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Memories of Sekitsch

  1. Letter to the native country
  2. This one "Hohl" and the Sekitscher "industrial area"
  3. An evening at home
  4. Walk through the seasons
  5. Travel in the past
  6. An answer
Letter to the native country

You are astonished all what has happened, that there is me still, after? Yes -- still I live if the hair already shimmers graily, too. I have got old, one has killed you. Unforgotten dear native country, and you further live so familiarly that I cannot but you in my heart in my lines anyway "you" to mention you! Do you still know how I took as a child and then as a boy growing up with enthusiasm everything in myself you offered to me with the colorful picture of your open fields? The picture formed and stamped your surging wheat fields, the slopes with the dark green vines into the little boy meadows the neat, erect lanes with the neat houses butterflies and birds all articles fluttering funnily in front of some fruit-trees bearing the fountains splashing constantly, the gardens with the most beautiful flowers and that one with the diligently blossoming ones and sweet fruits and everywhere between this in me . . all this -- and much more, I kept of you to this day and this this purchases again and again if think thoughts about you back honors. I found security through you because your people also did her best one to make you the native country in which one liked to live.
A happy children and youth was your present to me. You blossoming hometown. We got on well. I sat on the shore of your rivulet and dipped my fish-hook into his cloudy water, may bite in the hope, one fish with pleasure. I then wanted to bring it to the mother to show her that my childlike actions were successful. As a child one so likes to wait for a praising word anyway. You have to put me back with a courageous deed on my way to the life maturity another step, if it was valid, never let down. Your melody further carried me in my personal development everywhere.
You remember, dear native country, how beautiful it was if we drew meadows as wild rogues out to the back end of the little boys, there where the small grove of young acacias was in which one could play "robbers and gendarme" so well,because the adjacent corn fields also offered sufficient possibilities of hiding?
At such a game your restricted open fields changed müssens into a wide world of the adventure prove oneself and the themselves, one to win the fight of the life better than in the youth then when learned otherwise if one starts to go and gradually on the legs of his own to stand and to trust on the strengths of his own.
My memory jumps of the grove behind the little boys meadows -- this one to create the risk, you on the old cemetery to the resting-places of our ancestors perhaps a little suddenly -- over. Native country embellishes, you have mastered. Also they, the courageous settler ancestors, rested under shady acacias and heard the song of a lively bird world which, at you, exactly liked it as well as the people who were allowed to be your citizens daily.
Children were how marvelous your annual fair celebrations for us!
The smell of fried sweet chestnuts transfigured all the others, conditions inspiring the child hearts like the hurdy-gurdy of the merry-go-round with his eternally same melody, the corrosive fug of the shooting galleries or the seductive candy at the sales stands. Consume what a pleasant feeling there with the family leisurely to make busts out of newsprint with a bag at this under the coat filledly fried chestnuts being warm on the way home around her! The smoky smell of the chestnuts beguiled one on the whole way home. And my thoughts go to the journey again. I rove through the whole place as a child whether at Easter or Christmas, and collect my presents. No way was too long to improve no step the childlike standard of living with some dainties too much, if it was valid. How good the slab of chocolate which had mixed with the other preciousnesses tasted primarily! We were so undemanding. This one, and still you know as me at that time at Easter from sledges given the grandmother on the dry plaster with difficulty because perhaps I was afraid he could at Christmas if there is snow there be no more for heimzog? I think of your limewoods, acacias, chestnuts and mulberry trees which lined your ways and for whose shade one liked to look if the sun burned in the midsummer. On such days it was advisable to follow the house dog because he found accurately the coolest cookie. How often may you have laughed about the little whippersnapper if he crept away into the dog kennel on the search for a shady cookie? You still know, how with pleasure and how often we played in your lanes? You for certain haven't come along with counting. And gep was played marbles ' limps there so long until a window pane rattled at all. However, those hours in the evening were, where at breaking darkness into at all the most beautiful us one we assembled cross lane to dance according to the melody of a concertina. How often did we take the worrying feeling in such an evening with home that there must be more in the human life as what only children are interested in, got more adult meanwhile a little? The process of the adult development took us place into us and lasting, night then following us in this one with our still immature thoughts herumquälten. We knew only later that it is the most natural process in the life of man. There weren't many possibilities of the pleasure but what you offered was used even more thoroughly. There were the sluice and the beach where one could take a bath and there was the sports field on the "island" on which the young life pulsated daily. He was something like the stock exchange of the health. We played all games, kindest the ball games, rag ball self-even made things out of it if necessary, there. We probably suspected that the movement was the most important one at our games.
I have told you so much about the beautiful time of the year now of the days on which the sun shone. But you also had your frosty season, the winter, which could be cold bitterly and therefore the even one belongs to in the picture which lives in me of you today certainly, too. How beautifully your winters could be the color of the innocence if the endless knows you, wrapped up to a long sleep and one hardly heard another lute apart from the church bell and the little bells of horses sledge pulling at the neck! One then had to form the much time and leisure but also desire at your picture. Of not and this picture certainly didn't get coincidental so beautifully and durably that it never let the one who painted it off again approximate he fetched the colors to this for the deepest heart reason anyway. I still should tell you much actually "behind the stove" about the season but I wouldn't like to close with a "supercooled" heart. A last picture still imposes itself on me before I close my letter to you: I am in our garden. It is evening, the day's work rests. I hear the frog concert which takes place every evening there in the beautiful season of the "island" over here. It is as if the air vibrated. It so pleasantly mildly runs for me over the back like the evening. Is for me as if somebody touched me. It could be your soft hand which strokes and wants to comfort me that one has taken you away from me. Now where I don't have you any more I remember you you as your child never itself forgetting around native country loved so more even more heartily!

