In Memoriam

Fourteen years.

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Life is too short. Don’t take anything for granted. Fourteen years ago, our nation was shaken by the senseless acts of heartless terrorists. Many lives were sacrificed on that day, and countless more have been sacrificed since. When you wake up in the morning, thank God that you are safe, and can go about your day enjoying the many freedoms we are guaranteed as Americans — all due to the selfless devotion, bravery, heroism, and valor of the men and women of the Armed Forces of the United States.

Image Courtesy Huffington Post

Image Courtesy Huffington Post

It’s easy to get lost in the politics, the debates, the arguments, and complaints about the state of our country or the direction in which we’re headed. But I ask you today, on Patriot Day, to keep ever mindful of how lucky we truly are to call ourselves Americans. Let us also #NeverForget the men and women who go to work every day as police officers, firefighters, emergency medical technicians, and other first responders who protect us day and night. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Do you remember where you were on September 11, 2001? I was in Mr. Chestnut’s third period Honors Introduction to Physical Science class at Clearview High School in New Jersey. The principal came over the loudspeaker and informed us that there was some sort of bombing in New York City, and that the details were unfolding. The administration turned on the classroom televisions and the classroom full of ninth graders watched in horror and disbelief as the events of that morning unfolded. I remember going from class to class that day, in complete silence, and watching some of the toughest teachers become incredibly emotional. No teacher assigned classwork that day, except for my history teacher. He instructed us to keep listening to the news as the details poured in. My thirteen-year-old brain tried to wrap itself around the idea of our country being attacked. The days following were extremely difficult as I heard the story repeated everywhere: on the news, in class, and at our dinner table.

I saved the front page of the Philadelphia Inquirer from September 12, 2001, and I look at it every year on this anniversary. It changed the course of our country and our world almost instantaneously, and the words “U.S. ATTACKED” are, to this date, the largest headline text I’ve ever seen on a newspaper front page.

9-12-01 Inquirer

I would ask you to keep a moment of silence today for the men and women who sacrificed their lives on 9/11, for those who have lost their lives fighting for our freedom, and for those who protect us every day.

Video Memorial for Werner Barbye

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EDIT: My dad wrote an explanation of the three songs in this video:

There are three songs on the video.  The first is “Ich hatt’ einen Kameraden” which is traditionally played whenever a German soldier dies.  The second is “Nach Meiner Heimat“, a song about going back to your hometown.

The third song was especially sentimental to Dad.  “Antje Mein Blondes Kind” was the song that saved his life in WWII and he would tear up every time he heard it.  Dad was in a bombed out building in Italy on the ground floor trying to contact the base with a field radio transmitter.  There were several other soldiers of his battalion on the second floor keeping lookout when “Antje Mein Blondes Kind” came on their shortwave radio.  They called for Dad to come up and listen to it but Dad insisted on continuing to make contact with base.  The guys yelled down that the song would soon be over and for Dad to hurry upstairs.  Dad was annoyed at their constant interruptions and finally took off his headphones and proceeded to go up the stairs.  About half way up the stairs, a bomb hit the corner where his field radio was.  The enemy had triangulated the transmission signals and bombed the radio location.
I still love and miss you, Opa.

Werner A. Barbye, 1925-2015.

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On Sunday, I had to say goodbye to Opa, my paternal grandfather. He was 89.

Opa and I after my graduation from pharmacy school

Opa and I after my graduation from pharmacy school

He was predeceased by his loving wife Elfriede:

He was admitted to the hospital on Thursday, January 8 with pneumonia in his right lung. He was largely unresponsive at the hospital, so the decision was made to bring him back to the nursing home and begin hospice care. After receiving the phone call from my mom with the details of the hospitalization, I made the decision to head home to New Jersey for the weekend to spend time with Opa and my family. In retrospect, this was probably the best decision I’ve made in recent memory. Opa passed away very peacefully with our family by his side on Sunday, January 11, 2015 at 4:00pm.

My memories of Opa are fond, and were brought back to life as we looked through hundreds (thousands?) of old family pictures this past weekend. Trips to the Aquatic Swim Club, Christmases in Oma and Opa’s basement, and walks around their neighborhood were well-chronicled, as Opa was often seen with camera in hand. We used to walk up Bullens Lane to the I-476 overpass, where Oma and Opa would let us stand up against the fence and pump our arms in hopes that a few big rigs would honk their air horns (you know what I’m talking about, right?) We would sit at the corner of MacDade Boulevard and count how many car carriers would drive by, anxiously waiting for Oma and Opa to let us have a few Gummibären. I still remember how Opa taught us the “right way” to pronounce Hechinger. Opa traveled with my family and I to Germany in 1998, where we celebrated Oma’s 70th birthday. From marching in the Steuben Parade in Philadelphia as a child, to drinking fine German Weißbier today, Opa taught me to always be proud of my German heritage.

Opa fought in the German army in World War II. He was captured as a prisoner of war by the Americans and was held at Camp Pickett in Virginia. I remember him telling me that, even as a prisoner of war, that was the best he was ever treated during the war. I’m fortunate to say I’ve heard some stories that will never be published in any history book.

In Opa’s later years, he and Oma moved into the Woodbury Mews, an assisted living facility not far from my parents’ house in New Jersey. Oma’s progressing Alzheimer’s dementia and Opa’s progressing Parkinson’s disease necessitated more advanced care than we would have been able to provide. Opa used to visit his bride every day, despite living on opposite sides of the Mews (Oma lived in a special dementia unit that provided closer supervision and care for patients with advanced memory disorders.) I vividly remember sitting by Oma’s bedside with Opa many times, but especially when Oma had been placed on hospice care. That was the only time in my entire life that I’ve seen Opa cry.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you’ve called or texted me or my family, thank you. If you’ve expressed your condolences via Facebook, thank you. Your support, thoughts, and prayers have helped my family through this difficult time. Opa’s memory will live on forever. Please stay tuned to Facebook for funeral service details.

As I’ve posted on Facebook, the German word for “goodbye” is “auf wiedersehen.” Literally, this can be roughly translated to “until we see (each other) again.”

Ich liebe dich, Opa. Auf wiedersehen.