Enlarge Walking in my ancestors' footsteps.

Posted: July 7th, 2010 Rhiannon Fionn-Bowman

Travel, whether to another city, another region, or another country, often provides insight into other cultures and our own. This is an occasional series on what we can learn when we go somewhere else.

***

For as long as I can remember, my grandmother has told tales about her father's life in Germany and his quest to live the American dream. She details how he literally carved his first American home, a sod house, out of the Nebraska prairie, how their family struggled to survive, and how he always cheerfully helped his neighbors whenever he could.

By the time he died, she tells me, he was a successful man. He managed to piece together a 15,000-acre cattle ranch, had a lovely and loving wife and fathered 10 children, three of whom he outlived. And, Grandma says, he spoke with a thick German accent every day of his life.

As I child, I read Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House on the Prairie series and imagined my great-grandparents living similar lives. But I never could picture what my great-grandfather's life may have been like in Germany.

Not until recently anyway.

This spring, I traveled to Germany on vacation. Before leaving, I asked my grandmother to give me the name of her father's hometown. The information wasn't difficult to locate. A painting of her father's childhood home, with the address scribbled at the bottom, has hung on her wall for decades.

I must have stared at that painting for hours as a child, assuming everything in it was long gone. I assumed wrong. In fact, the town my great-grandfather Weber hails from, Esslingen am Neckar, is well known for its medieval timber homes, some dating back to the 13th century.

Hundreds of years ago, before America was even a dream, Esslingen am Neckar was a modern village; more modern than most, actually. While kings and lords ruled most of the land, they did not rule there. It was an independent city-state, ruled democratically by the wealthy traders who relied on the Neckar River and a sturdy stone wall, some of which is still standing, to both encourage trade and discourage vandals.

As I stood on Webergasse, or Weaver's Alley, looking at the house from my grandmother's painting, I was struck by how brave my great-grandfather must have been to leave such a place for the wilds of an unknown land with little more than ego and determination in his pockets.

After walking through his village, and learning from locals that the town's people have always prided themselves on their fierce independence and forward thinking ways, I realized, though my great-grandfather gave up a lot to follow his dreams, he was only fulfilling his destiny during those dusty, hard days that made up the bulk of his life.

I stood there, looking down at the cobbled, narrow streets and at the tidy, colorful homes, half a world away from my own modern suburban home, and for the first time in my life, felt truly connected to my roots.

And I left more determined than ever to follow my own American dream through its highs and lows to my destiny, whatever that may be.

***

Want to write a SMALL WORLD essay? We're looking for 500- to 700-word posts on your experience. Click here to email us for more information on being a guest correspondent.

Tweet

Previous Page