Moira

Beleive it or not, but here is another part of my history. Life was cool I guess with my parents together and all, but I guess you don't really know alot about life at that age. My father's father passed away when I was around 4 years old and I can't really remember him either. My father got some money and my parents decided to buy a hotel in a small town in upstate New York, called Moira, not far from the Canadian border. I don't really know, if they ever were happy there.

Across from the hotel, just in the height of our window was the siren of the firestation and it seemed like there must have been an alarm every other night. My mother had been in Germany in Chemnitz, when the allied planes bombed the city. The siren in Moira was just such a siren and we stood there, staring out of the window so many times. It must have been terrible for her. I was just a kid then, but I felt that something was going wrong. Slowly, but surely my father began to drink. Things got out of hand and, well, my mother and me came back to Germany after a year or so and the hotel went bancrupt.

It was a great hotel! It was one of those palaces from the roaring 20's with a theatre and everything! If I would have known then, what I know now... I couldn't have done anything or do you think anyone would have listened to a 4 year old?