we be like that faithful few!Refrain.

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of Twelve, good Sirs, has struck.Twelve is of Time the boundary; Man, think upon Eternity!Refrain.

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of One, good Sirs, has struck.

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One God alone reigns over all; Naught can without His will befall.Refrain.

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of Two, good Sirs, has struck.Two ways to walk has man been given:Teach me the right. the path to heaven!Refrain.

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of Three, good Sirs, has struck.Three Gods in One, exalted most,The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Refrain.

Hark while I sing! Our village clockthe hour of Four, good Sirs, has struck.Four seasons crown the farmers care; --Thy heart with equal toil prepare!Refrain:Up, up! Awake, nor slumber on!The morn approaches, night is gone!Thank God who by His power andmightHas watched and kept us through thisnight!

+ + +

And here, kindly made available by Melchior Fros, is todaysBruderhof translation from the German:

Hear, good folk! The hour Im singing:Ten oclock the bell is ringing.Ten Commands are Gods decree;grant, that we obedient be.Refrain: Though men watch, it nought availeth;God must watch, His arm prevaileth;Lord, by Thy most gracious might,grant us all a peaceful night!

Hear, good folk! Now dark is heaven,for the clock has struck Eleven.Christs eleven true remained.Keep us constant till the end!Refrain.

Hear, good folk! Hear from the tower,Twelve oclock is now the hour.Time will end, and man must bemindful of Eternity!Refrain.

Hear, good folk! Now hear our singing:One oclock the bell is ringing.God is one eternally,

bears all need and makes us free.Refrain.

Hear, good folk! The hour Im singing,Two oclock the bell is ringing.Two the ways that man can use.Teach us, Lord, Thy way to choose.Refrain.

Hear, good folk! The hour Im singing:Three oclock the bell is ringing.Deity is Three in One:Father, Holy Spirit, Son.Refrain.

Hear, good folk! The hour Im singing:Four oclock the bell is ringing.Foursquare is the farmers field.Man, has thine own heart been tilled?

Refrain:Stars must fade when light is dawning.Dawn will bring another morning.Lord, we thank Thee that this nightThou has kept us in Thy sight!

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Elisabeth Bohlken Zumpe comments:In the Bruderhof, the night-watchman started to sing verse Ten and ended with verse Four atdaybreak. Further verses were not sung in the Bruderhof. Very often, the Brotherhood orGemeindestunde circle would sing verse Ten together with the night-watchman before dispersingeach to their own home.

As usual, the Bruderhof changed the words of the song a little to fit their own feelings of thetime, but mostly they continue the same as in the German tradition of old.

For me personally, starting the song with verse Ten seems to bring back the sounds of thetropical nights and that solitary mans voice telling us he is watching over us.

Verse Four was sung to confirm that once again God had safeguarded us during the night. Itsclosing Refrain has particularly pleasant memories for me, as very often, our cowhands ChristophStffli Mathis, Peter and Roland Keiderling, Johnny Robinson, Wilhelm Fischer and LeslieBarron sang along with the night-watchman before they rode off at dawn for their work with thecattle on the campo.

Luke Believedby Joel BaerLuke believed in me. From 1960 thru 1965, Luke was more my father than my brother. You see,Allan Baer, our father Papa as we called him was just excommunicated from his last cult, acommune. Papas final attempt at living in a religious utopia was finally drained from his bones.Our family Papa, Mama, thirteen children and one on the way landed in Lake Park, Minnesota,absolutely penniless. For the first half of what I call our familys poverty decade, 1960 thru 1970,Papa was an absentee father. I didnt know Papa. How could it be any other way? Papa was muchtoo proud to accept any form of welfare. He worked sunup to sundown and then moonlighted, justto survive those first years. Papa was always gone. In those early years, I was raised by my brothersand sisters, and none more influential or important to me than Luke. Luke believed in me.

In 1960, Luke was ten years old, I was four. Luke taught me how to drive a tractor, an A JohnDeere. The A was an eighteen horsepower, narrow front workhorse with all the safety features fromthe thirties and forties coming as standard equipment. In 1960, the A was a good sized farm tractor;today its a mid-size lawn mower. I remember sitting proudly on Lukes lap, on the cast iron seat,with my hands on the steering wheel while Luke did the actual driving. Luke believed in me.

Luke taught me how to milk a cow, by hand, for those of you who think milk comes from acarton, off the grocers shelf.

Make sure you milk the cow from the south end, when shes looking north, Luke said. Thebasics. Luke had a knack of making a stubborn cow give up her milk. He would set down the three-legged stool, place the bucket in position below the udder, and nudge the cow. And when I say,nudge the cow, I mean Luke pretended he was a calf. With his head, Luke would but the cow,massaging the area between the stomach and back leg. Even the most stubborn heifer will give upher milk with that stimulation.