This one "Hohl" and the Sekitscher "industrial area"

Crows have welcomed the red sky on an empty stomach with hers, the first horse-buggies which have a long journey on the Semtamascher Hotter ahead of themselves already rumble, too after the roosters. On this interruption of the night's rest the versatile barking of dogs follows in major and minor key and the low notes the metal tooting of the sow holders play the organ himself to the orchestra of the morning music automatically. Later, the whip banging of the drovers then beats time to this, too.
The farmer cars, the pig herds and the herds of cows head the Pomeranian this one in a continuous cloud of dust by "Hohl". The vehicular convoys draw this one "Hohl" up. The pig herd trots along after one has added some municipality boars for her toward her corner of the hat pasture. We rogues come with our bang whips via the island to the "sweat pea stable" to gaze at the brawny bulls in admiration. The herd of cows collects gradually around the long trough until one lets 2-3 cultivation bulls off on her, off-spring must be provided, on what she also takes her way away from the hat pasture on the grazing area.
After the crowd and the Gewusel has "Hohl" faded away a little at this one now and the dust open makes the way to itself in the direction of the little meadow", we want to turn to the real one "Hohl". It is the steep face which is high and dug vertically going in the semicircle by which "reason" for stamping the many house walls was fetched since the settlement. There were 220 houses at the settlement and for the end of the tree garden up to the inn Laux in the Kulaer lane 1342 street numbers. Besides this was anderwärts much also uses "reason" to fill the "Tällerle" out in the middle of the village. "Reason" and was fetched also much for it; whether the name doesn't come "to fetch" "Hohl" of this anyway? What do you mean, how high could dear readers, be these walls dug by the Teletschka? I estimate so. oh, these were higher me? However, it also many Sekitscher don't have these and she has marched off seen open that the "Spitzler rogues" had dug stairs in the steep wall on even. Yes the rogues still wanted the Pomeranian more highly from out although she lived "Spitz" the in already
One has at the "hollow" but also sand fetched. Perhaps was the wall dig undermined a little sometimes, too? How could two children have been buried alive 80-90 years ago otherwise? Reyers house on the plaster lane (Nr.278) has concerned it. This one was above the dug wall -- to these banisters at the way ' led into the "Stickle".
The cows want to be milked and the herd of cows is sent to item twelve on the journey home. The way the cows find alone, the cowhand must check only at every lane junction.
We are changing from the "Wickenstall" to the hat pasture across the street on the real "industrial area" now. The tree garden would be there first. He is surrounded by a high, non-transparent nature fence as if he had to conceal a secret. Mulberry trees and other fruit-tree types presumably are cultivated here. If one, however, overlooks the hat pasture above from here, no end can be foreseen. But a bumpily flat place on which the first soccer match has taken place in Sekitsch is same under the tree garden fence in his whole breadth. At the beginning of the twenties we Sekitscher students in Werbaß of our pocket-money have bought a second-hand soccer and then founded the soccer club. We played against Hegyes and 1:3rd it would amount to a sin of omission lost if I didn't here mention how lovingly Schifflers Lennert kept in good condition, mended and inflated this old soccer. Later first was transferred and provided with gates on the hat pasture down the soccer ground. The Csornai Richard then trained the generation of the best footballers whom we had: A lot of joy has prepared us Kilz, Roß, Gutwein etc. but also Benzinger Christian, Weinrich Bela, Tauss Laci and others. Man was almost regularly absent before every game of 11. The desperate team captain then asked the Klein Rudi whether he would have training, then. This one then said: "Yes Bizzickitraining" and he then became built.
When the "half Sessionen" were measured at the settlement of the place a gigantic hat pasture was left nearby the village. Several craftsmen must have stepped down and preferred to have left at her needle and her last and the "half Session" already allocated haven't accepted country as a "farmer" at that time. However, this country had left also must have been too much for the settlement commission; she submitted it to the municipality later. From this the "half sessions farmers" per a stepping place for 300 Quadratklaftern and every house then got a substitute garden to 600 Quadratklaftern and one yoke each vineyard. This one got "pointed" and the "rooster lane" built on this area in the course of the time. Everything as well was built on which was still taken away by the hat pasture up to the Hegyescher cemetery and up to the Beronstadt.
