28 Feb March 2025 at Experienced Goods

by Jennie Reichman

I think I’ve mentioned in this space that my mother was a young German woman during World War II. She endured bombings, displacement, walked and hitchhiked to Czechoslovakia from Berlin, scavenged for food and experienced many other hardships. She met my dad, an American officer in the Army Air Corps, after the war ended and the Americans occupied parts of Germany; she was working as a bartender in a German manor house that had been converted to a restaurant and club for American soldiers. The story goes that my dad was sitting by himself in the restaurant while the other soldiers and local girls danced to a band in an adjacent room; my mom asked him why he wasn’t whooping it up with his compatriots and then noticed he was wearing a gold ring on his right hand, which, in Germany at the time, indicated marriage. She must have commended him for his faithfulness to his wife, because he was quick to explain that the ring was a gift from his father, given as a good luck piece before my dad left to fight in the war. So the conversation started, and so their hearts were sparked. When they married, she asked for that ring to be her wedding band; I still have it, worn thin and cracked after 60 years on her finger.

My dad was a pilot, and I have photos of him sitting in the cockpit of his plane wearing aviator sunglasses and a battered leather jacket, photos of him at a table with his fellow soldiers, one of him in his dress uniform flanked by his sisters and parents before he shipped out. There are no captions or labels, only images of a handsome young man, quiet, reserved, but always smiling a shy smile. I look at those pictures and think, “I wish I had taken the time to know you better, I wish I had asked you about your war experiences. I wish I had heard, in your words, the stories of what war did to shape and alter your life.” He died of cancer when I was 22, just when I was beginning to become enough of an adult to see my parents as fallible, hopeful, resourceful people who had builta good life on the other side of war in spite of the damage it did to them.

I write about all of this because Joan, the masterful artist behind our always intriguing window displays, has constructed an exhibition of memorabilia from the WWII experiences of a staff member’s relative. There’s a beautifully preserved uniform, a purple heart medal, photo albums filled with snapshots and detailed hand written descriptions and commentary about people, places and events, and many other precious items the family kept in memory of their loved one who served during that conflict. Obviously none of the items on display are for sale; they are the property of the staff member’s family. But the display honors all those who have served, past, present and future, in times of war and times of peace. It triggered memories of my dad and inspired me to pore over the photos I have of him, as a young man and throughout his life, and to see in that young man the husband and father he would become. Every day since the display was installed, at least one or two customers or donors have shared stories of their own parents or grandparents who were in WWII, or of friends and loved ones who have served in other conflicts or capacities. Take a moment to appreciate the beauty of this installment the next time you are in Experienced Goods; it’s a reminder that history was once lived experience, that it irrevocably changed the people who lived it and continues to transform us today.