The cats in the barn also waited for Luke to set down that three-legged stool, he was the mostgenerous. The other boys, Mark, Zenas, Amon, Amos, they just wanted to get the milking done.Luke made sure the cats were fed. They would sit at the south end of his cow and meow, purr, and

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beg at Luke. Every fifth pull of the teat was directed not into the bucket but directly into the catsmouths. Luke was accurate, he practiced on me. Luke believed in me.

Luke taught me how to shear a sheep. He taught me the subtle difference between a ewe and awether. Everyone, Luke said, could tell the difference between a buck and ewe: the big sackhanging between the back legs. How many of you could tell the difference between a wether andewe just by looking at them? When shearing sheep, you have to know. If you are the ewe, it reallydoesnt matter, but if you are the wether, the difference is anything but subtle. Luke took the timeto teach me the difference. Luke believed in me.

When Luke was a twenty-year-old living in Madison, putting in his two years CO service, I asa fourteen-year-old got to spend a day with him. What a privilege and honor. How many twenty-year-olds would spend time with a fourteen-year-old hick from the sticks? Luke did. We went toa nearby park to play catch with a football. Three pretty girls sunbathing on a blanket caught hiseye. With every throw of the ball he made sure we were inching closer and closer and closer to thegirls. I dont believe he got any phone numbers from them, but he taught me not to be afraid. Lukebelieved in me.

As a twentyfive-year-old I was just starting my own family, very unsure of my steps, insecurein my position in life and our large family, and struggling to find my own identity. With five simplewords Luke changed all that.

Luke said, Joel, you really impress me. Those five words coming from Luke, well, they turned my life around. Luke, with those five

words you gave me the confidence to know that I was headed in the proper direction, that I wasgoing to be OK. Luke believed in me.

I could fill pages with stories of how Luke helped me, how Luke believed in me; how Luketaught me to be frugal, to save, and then to invest. Luke taught me how to give, and then how tobe generous. Luke taught me that every position in life is noble as long as you take pride in it. Luketaught me all of this by his actions more so than his orations.

Luke, you will never know the profound effect you have had on my life, and for that I say,Thank You.

Luke, you are now not leaving me; you are leading me. Luke, I believe in you.Joel

Remembering Anne Mercoucheffby Elisabeth Bohlken ZumpeI just received a message from one of Anne and Constantin Mercoucheffs daughters that hermother, Anne, passed away on Monday, December 15th, 2014.

Anne was born on the 10th of February, 1927 in a village close to the Rhn-Bruderhof inGermany. As a baby just a few weeks old, Anne came to stay in the Bruderhof with her mother,Kathrin Ebner, and she later travelled the globe with the Community. Anne grew up in thechildrens house and school and spent most of her time with the Boller girls, Ursel and Lisbeth,who were slightly older.

She married Constantin Mercoucheff in Primavera in 1951, and they had six lovely children:Nadia, Sergei, Inez, Teresa, Ivan and Tatiana. Annes children, who left the Bruderhof and live indifferent places around the world, were not informed of their mothers death. As usual, this is acause of additional pain and heartache for those left behind who feel abandoned. As long as the

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Bruderhof keeps up these hard-hearted ways it is impossible to have family relationships betweenthose living in the outside world and those inside the Bruderhof.

I remember Anne from my earliest childhood and later as a happy person singing away in thekitchen or wherever she worked. She had a sweet soprano voice. Whenever a baby was born tosome family, at quite a young age she often had to take charge of that family and its many children,as there were only few girls in her age-group able to do so. She cared for the Zumpe children everytime there was a change in those available for that task, and we loved her. She seemed so muchnearer our own age, especially that of my sister Heidi. She usually did the early morning kitchenduty. I remember her well from that time. She had an open, happy-looking face and wore her hair,not like most of us in two braids, but in one large braid at the back of her head which reached downto her waist.

Constantin and his brother Georg Schorsch were Russian refugees who arrived by trainin Paris after having fled from horrible pogroms and persecutions of the Jews in eastern Europe.I believe they came from Poland at the time, but they only spoke Russian. They had nowhere to go.I dont think they were blood brothers, but they had come from the same location, because, oncegone from the Bruderhof, George called himself Vorondez, and not Mercoucheff. The SalvationArmy asked the Bruderhof to help placing the refugee children arriving in France during the 1930's.In 1936, my uncle Balz Trmpi was sent to bring one child home to the Bruderhof. Little Georgewas hanging onto Constantine, crying and afraid to let go, so Balz brought both boys toLiechtenstein.