To this, that in the area where the hemp factory was built later, the street, a brick distillery has stood a little more nearly, many an older Sekitscher will still remember. These brickworks himself probably belonged to the municipality and could there everybody his bricks burn. However, he had to bring straw because this brick distillery was heated with straw. It has to be assumed that some making funny ones combined forces with a fire every time. I can still remember that excrement stones were here still beaten when the brickworks were already a ruin. There also was a dug wall "Hohl" there which wasn't as high as this one at this one, though.
Since I just was mentioning the later hemp factory, I also must say that also already early hemp was cultivated in Sekitsch.
We still remember the many roles with a hänfenem cloth in the linen cupboards of our grandmothers by whom the sheets were made through generations well and I have had the towels in even better memory with which one could rub his back so pleasantly left. One could see pale in the grass lying on it clear for a long time of this canvas; they had to be poured water on again and again. The weavers being included and rag blanket doers have got unemployed by now. Formerly, the "ufgegeelten" extra rooms will the rag blankets rot into now again, however. At that time at which one has cultivated the hemp for the domestic use one also needed directly one hemp roasts.
A whole "Banda" arrived of "Kubikoschen" one day and I was of cross and crossing itinerant Kubik-pondering mooses in the middle of a hurly-burly suddenly. These were it chaise pondering mooses with a box of a cubic meter of contents 15-20 two-wheeled so. When unloading they were dumped to behind. Where they were digging and loading, I haven't come through any more. With the unloaded "reason" the whole area was leveled. The "Kubikosche" were Hungarians and could, as also this one gravel stone sounder at the high road, have been from Hegyes.
One needed water for filling the "Hannefreetz" and too much wasn't available in our Krivaja of this in summer. Therefore the sluice was then built and the water dammed, too. The angestaute water was let run or turned off over a little lock gate. Water was that our only place for bathing above the sluice angestaute for a long time where one could not stand any more and therefore practice swimming, too. When the "Hannefreetz" then had frozen up ready and in winter she became ice heels of us the most beautiful winter sports field. If the men had idly to spend her time in the living room or in the smoky inn room, it was for her like a release for the long, cold winter months if it went ice heels to this into. If the ice had the belonging thickness, the hosts and the meat hackers blew for the ice heel celebration. Your neighbors moved willingly with horse and cars to the "Hannefreetz" where one could let off steam. The atmosphere increased up to that one of a public festival because schnapps and wine bottle hers also turned rounds. The minced ice was driven to it above the "hollowly" situated cold stores at once to be of benefit to everybody in summer as a welcome cooling.
This everything also happened in the "Moope", how in the earlier times this "stamp houses", this roof blankets and the other greater work were mastered jointly. Even after the expulsion was at the "Häuslebauen" (build house) gone back to the traditional customs in the new native country again.
It was regarded as a social great feat with right when the invalid home was built in the "Schübler-Aera", that the house places were given to the invalids. However, it also can be thought that "Gäßl" at that time, as the "Weingärten" and this were built and the narrow house places which could be enlarged by taking away of the "mountains" only to behind were given away by the municipality also more or less. These are only assumptions, though. Perhaps there is even older Sekitscher which know it better, however? Dear readers, after you have held out to here I still want to cheer you up with a true short story a little now.
An ox car loaded with fruit bags came in the greatest heat quite clumsily this one "hollow" down to thresh just after this in the lunchtime, covered with two black buffalo oxen. One could hardly introduce himself to the speed of the oxen that they still would reach the station on the same day. You shook as the car already so far down the "mountain" that the buffalo saw the water-jump, movement got in her stiff legs. You had a try, it was to accelerate the speed so well and the car started dangerously to rock. The coachman tried to stop the oxen with the whip but this didn't help. You maneuvered the heavy vehicle directly into the Krivaja, lay down in this until they were cooled down completely. However, the coachman wasn't as angry as he worked about the cooling perhaps. Hannesp`hatt finally got her on her feet again and in front of Schneiders as him " ' " his house on the street had brought, hadn't even got wet on the car the bags. So the water-level was so miserable in the Krivaja in the rainless summertime.

