With its entire weight, boredom burdened us at school; it was jolly good fun when we had a chance to practice the power of our lungs one class at a time, spelling out in unison. Otherwise one tries to amuse oneself with sculptural works of paper, formed into little roosters, ships, salt shakers or the like. [ . . . ]
Quite often in the afternoons, following the end of school, the books were hidden behind a rock so they would not interfere with playing, at times actually being used as sledges on the ice. It was not unusual to see youngsters leave elementary school only at the age of 17 or 18, when they had done studying and were able to read the title book or – even the newspaper. A laudable exception to these goings-on was the Protestant elementary school administered by a dignified teacher by the name of Almenräder. [ . . . ]
And what joy abounding with the poetry of a child’s heart was ‘Zinther Klohs’ – St. Nicholas! – a real children’s festivity. With what ardor did we pray for the opening of the gifts that the ‘holy man’ brought, who was accompanied by ‘Hans Muff,’ the terror of naughty children. Every child’s heart was thumping loudly with fear, since on the eve of the gift opening, 6 December, the holy man, accompanied by his maid, Saint Barbara, and Hans Muff visited the houses with his donations and serious admonitions, or apples, nuts and similar treasures were thrown by a invisible hand to the crowd of children kneeling and praying. How devout from the bottom of their hearts did the little ones’ Lord’s Prayers sound, when the bell rang from the street or in the hall.
And what a familial merriment it was, when on the precious day we put out our bowls and quite likely our shoes as well. [ . . . ] The main riches consisted [ . . . ] conventionally of gingerbread cookies, apples and nuts.
It was a true children’s festivity, rich in the poetry of belief. And how long, quite long one tried to keep at arm’s length the appearance that one knew who the holy man was, because then the gift-givings ceased. What’s more, in these gift-givings for children, no ostentation made itself felt yet. A picture or even a colorful Nuremberg illustrated broadsheet, what a delight! Though the odd specimen of toy, particularly sisters’ dolls, was examined and destroyed out of pure investigative curiosity, mother locked the major items away carefully, using them to make us happy only on special days; – the toys remained new and in the wealthier families, they were surely also passed on from generation to generation. Economizing with respect to everything was something our fathers, our mothers knew well [ . . . ].
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