In 1961, Anne and her six children were taken from Primavera to Woodcrest, but whenConstantin wanted to load his suitcase onto the airplane at the Asuncion airport, to join his family,he was told that he had not been chosen for the New Community at Woodcrest! This shockedhim deeply, and the pain of this very last-minute decision never left him, nor was he ever ableaccept this. He suffered badly. It was Michel Gneiting who managed to get him a dentistsemployment at the new hospital in Carmen, Paraguay, together with Dr. Cyril and Margot Davies,who were able to work there as well. Several ex-Bruderhofers Roger Allain , Dr. Cyril Daviesand Migg Fischli made it a point to visit Constantin, or write on his behalf to Woodcrest askingfor consideration and love towards him because he was heartbroken. Their last baby girl was onlysix months old when she left for the United States. He never saw her again.

From their earliest ages, both Anne and Constantin were Bruderhof-raised children, living firstin the Rhn, Germany, then in Liechtenstein, from there to England in the Cotswolds and lastly,to Primavera. We grew up with them. I remember when they were baptized, their wedding, and thebirth of their first baby, Nadia.

I met Constantin in 1992 in Ming Guaz, Paraguay when he was dying of cancer. He criedbitter tears about his lost family. It makes me so sad that neither he nor Anne were ever given thechance for reconciliation and peace! As it happens, my niece Else (my sister Heidis daughter) ismarried to Sergei Mercoucheff, so on our visit I was able to give Constantin a few photos of hisfamily.

These messages upset me a lot when they reach me! What is the use of the Bruderhof publishingwonderful books on education, faith, family, marriage and children, when the reality turns out tobe so loveless not even passing on the message of a mothers death and this just beforeChristmas! What kind of a Christmas message is this?

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Hugo Charles Lambachby Ruth Baer LambachHugo Charles Lambach III was born on January 25, 1925, and died on November 5, 2014.He was raised in Spokane and Seattle WA, but left his heart in the Pacific Northwest. He waseducated, lived, worked and pursued his hobbies in Chicago overlooking Lake Michigan. Hugograduated from Northwestern University in musicology; he was a pianist, photographer,videographer, ice dancer, ham radio operator, hypnotist, rack jobber, merchandiser, investor anda 19th Century gentleman.

He leaves behind an ex-wife, Waneta (Wilcox) Reynolds, in Florida, and his wife of forty years,Ruth Baer Lambach, in Evanston.

The above information was printed in the Chicago Tribune of November 9, 2014 along with apicture of Hugo. So who was Hugo and how did an ex-Mennonite, Hutterite, Bruderhof youngwoman, Ruth Baer get mixed up with this agnostic, seventeen-years older gentleman from a vastlydifferent culture?

Hugo and I met through bicycling, specifically during American Youth Hosteling bicycle ridesorganized by my former husband Gerhardt Steinke and me, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Hundredsof cyclists came to these rides. Some of the rides were one-day rides of 100 kilometers, others morestrenuous, of 200 or 300 miles in a twenty-four hour period.

Hugo did his first ride from Chicago to Waukesha, WI ona Saturday in the spring of 1970. He paid his one dollarentry fee and was registered by me, with my baby boy Karlon my back. Later in the day, word came of a rider who hadbroken spokes and was stuck on the local road. The sagwagon was nowhere in sight. I immediately sensed that thismust be the man I had noticed that morning putting togetherhis bicycle from the trunk of his Mustang. I had seen himout of the corner of my eye, and what had struck me was themusic in his movements. He was athletic and rhythmic in hisactions and I noted the singularity of his presence in contrastto the rest of the riders. He wore a French beret to cover uphis bald spot. Since the sag wagon was not available, I wentto pick him up. He was gracious, smiling and unconcernedabout the fact that hed been waiting for the sag wagon fora couple of hours. He had occupied himself by engagingwith the people picking wild asparagus in the ditches. Idrove him back and returned his dollar.

Hugo left for Chicago only to return the next day to dothe ride again. This time he completed the ride and got hispatch.

I was intrigued with this gentleman. Shortly afterwardswe met at a skating event, and I learned that he was an icedancer. We skated around the ice rink. Hugo held me securely with a gloved hand while glidingme around the rink. I was transported into a world Id never been in before: A gentleman waspaying attention to me and treating me like a lady. I felt as though something had gotten under myskin. It was magical.