An evening at home

Contrary to the winter and soon, we go already to want to we retire with giant strides after done daily work into the homely warm room to still spend a couple of little whiles at a cosy idleness before going to bed again. Then it was also at home if we rubbed our back pleasantly at the edge of the tiled stove spitting warmth or sat quietly in a corner of the kitchen-cum-living-room and watched the leisurely flickery embers in the stove in the long winter evenings. We always had much time there to think about the last day or to hatch plans already for the coming one again.
I won't so as if he spoke inaudibly a long, hearty prayer, forget the picture of the grandfather, the old farmer, time of my life as he sat in his worry chair thick besides the tiled stove, swept with all his senses into himself, being silent in such evenings for hours, the hands over his age rounded belly gefalten. Was it hours of deeply felt thanks for a work rich, fulfilled life which granted the leisure these well-deserved hours for him now? Provides his house directional, his children, his journey through life had closed behind him so. He had only had the memory left but one could fill the old age and this didn't weigh less than all the efforts and successes of a work rich life with that.
But we leave the grandfather in his settlement room and we turn to that part of the life which didn't take place next to the stove being warm in the wintry evenings. We make a step to outside in the balmy summer's evening if the day's work carried out, the cattle in his stables provided and the supper was taken. Life came to the lane bank in front of the house onto the street there where the most important news was exchanged and the latest news passed on now. It rested and talked himself good at the bank in front of the house under the acacias or mulberry tree, because the road was blown up and the air clean. The departing day, so long, still remained unchanged in front of the breaking dusk, we were allowed to see the round dance of the untiring swallows in her fight against the gnat plague. One of these hard-working birdies here and there sat down on the the ball of the electrical line to rest, like us, a little and unszu say hello.
It was usually the older people who whiled away the time with various chats at the lane bank. The younger had gone out because waited someplace. a rendezvous on her. But, if the old slept already, lane bank swept her on the empty been now back, sometime at a later hour, too, the luck of the young years in cosy togetherness sat down there down, cuddled and enjoyed quite narrowly to each other. Which money-making would have learned the message stock exchange could have told the lane bank! We still carry the native country into us in our hearts as a pain let at the lane bank someplace. And we look into a fog landscape if we look for her in our memory. We thought to have found what for the eternity at that time, has passing away been already soon after ours an on call stationary happy time.

