1966 - I am 18 years old, married, 6 months pregnant and very naive. A call from Bielefeld - "lots of gigs here", Mike Warner says....but they don't happen like planned. Earnings are swallowed up by the need to pay the weekly rate for the boarding house. One room, where I boil water without a stove, using a strange electrical device that you place inside the water. Hungry at night-dreaming about fried pork chops and desserts dripping with sugar and chocolate (why does one dwell on unhealthy fare when starving?)
He makes enough to cover the rent but almost passes out while counting out the bills to the landlandy. I come down the stairs from our room and she turns and spits angry words at me for not giving him anything to eat while she is feeding him a ham sandwich. I stand there watching, not looking hungry at all in my pretty black and white checkered maternity dress and a huge belly filled with Leslie. Pregnant women are not looked upon favorably.
We share a german meatball in a pub while watching the world cup. England beats Germany 4 to 2. I cheer. It was a good game.
Lothar Apel, keyboarder, musician in the band, shows up with a taxi from Wiesbaden. No, he hasn't hired the cab, rather, he is working for the taxi service, "in the interim" he says. He somehow manipulates the kilometers he drives to fetch us so as not to have to pay his boss for the distance. Lothar has put the music equipment in hock for the down payment of a flat. If we want the equipment back, we have to move in and come up with the rent.
Again, not much food -rent must come first. Must have a roof over our heads, afterall, and more importantly, get the amps, speakers, mics, etc. from the landlord. The flat is a kitchen and bedroom with 2 twin beds on either side of the room. Furnished, with pieces left behind from former tenants. I itch at night, not sure if things are crawling on me or if it is my imagination. In the daylight, I search, find nothing and see no marks on myself.
Friendly neighbors, single, middle aged women mostly, divorcees, struggling to survive, but not knowing it. Their lives having been much worse when they were married to their alcoholic husbands. I spend my days trying to manage my new home, compensating for my drab surroundings with colorful doilies and knick knacks. I look at the silver forks, knives and spoons my grandmother gave me. I place them lovingly back in the box. Not to be used now, not here.
7 months pregnant by now. I am the lookout in the potato field across the road from the flat. It is dark and he digs up the potatoes while I watch for the owner of the field. Cars and trucks pass by and each time I dive down to the ground, so as not to be seen. It gets more and more difficult as the weeks go by - can't get down or back up as fast with my unborn child in the way.
Potatoes, three times a day and for dessert. I make them fried, baked and mashed. They are grilled and scalloped. Potato salads become masterpieces. Proud of myself - couldn't even boil a potato when first married. Now I become a master of the spud.....Irish - move over!
He does floor shows with Pete Lancaster in France, Africa, all over Germany. We go to Pete Lancaster's house where a welcoming stew is always found on the gypsy family's stove. It is available to anyone who comes by. I eat and long for Mom's cooking.
8 months pregnant - I read up on how to deliver a baby, just in case. I am apprehensive. Have not even seen a doctor yet. No prenatal care for me. Wouldn't know a braxton hicks contracton from Adam. Hoping everything is the way it should be - wouldn't know if it wasn't. I am the child - playing with the baby things given me by others as if they were doll clothes.
My parents come and bring us home to Ramstein Air Base. I cry because I feel safer now. Back in my old bedroom.
9 months -Can't give birth in the military hospital and local German Hospital has some kind of rampant infection among patients. I go to a midwife (still haven't seen a doctor).
"Call me" she says, "when you go into labor." "How will I know?", I ask. "Oh, you will know" , she tells me.
November 17, 1966 - We go to see the Everly Brothers perform on the airbase in the NCO club. No place to sit - standing room only. I stand for two hours -very pregnant.
November 18, 1966 - Early morning. I lose my water and the labor (yes, I knew it) begins. The midwife comes. She makes him hold my head in his arms. My parents in the other room. I am scared. No one prepared me for this. 2 1/2 hours later, Leslie is here, with a full head of hair. She is beautiful. The midwife has delivered her 200th baby, she says.
I sleep, I rest, I sleep. Baby by my side in a basinette. I look at her frequently. Nursing, loving this tiny person who came from within me.....all without a doctor's help. Up the next morning and doing what Mom's do. Midwife comes and determines everything is well taken dare of. I never see her again. Delivery was only about $150 in cash......but cost me a lot more in other ways.....
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