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An October sunrise Ruths favourite photograph, taken byHugo, of his place on the lake

Soon I found out he was a photographer. He photographed nature. He photographed nudes innature. He made me look good. When he came to visit, he brought along a thermos of hot coffeeand a couple of mugs. He made paella, it was still warm as we ate it in a park. As we drove alonghe played tapes of Chopin, Bach and Scarlatti, and talked about the music he knew and loved. Itwas exhilarating. I got personal attention and he treated me with respect and love.

Soon there were regular telephone calls and clandestine visits. Hugo met Gerhardt who initiallyliked him but when he found out that there was a deeper, already ongoing intimate relationship, heturned bitter. There was a divorce, and I felt responsible. In any event, I moved to Chicago andmarried Hugo.

Hugos father was what one would call a robber baron in some circles and his mother a flapper.His birth had been announced in the Society pages of the Seattle Times in 1925. Hugo's fathermade his money before there was income tax. When Hugo II walked around either Spokane orSeattle, people saluted him as one of the city leaders with deep pockets. He was successful as adental surgeon, an owner of mines, owner of a local theater and investor in the stock market.Having built one great mansion for his first wife, he built a second one for his second wife too, thistime in a gated community, Broadmoor, on the edge of a golf course. Still today, one has to havean appointment to get past the gateman to visit anyone in this sequestered community.

Hugo III got his first set of custom-made golf clubs at the age of four. It was private school allthe way. He was tutored on how to live the life of a gentleman. He knew what it meant to be agentlemans gentleman. As a child he perceived his German last name, Lambach, as being inferiorto the British aristocracy the family aspired to. English influence was prevalent in the PacificNorthwest, so close to Vancouver, Canada.

Coming to Chicago to attend Northwestern University, his fathers alma mater, was a letdownfor Hugo, who in all of his years there neverforgot his origins in the Pacific Northwest with itsmountains, pine trees, clear freshwater streams tofish in and the ocean. He remembered hisenchanted early life with great love and affectionand never bought a house in the Midwest butremained in the same hovel on the lakefrontbecause it was a unique place on the northernmostedge of Chicago with a thirty-foot long deck onthe third floor extending out over Lake Michigan.He didnt have to mow the lawn. The sun andmoon rose in the east casting a long-lit reflectionon the water. This unobstructed view of sky, lakeand shore as well as the distant horizon wasvisible from every room in the apartment. He hadwhat I have described elsewhere as a womb witha view. And he never left it willingly, just as hehad not willingly moved into this small apartmentcarved out of a larger more elegant three story flatwhich had once been occupied by the actress JoanCrawford. Al Capone, according to some stories,came to the deck to relax. Hugo, having told his

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first wife that if he moved there he would stay there forever, stayed there for fifty-seven years.In September of 2013, I managed to pack up, give away, sell or haul off to storage or the

Salvation Army all the salvageable remains of his years of hobbies: Tools, wires, enlargers,inoperable heaps of tin, wood and other usable parts for photography, ham radio operation, largesquare enamel pans for developing pictures in the oversized tub where two adults could sit end toend and take long soaking baths while sipping and setting their drinks on the edge of the tub amidloving gestures and small talk all of which he had to let go.

The master bathroom was in his part of the original flat. As he sat on his bed in the front, hecould hear the destruction of that tub in which Joan Crawford had bathed. He remarked about it butdid not dare come and see what the bathroom looked like, stripped to its rafters. The tub was toolarge to take out of the apartment, so they cut it up and took it out piece by piece. To hide this fromHugos view, I hung a red flannel bed sheet over the door.

The water was turned off during the last month that Hugo still occupied his slum on the lake,as he referred to it. During that time, I cooked, washed dishes and used the bathroom in my thirdof the former three-story flat with an entrance just inches from Hugos door. Hugo did not movefrom his bed unless he had to go to the bathroom. Surely he must have known something was goingon. Nothing registered though and he continued to live in denial of anything other than his regularmeals and distractions he managed to indulge in by reading books I brought from the library biographies of Queen Elizabeth, Elizabeth Taylor, Glenn Gould, Bach, Chopin as well as bookshe hung onto from his past. Among the books he reread during this time were The Tropic of Cancerby Henry Miller, and Bing Crosby: A Pocketful of Dreams The Early Years 1903-1940, by GaryGiddons. He felt especially connected to Bing Crosby. The story is that Hugos grandmother andBing Crosbys mother talked to each other over their backyard fence in Spokane. Another authorHugo read repeatedly was Nabokov, and his copy of Lolita was well worn.

As I left for the new apartment with a loaded truck, I advised the movers to let Hugo sit out onthe deck and return to get him after the truck was unloaded. Evidently, by the time the movers left,one man, not wanting to abandon this old man, brought him downstairs and moved him over to thenew place. Hugo, by this time on crutches, was able to get out of the car and get up to the new placevia the elevator.

