Pump The Organ

All this technology is way over my very lil’ head. And growing up in Brachwitz would not be of help, because most of the people there understand farming only.. and that includes animals. Nevermind language skills and grammar. What a scary word ” Grammar”. In fact ” High German” and correct grammar was sneered at and called ” uppedy”..! Since my parents sent me to private school in Halle, I was one of the “educated” kids in Brachwitz, thus.. intensely disliked because of my “uppedyness” You see how quickly we landed in Halle, the big town near us, where people knew things outside farming and animals. What a hoyty -toyty place.. well you only went there if you absolutely had to, maybe to see an uppedy Doctor, or dare and look for an uppedy hat or something, like mom would do.

My mom.. this lady and who she was would fill a million pages.. and I think, it would be a fabulous read. Mom was a ” Brachwitz Special” a woman with looks, many talents, even a great cook and baker.. but most of all a professional Organist. Yes, hands and feet Organist. At the church organ, in the back there was a pump that had to be hand operated to get air to the organ. Mom would start playing.. suddenly stretch out her neck to check if “Walkow” was pumpimg.. or as usual.. be falling asleep at the helm. I hear her loud ” whisper”  :” Walkow.. pump man pump” Walkow would move his heavy head a bit and try to nod. He then pumped and pumped.. and Wilhelmine, yes mom’s name was Wilhelmine, would go on  playing. But.. as usual.. Walkow would fall asleep again, and Minchen would whisper loudly:’ Walkow.. pump man.. please pump ! This alone was worthy of being w

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