Scary Movie Memories

The Poltergeist doll

Who hasn't had nightmares about that creepy little clown doll from Poltergeist? My brother and sister and I watched that movie endlessly when we were little. It was important to us because it had scared the crap out of us! My grandma even made me a Poltergeist-like jester clown doll for Christmas one year. And my sister and I had lots of fun planting it in each others' closets and car trunks, just to try to catch each other off guard.
   I just had my Friday night dinner party with Margaret, Russ, Brandon, Jenna and Greg, and somehow the conversation turned to scary movies and gross stories.
   You know there's something impressive about a movie if there is a strong reaction in the theater. The most overwhelming response I remember is when Star Wars was re-released for its 20th anniversary. When the theater went dark, and the infamous golden letters popped up on the middle of the screen with that glorious triumph of music from John Williams, the theater erupted in applause. We were ready! We were MORE than ready. This was a movie that had molded many of us from childhood. To see it again on the big screen was an absolute thrill.
   Russ and Margaret remember seeing Alien when it was released in 1979. When the alien started bursting out of Kane's chest at the dinner table, Russ said everyone in the theater took a step back, like a wave throughout the room. Margaret said the alien creature was the scariest looking thing anyone had seen; nothing in the movies prior to that could compare to the fear that the dark skeletal villain elicited.
   Jenna said she noticed a similar response when she saw The Ring. She said people were trying to move up out of their chairs when something on the screen started coming out of the television. It sounded like it was crawling on the floor towards the people, so everyone was trying to get away from it!
My friend Amy remembers seeing The Blair Witch Project before the news had gotten out that is was a fraud. She thought the film was a true documentary, and she was absolutely terrified by the end of the movie.
   I knew the movie was a fake when I saw it, and it still scared me!

I met a Holocaust Survivor tonight

   Agi (pronounced "Aug-gie") Geva brought the crowd to their feet at the end of her presentation. I am so thankful that my office mate told me there was a Holocaust survivor coming to town. "They're dying off," my office mate had told me. This was a rare opportunity to meet a piece of living, breathing history.
Agi was only 14 when she and her younger sister and mother were sent to Auschwitz. She showed me the tattoo on her anterior forearm that started with an A (for Auschwitz) and a dash followed by numbers.
   The prisoners were transported in stuffy cattle cars to the concentrations camp. They had to remove their clothing and all the hair was shaved from their bodies. They were "humiliated" by being sprayed with disinfectant, and put into showers. "We were lucky that water came out of our showers," Agi said. Others, as most people know, were gased to death in some of those showers.
   Agi was fortunate enough to have a super-sharp mother who quickly picked up on survival tactics to keep her small family together. First off, they had to act like they weren't related. Agi's mother had seen that the Nazi officers made a point to break up families in the camps, so Agi and her younger sister Zsuzsanna were told to act like they were on their own.
   The also girls lied about their age, as their mother said to do, and claimed to be 18 and 19 (instead of 13 and 14.) Daily screenings were done at the camps, and people who appeared too weak to work were murdered. Agi became sickly-looking and sunburned at one point, and she was asked by a Nazi official to move to an area away from her mother and sister. Agi, quick to say the right things, claimed that she wanted to go with the other group so she could work. The Nazi, none other than Mengele himself (the doctor who performed horrid medical experiments on the prisoners) said, "You don't look well enough to work." She claimed that she was indeed, and she wanted to prove it when Mengele realized that she was speaking German to him. (Agi's father had insisted that his children learn multiple languages when they were growing up.) He agreed to let her work, and she was reunited with her mom and sister.
   The family of three were moved to another camp called Plaszow, and eventually back to Auschwitz. They were beyond distraught. Hardly anyone got sent back to Auschwitz a second time.
   They had to do ridiculous tasks like move big rocks back and forth to keep their physical strength zapped, and for a while they worked the grueling night shift at a factory in Austria making parts to support the war.
   Agi wore glasses, and before the physical health inspections, her mom would take her glasses and hide them in her shoes. She did not want her daughter selected against for having "weak eyes."
   One day 199 of the factory workers were rounded up and told to walk to the train station. This was the beginning of the Death March that became written into history. The prisoners had no idea what was going on, but the Germans had just been defeated by the Allies and were attempting to hide the evidence of the prisoners. Many people were marched into the woods and shot. Agi and her family had to walk 400 kilometers of rough terrain, over hills, through creeks. It was in February, they were poorly dressed, and it was very cold. They were "scared. Cold. Hungry. Tired. Desperate," she said. It was one of the very worst things she experienced, aside from the first day they were captured and indoctrinated into the camp.
Eventually, one of the prisoners looked around and noticed there were no guards around. They began talking amongst themselves to try and figure out what to do. They were "199 people with 199 opinions," she said. Before long they heard soldiers talking, and they were speaking English. They were greeted by American soldiers, who said they'd never seen such dirty, ugly women! Agi claimed they were very nice to the band of prisoners, and took them to a nearby ski lodge. They were allowed to take down the curtains to make dresses for themselves, since their clothing was so shabby. The soldiers took their requests for things like food and schnitzel, but Agi asked for a tube of lipstick after looking at herself in a mirror. She could not believe how bad she looked.
   Agi moved to Israel after the war. She said it was "great!" because "there were Jews everywhere!" She lived in Israel for 53 years, and she currently resides in Washington D.C. where she works as a volunteer at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum.
   Her sister is still alive today, but does not like to talk about her own Holocaust experiences. Their mother, Rozsa, lived to be 97 and a half before she passed, but never shared her own thoughts about the imprisonment. Agi said her mother's opinion was, "You are out. You survived. Forget it. Move on!"