Hugo had often told me the story of Sewell Avery, CEO of Montgomery Ward, who had to becarried out of his office in his chair by Federal troops in 1944 because of his refusal to go alongwith FDRs demand that he comply with the newly created Federal Labor Relations Board.Sewells favorite insult was to call someone a New Dealer. Hugo remained a staunch Republicancapitalist and entrepreneur all his life. He respected his father who disliked the overarchingauthority of the government. The way the move was made, Hugo enjoyed the satisfaction of havingstuck to his guns by refusing to be moved from the apartment into which his first wife had movedhim against his will.

It took several months to get Hugo used to living near the lake rather than directly on it. Beforehe died though, he got used to calling the new place his home in which he particularly enjoyedseeing the Oriental rug, from his one and only real home in Seattle, now fully extended in the newliving room.

The deep pain, hole or twisted wrinkle in Hugo was that he never found a suitable professionthroughout his life. He deeply loved, feared and respected his father, Hugo II. Since he was nineyears old he had wanted to become a doctor because his father was a dental surgeon. Having nosiblings, Hugo was attached to both of his parents who provided him with everything he neededand did not need. His mother regularly referred to him as Your Royal Highness. She referred to

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her husband Hugo II as Doctor. One can only surmise at what kind of power this only childwielded in his home, with a maid, a butler and lots of employees who came around repairing thehouse and taking care of the lawn. Hugos father had a place of honor at all family events and hisword was law. Hugo expected the same for himself when he grew up. His father lorded it over themaids by having a button on the floor under the dining room table with which to call them whenhe needed his coffee piping hot. One day the maid took out a ruler to make sure she got thehamburger just the right size. Hugo was trained to wait until the maid came around to serve himfrom the left. One of his pet peeves was to have to eat where it was self-service, and there was noritual around such things as carving the bird at Thanksgiving or Christmas.

It is sad to think about a human being who could not hear birds sing. And yet, this was the casewith Hugo who was a forceps birth and was partially paralyzed for the first week of his life. Thehearing damage might have happened this early. Or it might have happened when he had a seriousinfection and was placed under an ultraviolet lamp with goggles over his eyes which he flicked offand stared directly into the light causing his retina to be burned. Corneal ulcers were with him forthe rest of his life. He remembered having to walk around with bandages over his eyes for a year,seeing only slivers of light by looking out from under the bandages at the corners.

These early accidents profoundly affected his life. Due to his hearing and eyesight impairment,Hugo would curiously cock his head and appear as though he was totally engrossed in listening tothe other person when in fact he was working very hard to see and hear the other person.Nonetheless, these handicaps gave him a great bedside manner and I know he could have had agreat profession in psychiatry had he not been discouraged by the knowledge that psychiatry, bythe time he graduated in 1946, had become a profession less concerned with talking, listening,creating rapport with or establishing trust and intimacy, than with drugs. One prescription couldsave hours and years of talk.

Among the books I discarded from the back room were the endless heavy books on psychiatry.Hugo was a voracious reader. One summer he read through all twelve volumes of Marcel Prousts,Remembrance of Things Past. Another set of twelve volumes, the Richard Burton translation ofThe Book of the Thousand Knights and a Night, along with six supplemental Knights with notes,never got completely read, but Hugo had read enough to be firmly set in his ideas and attitudetoward the fickle nature of women.

Hugo did not harbor any guilt feelings about not working his way through college because hedalways been accustomed to having things provided for him. But his grand, generous-spirited fatherdied in 1948 before Hugo had even gotten his life together at the age of twenty-three. Hugo andhis mother limped along with the rest of the money from the family estate in an apartment inChicago until she died in 1965. Thats when Hugo, adrift and all alone, felt the need to go out andfind work. His mother had lived according to the lifestyle she was accustomed to, except she didnthave any maids. She did have enough money to buy her son a new car, an Oldsmobile 95 withelectric windows.

By 1974, when Hugo and I were married, Hugo was serious about settling down and making aliving. Through a friend he met in their common involvement with Ham Radio, he was offered theSouthside, the Westside of Chicago, and Gary, Indiana as territory in which to set up accounts tosell pantyhose to African Americans. These stores were in neighborhoods most white men wouldn'tbe seen in. I went out with Hugo on his first run in his 1968 VW bug. He made ten dollars on hisfirst call and after the first week decided that this rack jobbing/hosiery business might be enoughto make a living. Hugo was on the run after that, and stuck with this business for the next twenty-some years. He was free in that he could make his own time provided he got to the accounts early

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Hugo Charles Lambach in June 2014 at Moody's Pub onBroadway, an outdoor restaurant where you get the best

hamburgers in Chicago

enough in the day to avoid going into the small shops when gang-bangers were hanging about theentryways. In spite of this precaution he had his Rolex ripped off his arm, a pistol put to his head,his car broken into and merchandise stolen, but he persisted. He used his charm and consistencyto service the accounts and responded to the calls for The Stockin Man, as he was known. Rain,blizzard or heat, Hugo picked up his courage, packed up his trunk and went on his daily runs.

