Return to Checkpoint Charlie

Ted. It is great to be back in Georgia, where we have been welcomed with open arms by family and friends, but I do find myself drifting back to Europe in my mind. One string of memories was reopened when we took our 15-year-old grandson to Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin. Parker has accompanied us on several trips out of the US so it was only natural that he should fly to Germany to accompany us for the final two weeks of our RTW trip.

I was 22 back in 1974, not much older than Parker when I first crossed the border into the DDR (East Germany). A friend of mine planned to visit friends there and I jumped at the chance to tag along. Was I scared? I don’t think so. I strode through Checkpoint Charlie confident in a belief (still held by many US citizens) that “I’m an American so nobody will hurt me.” Visiting with a family "behind the Iron Curtain” started out as an adventure but ended up as a deeply moving experience. As a Lutheran minister in a Communist country, Heinz was considered a dissident. He was carefully watched and his family was subjected to many hardships. We really bonded and, in the ensuing years, maintained a correspondence and growing friendship.

In 1984, Judy and I decided to travel to Europe again, this time with two children in tow. We added the DDR to our itinerary, more as a mission than an adventure. We had routinely sent packages to Heinz and family containing blue jeans and gifts for their four kids. So, we flew to Berlin and I found myself at Checkpoint Charlie once more with a backpack stuffed with contraband. I had the usual ham, chocolate and jams that were impossible to find there. I also stashed West German newspapers, magazines and books that were strictly forbidden. When the burly East German border guards started to open my pack, Judy pinched our 2 year old to make him cry. The annoyed guards gave up the search and waived us through. This was soon followed by a tearful reunion with our friends. Judy was dumbstruck by the life they led.  There were no fresh fruits or vegetables to be found. Secret police sat in on youth meetings at Heinz’s church. Their oldest daughter had been informed she could not attend a university. The list went on and on. But yet, they found joy in life. I asked Heinz if the Berlin Wall would ever come down. “Yes,” he assured me, “but not in our lifetimes.”

Communications became increasingly difficult over the years but we reconnected eventually and earlier this month, we were able to visit that same small village, now in a unified Germany, for another tearful reunion.

So, when Parker stood at Checkpoint Charlie, which is just a museum piece now, I thanked God that one small barrier between peoples had tumbled down, giving me hope for the demise of those that remain.