Walk through the seasons

Always if our thoughts hurry in the past, we meet those colors glad pictures of an eventful nature as she is able to design feeling only spiritually so hearty. In the change of the seasons we took at home many impressions from lasting beauty into us which determine our thinking and feeling after the loss of that peaceful, native world today certainly, too. Experienced youthfully and marked spiritually cannot be replaced always any more. You follow me, dear compatriots, ' walk through the native seasons on mine! The last snow had hardly melted, the first flowers stretched cheekily her brains out into mother garden there. It started with a flourishing wastefully, was humming hard-working bees of the sweet smell of innumerable shiners flattered and of the tireless sung of. Was there at all an Easter on which the green meadow wasn't strewed by a sea of colored little Blums? I feel in my soft child little hands the luxuriant, sap green tufts of grass certainly today which I picked on the meadow and put in my little basket so that the Easter bunny didn't need to be hungry. The sun was so high in the sky already soon in the year that her beams fell almost vertically to the earth.It came the time at which moved out of the reapers onto the fields to catch up with the harvest. This was certainly hard work which lasted from the first sunbeam to in into the dusk in the morning. Picture defy all tribulation, also this the memory seems transfigured to us lovably today only certainly, one knows anyway that it was necessary to fill the chambers with the daily bread. Who of ours wouldn't find the singing of the threshing machine the song of glad creating as the hymn of our beneficial work then? If the work rested for a while, one liked himself to allow a refreshing bath on the beach at this weekend. Already on the way there still before one entered the bathing area one could smell his water and his splash, mixes with the sound more merrily children's voices hear? It was fresh water alone which let the visit of the beach become an experience but not this; one also liked to sit on the shady terrace, orchestra which elicited enchanting melodies from his string instruments consumed his ice or drank his lemonade and listened to it dreamily there. The corn fields were hardly reaped, new enthusiasm already started there; the vintage started. Cars with big barrels rumbled, out to the vineyards and nobody wanted to be missing through the lanes, if it was necessary to fill the juicy grapes into the barrels, to squeeze out at home and to convert to a sweet fruit juice her. From him became finally the substance which helped give this one to winter evenings in the string to give cheerfulness. We finish our short walk with a sledge ride over the wide country through the seasons. Wrapped up we let be ourselves dragged by the wintry landscape, getting the schnapps bottle out from case to case, into the fur cape being warm of two horses to support the process of on being warm effectively. We felt, as it we pleasantly by body and soul trickled and as new strengths and new plans into us purchased, already the look the coming one turned towards the new year which in turn should become a year of divine blessing in a native security.

Travel in the past

We already wait for the approaching spring for the most beautiful season as one uses to say. Something must have his turn at this assertion. Aren't you also like me? Always if I think of Sekitsch and stroll in thought through his lanes is spring. Then always seem the sun. Nature has woken up from her sleep and sets the new season the delicate green for the triumphal march toward the departing, icy winter on. The first buds start in the gardens to sprout and open on the trees. The nature again woken up will be covered by a colored flower sea soon, beetles will crowd over young grasses and in the airs butterflies will flutter, a beautiful than the other one. Precisely at this moment my thoughts reach the dear hometown and go on travels through the familiar world of a filled youth. Wouldn't you like to walk with me? We have come by train and get out at the station. The bus we could get on already stands there, too. But because we have time, we want to cover the way to the village on foot.
On the right and on the left the way we see cultivated countries. Wide open fields will be covered of canary yellow wheat soon. And replete green corn stems will rise to the sky still later. We here and there see a crouching summer arbor surrounded by vines fruit-trees occasionally jut out of. And over everything hard-working swallows draw her trains by the airs. You are on the hunt for food, this one himself offers the native sun bill glistening in this for them in the abundance.
We have already approached the village so far now that we recognize the outlines of the first houses. And even the church steeple juts out over the pointed gables. We hear how further his bell heralds definitely the full hour and this sound swings on the last part to the place middle into us.
We stand now in front of the place of worship there. It is even more beautiful, even more raised than we have ever known it in our thoughts. The angel glitters with the trombone on the roof of the pulpit in the most beautiful gold inside. We listen with rapt attention to the game of the organ whose sound flattered solemnly and raised in humble admiration us at many causes once. " eye God " over the altar and then we discover this and be frightened because tears which are as red as blood escape from him. A presentiment until the sad end of our beautiful church?
We leave the place of worship and go further, through the main lane and the Pomeranian, up up to the tree garden. The juicy shoots whose sweet fruit much zest for life donates so infinitely hollowly and on the left grow above on the right this one behind the invalid town. We see from above how are into the hectare frosts' hard-working people at work and hear the even operation cycle of the hemp breakers out of the nearby hemp factory we. We then move on, the dig along, at the mill past, up to the windmill. Your wings turn silently and throw restless shade on the earth. We are tempted like lively children over these shadows hinwegzuhüpfen but we cannot speak all too long stay. The beach lures with his refreshing water. We rush, a couple of rounds swim and drink then a cool lemonade on the shady terrace in.
It becomes evening and we continue our walk. So we reach the old cemetery soon. It moves up us. Behind the gate the ancestor monument greets us and behind this the earth hills sunk in which cover our settler ancestors spread. Into prayers we stop in front of them, fold our hands and pray quietly. And then our lips whisper: "We are here because we cannot forget you. And you always will stay with us, we promise this!"
We drive the way back to the station with the bus because we have got tired on our walk. The hard benches of the vehicle keep us up. You push a little but the farewell is also painful. When our train gets into movement, we wave to the native country sinking in the distance. But it isn't a farewell for ever again and again in our thought because we come back.