Being The Stockin Man freed Hugo once again to pursue his childhood passion for icedancing. He joined several clubs and thus was able to be with the class of people he expected tobe with when he was a child. Over the years, Hugo became known as someone interested in helpingto develop the skills of new skaters. He gave of his talents in photography by videotaping skatersof all ages, and providing them with immediate feedback to their skating. He participated inNational Skating Competitions and got so well known that he was given a badge and could stand

in the restricted spaces to take closeup pictures. He wason familiar terms with judges; they respected hisopinions, as did the families whose skaters he helped.

His knowledge of music also came in as a valuableasset as he had a feeling for the kind of music mostappropriate for particular dances. Hugo was a totallyfocused ice dancer who organized his life around thehosiery business, ice dancing and, beginning in themid-eighties, financial investments. Because of hislimited hearing and his lack of a respectable solidprofession, his need to focus and be a success in these areas was important for his ego.

Hugos body was donated to the school that advisedhim not to pursue medicine as a career even after hehad studied medicine at graduate level and participatedin medical lab classes in order to become a doctor. Hislack of hearing was given as a reason. Perhaps despiteof this blocking, Hugo kept up with the latestdevelopments in medicine for the rest of his life. Hekept his medical library card and borrowed books fromthe library, especially when he was going throughcomplicated procedures such as having a heart valvereplacement, a hip replacement or the loss of two toes

due to diabetes. He kept his old anatomy books as well as huge volumes listing drugs and their sideeffects. He read up on each of his procedures and was well aware of the side effects of drugs. Whenhe talked to a doctor, he was not satisfied until he had convinced the doctor of his expertise andspecific knowledge and could converse with him in the obfuscating language of medicine heavilyloaded with Latin, which Hugo had studied in his private schools.

Hugo even called himself Dr. Hugo Lambach by taking over his fathers phone number. Thislie kept alive the illusion that he really had made it and lived up to the potential he envisioned forhimself. Moving to the new apartment a year ago, he had to let go of his Dr. from the telephone,from the address, bank accounts, car insurance and from many of the magazines and other printedinformation that arrived at the house. But he still clung to the moniker even as late as two monthsbefore he died. At the Skilled Nursing Center, the CNAs got his attention by calling him Dr. Hugo.

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In sum, he was a hard working perfectionist in whatever he undertook, and he did not sufferfools very well. I still wonder how he tolerated me, but I realize that he could not readily classifyme. In much the same way that Hugo did not show up on the radar screen for my own selectionprocess in choosing a man, Hugo could not really understand where I belonged. As two strangers,we thus gave each other a great deal of freedom.

Over the last year of Hugos life he was in and out of hospital numerous times and spent timein nursing homes, and had a series of nurses and other professionals coming to the house. It wasa rough last year as he shed the lies and denials for the agony of knowing that his body and mindwere weakening, and that he was almost totally dependent on others. The daily rituals bound Hugoand me together, and the suffering and endurance of the terminal stages of Hugos life enabled usboth to be affectionate, kind, patient and compassionate in the face of frustration, resentment andanger at a steadily deteriorating body.

I stayed with Hugo during the last night of his life. The next day I witnessed the release of hissoul from his body. Several times I got up to check on him when I heard noises, coughing orstirring. Hugo had not been in any pain. He breathed quietly all night, and while he no longertalked, he responded to my touch as I stroked his forehead and arms. At one point he pursed his lipsand returned a kiss Id planted on his forehead.

At noon the next day I was sitting at the window, some ten feet from his bed, when I heardshuffling and stirring and then an audible sigh of relief. I looked over and what I became aware ofwas a large, irregular, clear liquid loose shape about the size of a grown mans torso, hanging fora split second just above his head. It hovered, then vanished into thin air. Immediately, Hugos faceturned sallow, as the life force drained from his body.

Hugo was gone.At that moment, Karl called from Switzerland. The first words Karl heard were an astonished,

Hugo is dyi... He is dead.

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10th May 1958: At the registrars office in Bridgnorth, England. L-R:Ellen und Ullu Keiderling, Heidi (Zumpe) and Klaus Barth, Marianne

(Freiburghaus) and Ben Zumpe.

