I was born at a most tumultuous time in history, in the middle of World War II. Hitler had annexed Austria to Germany in what he called the “Anschluss” on March 12, 1938. I have vague recollections of the war and post-war period, especially the drone of the American B-24s, the Liberator, as they flew over our home. They flew regular sorties to German and Austrian cities, especially those that made military hardware. My home village in annexed Austria was just 25 miles from Steyr, where they made Panzers (tanks) for the Wehrmacht (military). The bombers came right over our village. Occasionally, they would accidentally drop a bomb on us, either on the way in or out. I am sure it was accidental because we were just a small farming town with no military assets, and they were anxious to save every bomb for the factories that made tanks. Whenever they flew over our home, the noise was impressive. If I was out playing in my sandbox, my mother would rush out, grab me, and take me into the house, as if that would make a difference if one of those “accidental bombs” were to hit us. The occasional bomb was almost always in an empty field or on a mountain, and it never caused any damage. Occasionally, they would drop an empty gasoline canister, for which my father was very grateful, as towards the end of the war, there was no gasoline for anyone but the military, and there was always a gallon or two of aviation fuel in those canisters for his Harley Davidson motorcycle, which he used to make house calls. And the empty canisters, when split in half the long way, became a great canoe for me.
The time after the end of the war, May 8, 1945, was a threatening time. The Germans were no longer in control, and the Americans had not yet had sufficient manpower to devote to controlling the population. There were no police, no infrastructure to deliver food, no fuel, no electric power generation. Petty crime was rampant. It was bedlam! It was the first time that I experienced real hunger. But we survived. I remember that fall we had a bountiful harvest from our pear tree. Those were the best pears I had ever tasted! The Allies divided up Austria into four sections, each one taken by the US, France, England, and Russia. We were extremely lucky not to be in the Russian Sector. My father got a job with the US Army as a doctor. The camp was in Linz, Austria, about seventy miles away. He could get home only every two weeks on a weekend. He did that for several years, but he realized that once the Americans left Austria, he again would not have a job, as Austrians would not give him a license to practice medicine because he was not an Austrian. He had no choice. We had to leave Austria. But the US was not a choice, as my father had escaped from Stalin’s Russia, making him and his family enemies of not just Russia, but their friend, the US, as well. We were accepted to immigrate to the Gold Coast in Africa (now Ghana). In early 1953, we were packed to go to the Gold Coast. Then a miracle happened. On January 20, 1953, Dwight D. Eisenhower became U.S. President. One of the first things he did was to unfriend Stalin. Now we were no longer rejected from immigrating to the Promised Land. In July 1953, we landed at LaGuardia Airport in New York City. We had a connection in Chicago and, that same day, boarded a bus for a very long ride to Chicago. My father had to repeat his internship. When he finished, he got a job at one of the country’s largest Insane Asylums, Peoria State Hospital, in Peoria, Illinois. He worked there for the next ten years, and I grew up there, went to grade school, then high school, and Bradley University. On May 1, 1961, I became a U.S. citizen. My high school civics class made me their project for the year.
From there, it was Medical School, an internship at the largest Hospital in the country, LA County USC Medical Center, two residencies, one in General Practice in Ventura, and then the next in General Surgery, graduating from the Santa Barbara Surgical Residency program. Fifty-four years of a rewarding practice of somewhere around 11,000 surgical cases. Now that I can’t ski, I’m focused on my other hobbies of writing, farming, sculpting, and enjoying life. To all those who think the US is in decline, I say you are toxic, disruptive, and harmful to this country. By all means, you should go to Somalia, Ireland, England, or anywhere else where you think it is better. I frankly chose to stay here! I wish you Godspeed! And hope you find happiness.