An answer

I was recently asked by a native what has been so beautiful at our former native country, then that we cannot forget her. Confessed honestly I remained guiltily the answer not because I wouldn't know this but therefore because I immediately felt which extent with which I would have had to answer the question got alive at feelings in me. And this didn't go in a short sentence.
I didn't come to the quiet since then any more and have asked me the question again and again myself: What was so beautiful at our native country? The test is worthwhile, I think that way to respond to it.
We lived at home on an "island". Most of our people have seldom, many even never left the hometown. This may appear as overdue so to speak in our time of today particularly since we were cut largely off the development by it more or less anyway outside the area of life of our own. We so what spurt into us, something like an irresistible desire for that hectic development, then, how she every single day takes hold of ours with all her unpleasant consequences today? Wasn't it much nicer to be allowed to experience the security in our village community daily where everybody practically knew everybody while we know not even the name of our neighbor today in many cases certainly? One helped each other out if need was at the man and sealed a done deal with a handshake in the justifiable confidence that the debtor will realize his obligation while, today, a notarial contract doesn't even offer a sure liability for it more yet. How was it calming to know anyway that one wasn't left alone if one was into need if one might weiterwohnen and weiterleben as an old person in the settlement with the children instead of being pushed away into the anonymity to an old people's home? We didn't need laws in which parents and child duties were regulated because the knowledge came from the education and therefore from the heart around what is a human duty. Our marriages and families, the only natural basis of a healthy community life, were put so tightly that there were hardly divorces. Everybody just knew that a human connection doesn't only consist taking but primarily giving.
We learned already to handle the joys of the life as children modestly and undemandingly. How pleased about every apple or about a slab of chocolate which the godfather did to us into the basket at Easter or Christmas were we? And, if we got really another box of building blocks or a soccer given as a birthday present, the joy was twice great. We didn't look for the doubtful diversion in one lightly either and lärmüber-flooded narrow room in which the senses are overworked and damaged up to the late night. We got our pleasure from game and sports outside in the free nature.
And there outside the first sleep robbing senses of later durable community among man and woman also germinated under fragrant acacia flowers or in the tasty smell of a stubble-field. Our community grew on the bottom of a natural world and not between foul-smelling solid lines of cars which allow themselves no more quiet and also steal the last rest of tranquillity. And this community is lasting except for today.
Primarily younger people who haven't experienced our native country like to be inclined to smile at our civilization then pityingly and to understand her as our culture falsely from time to time. We had certainly to fetch our water at the fountain because we didn't have any water pipes. But is tapwater healthier, then, as our artesian water it was? And on this it comes at and not on this anyway, where one has it from. We had to go also over the court if the most human of all needs arrived for us. But the hygiene has therefore been lower in our apartments? There wasn't any television, no computers and hardly cars. And nevertheless we were informed, learned to calculate and accomplished every goal on foot if not so anyway with the horse-buggy. We played instruments and sang our songs whose text everybody still understood. We talked in the mother tongue and not into at all imported lingo for one from which more anyway speaks than after communication the reprehensible need for a lying intellect. We didn't like over-estimation of the abilities garnished with covered arrogance. We all the more consciously paused modestly in the narrow bonds of our national traditions, however, and lived so less a deceitful civilization as an unadulterated, clean culture. And just therefore wants to seem to us how the civilization escalates as if this culture was stunted in the same measure today.
Our native country was an intellectual experience. Your picture which we joyfully bear in the heart always is experiencing been allowed to drawn of the youthful. This picture cannot be indicated with today's scales. The stamp of quality of her beauty further lives satisfaction, security and luck in the ideas then in the norms for modesty. To this neither the technical development nor the in many places ascertainable judging fall is able for something to change in our time of today. Moral concepts of civilization are subject to a steady change. What unchanged continues to exist is the intellectual content of our existence. To this nothing still has changed. And therefore we feel our native country so nicely that we cannot forget her.