The wedding procession through the Wheathill Bruderhof.L-R: Audry-Anne Jefferies and Gabriele von Borries, Janet and David

Mason, Christine Rimes and Kilian Zumpe, Elske Fros and MariliFriedemann.

The newly-weds at Wheathill:L-R Heidi and Klaus, Marianne and Ben,

and Ellen and Ullu.

Ulrich (Ullu) Keiderlingby Erika Keiderling Blair and Elisabeth Bohlken ZumpeErika writes: On Wednesday, November 12th, 2014, JoeKeiderling called Erika to tell her that herbrother Ulrich known as Ullu passedaway on Sunday, November 9th, and that hisfuneral had already taken place on thefollowing Monday. Joe asked Erika for BenKeiderlings phone number, which she gavehim. Joe then called Ben to pass on the sadnews.Elisabeth remembers: Ullu arrived at the Wheathill Bruderhof inthe autumn of 1957. The farm was in need ofstrong men, and Ullu was good at practically

everything he was asked to do. I recall acold, windy day in autumn, very foggy,chilly and uncomfortable. It was lunchtime.Ellen and I were crossing the Hof when Ulluturned up, barefoot, the clay squeezing upbetween his bare toes. I said, quite startled:But Ullu, here, we have to wear shoes! Youwill catch a very bad cold like this!

Ullu smiled somewhat forlornly andreplied: You know, Bette, my feet havenever been acquainted with shoes. I simplycant get them inside any!

Ellen half died laughing, she had not seenor heard anything like it before. Being the

only daughter of a well-known Jewishsurgeon in New York City, she hadwanted for nothing financially.

She admired big and strong Ullu,and maybe this encounter Ulluwalking barefoot in the cold clay was the early beginnings of a greatromance. Ullu loved and adored hisEllen and Ellen admired and loved herphysically so big and strong Ullu. Shefelt safe with him.

The big wedding was on 14th May,

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The wedding procession: L-R Ellen and Ullu, Marianne and Ben, and Heidi and Klaus. 2nd little

girl from the left: Erika Keiderling

Bulstrode Manor

1958. I had just returned home from mytraining and took the above photographswith my small Kodak camera.

To see big Ullu during Brotherhoodmeetings knitting very tiny blue woollenbaby socks, and even one of the so-calledSwiss baby jackets, was simply adorable.

Ullu and Ellen were quite lovely togetherand despite all the Bruderhof crises, they hada good marriage, a good family, and alwayshelped each other along mutually.

Our Next Bulstrode Gathering Date: Saturday, April 25th, 2015by Andy HarriesTo all ex-Bruderhofers and friends:I have been able to once again book the room at Bulstrode Manor which we had last year and

a few times before. It is available from 11:00am to 5:00pm.WEC International have kindly allowed us

the use of the dining room at the back, withaccess to hot water so we can prepare our owndrinks. We will bring the basics: milk, sugar,tea, coffee and juice. We recommend bringingsome food along, which we usually share. Aswe did last time, we can sit outside on theveranda with free access to the lovelyBulstrode Park and grounds. No smokingindoors, please, no alcohol, and do not leavelitter anywhere.

We will have a collection for a voluntarycontribution for WEC, as a thank you for theirkindness of allowing us once again the use oftheir room and grounds.

They have asked me to put out a sheet of paper at reception for everybody to sign on arrival.This is a legal requirement, in case of fire. If you enter through the main front door, reception willbe on the right. Before that, also on the right, are the toilets.

Please pass this information on to anybody who might not hear or read about it.

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RE: 2015 Friendly Crossways ReunionWhere? Friendly Crossways Retreat Center Harvard, MA (Boston)When? Friday, August 21 early afternoon through Sunday afternoon, August 23Who? Former Bruderhofers with their friends & family any age/ideology

We are happy to announce the upcoming ex-Bruderhof get-together at Friendly Crossways outside ofBoston. We are hoping as many of you as possible can come: young; old; single; with or without familymembers. There will be time to share our lives, both past and present, as well as cook, eat, hike, sing andplay together.

We need a commitment ASAP from those of you who are definitely coming. A $80 (USD) depositfrom at least 20 people by mid-February will hold our exclusive reservation

at the Friendly Crossways Hostel for August 21-23. Remaining reservation deposits are due byMay 30, 2015. US residents please make checks payable to Allen Hinkey and mail your checkand registration form to: 1901 John F. Kennedy Blvd Apt. 923, Philadelphia, PA 19103

In the UK, please contact Raphael Vowles at [email protected]

For those who are able and so inclined, extra donations are much appreciated and needed forfolks requiring financial assistance to attend the reunion.