Remembering Konrad Dannenberg

Photo: Konrad Dannenberg and Jennifer Lewter

   Konrad Dannenberg loved rockets, first and foremost. He also loved sweets, chocolate, beer, and music by Lawrence Welk. But rockets were his true love. He was 96 years old when he passed away this week, and I was very grateful to attend his memorial service and learn so many things about his life.
   I first met Konrad and his son Klaus at a space conference in Washington D.C. several years ago. Konrad, walking with a cane, was able to deliver a powerpoint presentation about his experiences with the infamous German rocket research and development at Peenemunde. Their accomplishments, including the efforts of the better known Wernher von Braun, became the technical foundations of the American and Russian space programs. I was simply amazed at this man - a living piece of history that was sitting and talking before me.
Klaus, during his Dad's memorial service, said that Konrad had walked through the Udvar-Hazy segment of the Smithsonian's National Air & Space Museum and was largely unimpressed. There were so many aircraft, but not many rockets. "There's not much here," Konrad had said to his son. (?!)
   Each family member who spoke mentioned the same theme - Konrad's focus was on rockets, but not much else. Most were tearful, and I myself cried through most of Klaus' talk. They were so honest and sincere, you may not have known that hundreds of people were in attendance, sitting quietly, respectfully, in the new Davidson Building of Huntsville's Space & Rocket Center with a gargantuan Saturn V rocket in the next room.
   One family member said Konrad was often asked about his involvement with Hitler, who would come to visit the young rocketeers at Peenemunde and check the progress made on their research. Konrad would say that he had also met John F. Kennedy, so why didn't people ask him about JFK? (How many people do you know who've met both Hitler and JFK??)
Klaus also spoke of Konrad's mid-life crisis, which was apparently a very difficult time for him. In Klaus' words, "When as a boy you set going to the moon as your goal, and you make it, then what do you do?" Konrad decided to "pass on the passion," and he became very involved with the youth programs at the Space & Rocket Center. It is estimated that he spoke to 250,000 young people during his years of service.
   It was also very important for Konrad to feel connected to the outside world. He was an adamant e-mailer, up until the end. His family testified that he liked to design his own birthday cards for them on his computer, and he never missed a date.
His body is what failed him, not his mind, said Jackie, his wife of 18 years. He never lost his sharpness, and he grew annoyed at the simple questions ("What is your favorite color?") the hospital staff would ask him to test his mental competency. Jackie joked that he should ask them what the ISP of the Space Shuttle engines were.

Godspeed, Konrad. It was such an honor to have met you.
-TEA

Armadillos and Costa Rican Coffee

   I had my Friday night dinner party with Margaret, Russ and Brandon. The food was excellent, as always, and Margaret had even prepared two homemade pumpkin pies for dessert. The guys finished dinner before me (I am ALWAYS the last person eating, regardless of who I am with) and started in on the pies. Margaret laughed when she realized she had forgotten to add the sugar to the pies. The guys quietly took turns covering their pieces of pie with whipped cream from a can, like some sort of necessary and solemn ritual that would make the pie bearable to eat.
   The after-dinner conversation turned to animals and veterinary practices and mercy killings, and Brandon told a very disturbing story about an experience he had many years ago. He was working as an attendant at a gas station, and someone had run over an armadillo. It was severely injured and ran towards the gas station, leaving a trail of intestines behind it. Brandon said it was making a horrible noise, and he tried to find something around the shop so he could end its suffering. Unfortunately, the only thing he could find was a baseball bat, so he proceeded to go outside to beat the poor thing to death. He splattered blood all over himself in the process, and at that inopportune moment, a customer pulled up to buy gas and saw, of course, a blood-spattered man holding a baseball bat. Brandon said he never came back!
   We had coffee after dinner, as we usually do. Brandon said he wanted to try to grow his own beans. Fresh coffee, just picked and served within hours of being roasted, is apparently as good as it gets. Margaret said she had some fresh coffee in Coasta Rica and it was unbelievably smooth. She said Costa Rica never exports their best coffee; they keep it for the locals. Which means it is time for me to go to Costa Rica!