No one wishing to attend should feel excluded because Reunion costs exceed his or her budget.

The location is a rambling farmhouse, with access to swimming, canoeing, volleyball/soccer and hiking.The Atlantic Ocean beaches are an hour's drive away, as are the Green and White Mountains of Vermontand New Hampshire. Historic Concord, home of the American Revolution, as well as the city of Bostonare close by.

Friendly Crossways is a 45-minute drive from Logan Airport in Boston and accessible by subway andlocal trains as well. For taxi or rental car transportation information please contact Maeve.

Weekend registration forms are included herewith. Please email Alto request Single-day registration forms (no overnight stay); more detailswill also be posted on facebook later this year. Anyone wishing to arrive sooner or stay longer, ask Maeve; to enquire about other activities in the area, click this hyperlink: http://friendlycrossways.com/about-us/things-to-do/

Your organizers: Maeve Whitty [email protected] Hinkey - [email protected]

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Address changes & corrections:

Hannah (Goodwin) Johnson7622 Cheyenne Street, Apt CSwissvale, PA 15218, USA412 466 0332

Vince Lagano290 Beachview Ave., Apt. 38Pacifica, CA 94044, USA

Hector (Duffy) Black: email address: [email protected]

Susan Suleski: new email address:[email protected] has moved to temporary rentedaccommodation. Her old address is nolonger valid.

Address correction:Friedemann Stephan & Karola neeKlver:Lauenburger Strasse 7021502 GeesthachtGERMANY

KIT Accounts Year End FY 2014-15by Raphael Vowles

The last year saw the issue of 4 KIT Newsletters with increased uptake of emailsubscriptions.

Of the 200+ subscribers, 54 contributions were gratefully received.Your regular contributions support the Newsletter.

1,643.15 GBP Opening Balance 2014-151,039.73 GBP Contributions (54)

7.84 GBP Contribution Pic CD (1)9.30 GBP Contribution Sendbrief (2)0.30 GBP Bank Interest (11)

cr 1,401.20 GBP Production Costs Incl p&p (15)cr 54.58 GBP Other charges/Adjustments

Total 1,244.54 GBP Carried forward

A Request from your Editor:

Dear Readers KIT needs your submissions in whatever form you wish to present them:Photographs, drawings, paintings, poetry all are welcome.

So pick up your pen, sit at your old typewriter, go switch on your computer or tablet or iPodand write, write, write then watch your tale, your story, short or long emerge on paper or onthe screen. Send it off see where to send under Contact Us and make this more YOURKeep-In-Touch Newsletter!

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Contact Us The Volunteers who produce the Keep In Touch Newsletter

Susanna Alves Editor and Layout [email protected] +54-(0)3757-422017 Puerto Iguaz, ARGENTINA.

Send your ideas and articles to any of the volunteers below.Charles Lamar Copy-Editor [email protected]

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The Newsletter is available via:Email full colour (the preferred method). Please confirm email receipt to Linda Lord Jackson.Printed Paper monochromeLarge A3 monochrome. For the vision impaired

Subscriptions: Suggested annual contribution: USA $20, UK 10 or Euro 15

Donations: Depending on which currency you use, please send your donation:North America: US$, Cash or Check payable to Tim Johnson

[email protected] +1-404-373-0633155 Garden Lane, Decatur, GA 30030, USAEurope (Euro Zone Euro only): Bank Transfer or Eurocheque payable to Anthony Lord, Johann-Finken-Str. 35, 41334 Nettetal,GERMANY. [email protected] +49(0)21 57 3109 Bank transfer: VOBA KREFELD. Ref: KIT !New! Euro only please.IBAN: DE66 3206 0362 2201 0520 10 BIC: GENODED1HTKFrom other countries: !New! See UK for other currencies.UK: Bank Transfer or Cheque payable to Raphael Vowles

[email protected] UK, PayPal UK +44(0)777 391 0044 Reading, Berkshire, UK

Bank transfer: Sort code: 40-47-58 Account: 85757290First Direct Bank, 40 Wakefield Road, Leeds, LS98 1FD, UK From other countries: Currency converted to UK can be deposited into theaccount using: IBAN: GB75MIDL 404758 8575 7290BIC: MIDLGB2172O (field 57) or Swift Code: MIDLGB22XXX HSBCInternational (First Direct) (field 56)

ResourcesYahoo Group: KIT-exBruderhof-CCI A members only archive.Scribd Web: Open archive - KITexBruderhofCCIAnyone can view its free, anonymous and easy

see The Universal Copyright Convention Geneva 1952

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KIT Vol XXVII No1 -Feb2015 HighRes 4-18MB