A Peaceful Transition of Power

Photo: Reuters / Jim Young

    I cried when Rick Warren gave the invocation at Obama's inauguration today. I wanted to be there. The classical music piece, "Air and Simple Gifts," composed by John Williams, was just beautiful and so very fitting.
I let my class out so they could go listen to the inauguration. I told them it was a historic event, and I thought they should see it.
   Historians and critics claimed that Obama's speech was almost scolding in nature, as though he were a father talking to his children. I agree. Obama strikes a fatherly chord that I have not detected in any other President during my lifetime. It is wonderful. It is what we need. A true leader who cares for his people, who scolds us when we need it and who pats us on the back when we deserve it. (We haven't been patted yet because we don't deserve it!)
   My favorite phrase was "...know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy." Build, Obama, Build!
   I am proud to be an American. I am hopeful for our future. Today is a glorious day!

Happy New Year! Who was your First Foot In?

   I spent part of New Year's Eve at Crossroads, listening to the super-funk band "Discoasis." I sat with a lady who was getting a divorce. He husband was leaving her for another man. I told her she looked great, which she did, and I took a picture of her with my cell phone and I sent it to her.
I also ran in to a gentle long-haired fellow who I had seen as a regular at the 5 Points coffee shop. He was a computer person and music enthusiast, so I asked him some questions about my new iPod. He was very helpful. He never downloads songs from iTunes because their quality isn't very good. He prefers to buy CDs for two reasons: 1) the superior sound quality, and 2) he sometimes discovers new songs he loves by putting his iPod on shuffle and listening to unknown tracks on his CDs.
   I eventually met up with my friend P, who is from Scotland, and I was very pleased to find out that New Year's is a more celebrated holiday in Scotland than Christmas. ("Auld Lang Syne," anyone?) P said it was tradition for people to go around visiting their friends, toting Whiskey and a hot coal, I believe, to bring cheer and warmth into the New Year. And since you would be the first person through the door in the New Year, it was called "First Footin'." The tradition has been somewhat suppressed, however, since Scotland has passed strict drinking and driving laws.
   One New Year's Day, I went and saw my all-time favorite couple, Dr. H and Miss M, and they had prepared a wonderful meal of homemade Hoppin' Johns and rolls. And they served it with Champagne. They had prepared a digital slide-show of all their travels during the past ten years, which included Egypt, Australia, South Africa, Antarctica (three times), Alaska, Austria, Crete, and Russia. It was magnificent! They have wonderful friends from all around the world. The pictures were stunning. I was particularly fond of the one of them posing with a koala bear in Australia. Miss M said its fur was so soft she wasn't sure she was really petting it.
   Now I want a pet koala bear.

Dead Day is for TEACHERS!!!

   All students think that Dead Day is for them. It's not. It is for US - the teachers! The weary souls who are tired of calculating your grades so you can figure how much you can slack off on the final and still keep your scholarship that you probably don't deserve. (****Remind me to put explicit instructions on how the students can calculate their OWN grades in my next syllabus. This is getting old!)

    Today in the hallway, I had a brief but very meaningful talk with a co-worker who I admire deeply. She is a veterinarian by training, but now she teaches anatomy and physiology where I work. She is very smart, highly efficient, and a very warm and genuine person. I strive to be like her.

    I can't remember how the conversation started, but it didn't take long for us to stand face-to-face in the hallway, rapidly confessing our awareness of how much our students hate us. Our classes are difficult. We try to challenge them, and we attempt to instill a sense of respect for the sacrifices that were made by the scientists who have increased our knowledge and understanding of the physical world we live in. In return for our efforts, we receive animosity. Our students think we are punishing them, undeservingly. The truth is, they are so accustomed to an uneventful, unchallenged lifestyle that they can't distinguish between rigor and petty meanness. I know this because they respond with petty meanness. They are disrespectful in the classroom. They do not ask to speak before they blurt out something in class. They have to be told explicitly what to study, or they will do poorly on the tests.

    Today, I graded an anatomy lab practical from my class. The class average was a 41. Horrible. And I knew it was going to be that bad, because I didn't hold their hands during the TWO lab periods they had to fully dissect their rats and identify all the major organs. They all left during the first hour of the lab. And I didn't stop them. One girl didn't come to lab at all that day because she had to "go shopping for Homecoming." That same girl put down "anus" on the test for the rat's scrotum. And, she had the gall to ask me if I was going to curve the grades!

    In honor of rats everywhere, I said, "Uh, no."


- TEA, Monday night, Dec 8, 2008