Living with Plan B

Some time shortly before Christmas, when I was still feeling energetic and determined to finish everything before our visitors arrived, Paddy suggested one evening that we could watch Lord of the Rings together. By the time we got through part I and part II, I had actually finished all the ironing, but then we were a bit stymied, because our part III DVD was inexplicably missing. It really was very enjoyable watching the first two DVDs together with Paddy and without being sick, since Lord of the Rings is what I usually watch when I am curled up in a blanket drinking camomile tea and feeling miserable. It was much more pleasurable to recall together with Paddy what our first impressions were, the circumstances of seeing all three films together in the big cinema when they first came out.

Although I just managed to stave off the flu bug circulating in Linz throughout the brief, but emotionally intense visit from my family over Christmas, as soon as everyone was gone (including Christopher and Paddy, who flew back to London with the others a few days after Christmas), the bug defeated me. In the end, I was feeling too miserable to even dance a waltz with Peter at midnight on New Year’s Eve, our 23rd wedding anniversary, when Peter kindly stayed home to keep me company, instead of going out to enjoy music with his friends. He assured me that he didn’t mind, but warned me that if I asked him one more time, he might really start regretting it. I stopped asking and just felt comforted by his company.

Finding myself felled by the flu at the end of the holiday season, however, left me in something of a predicament. Since Paddy and I had so recently watched “The Fellowship of the Ring” and “The Two Towers”, it seemed too soon to watch them again, and “The Return of the King” was still inexplicably missing. Although I enjoyed the more recent version of Pride & Prejudice and yet another different film version of Wuthering Heights (my very favorite book when I was young), which I had received as Christmas presents, I still needed proper flu entertainment. In the end, I turned to Pirates of the Caribbean.

I owe my familiarity with Star Wars from the beginning to my younger siblings. I remember taking Amy and Pat to see the first Star Wars film, when it first came out. I think it must have been the summer when Pat was 9 and Amy was 10. When the lights came up after the end, Amy flopped impatiently in her seat, rolled her eyes, crossed her arms in disgust, and announced quite audibly, “Well, that was wasn’t very realistic!” It was perhaps not very wise to tell that story to the boys when they were little, and Christopher in particular was dying to see the new Star Wars, but I was resisting, because I thought he was still a bit too young. Unfortunately, both of my sons have always been better at math than me, so it didn’t take Christopher long to figure it out. When he started asking repeatedly, “And just how old were Amy and Pat, when you took them to see it?”, I lost that argument fairly quickly.

Similarly, I am indebted to my children for introducing me to a segment of popular culture that would otherwise have passed me by. So much of my work involves media theory and academic analyses of popular culture, and I have always felt that this gave me some valuable “weapons” in the battle with mass media and marketing over my children’s imaginations, but my children, in turn, gave me an opportunity to actually enjoy films I would otherwise never have seen, but only read about in analyses and discussions – if at all. Sometimes it even seemed helpful to find my sons intrigued by positive, sometimes slightly different fictional “role models”. At the time, for example, I felt quite grateful to the actor Orlando Bloom for proving in his portrayal of the elf “Legolas” that it is indeed possible to be extremely cool, even if you are tall and thin and pale and never get dirty in battle scenes. Johnny Depp’s performance of Captain Jack Sparrow was certainly surprising and especially enhanced a film I would never have expected to enjoy. As a feminist mother of two sons, I felt that this was the kind of pirate I could live with reasonably happily. Of course, I especially liked the lovely “damsel in distress”, who got tired of waiting to be rescued and took matters into her own hands. In retrospect, I think it might have been Pirates of the Caribbean that first sparked Paddy’s extensive interest in film-making as a whole. It certainly piqued his interest in Johnny Depp’s other films, leading to a much broader interest in other directors and genres – also in the Theremin after watching Ed Wood.

There are certainly more intellectual and critical pursuits, which I am always happy to promote in my household. Nevertheless, I’m happy that my children introduced me to such enjoyable silliness, before they grew up and became intellectual and critical themselves. Perhaps it is good to be reminded that popular culture is popular for a reason.

But now it is time to stop being ill and get back to work like the sensible intellectual that I am.

When I first met Peter, one of the things that most intrigued me about him was realizing that he hears differently, that he hears things most people don’t hear, are not aware of. Over twenty years later, I am still trying to understand his perception of the world, but it is still not always clear to me. It seems that Paddy, in particular, largely shares in that special perception of the world. I remember when Paddy was quite little, one day I found him going back and forth between the washing machine and the vacuum cleaner, putting his hands on first one, then the other, listening intently, humming oddly, back and forth, back and forth. At first I was mystified, but then I realized he was exploring the different sounds of their respective motors, and it made sense in the context of what I had learned about his father’s different perception of the world. Sometimes, when the two of them are engaged with music, I have the impression they at least partially inhabit a shared world that I can only access intellectually, circuitously, but never entirely.
As Christopher became more and more involved in hip hop, learning to understand music through sampling, listening carefully to the texts and writing his own, it gave me tremendous pleasure to be able to share with him the poetry that I have always loved, reading poetry with him in both English and German in between listening to his records, and seeing the expression on his beautiful face change as he “got it”. It seems there is something very moving and powerful in being able to share that kind of joy – like a joy in music or poetry – that cannot really be explained. More recently, I have had the tremendous privilege and pleasure of being able to share something else that matters deeply to me with someone else close to me, with my “other son”.
When I hurt my hand in the summer and had to start turning down work, Seth came to my assistance for an extra job. It didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to be reasonably intelligible English, and Seth said he thought he could do it. When he brought me his first draft of the first part of it – more quickly than I would have imagined possible – I was completely flabbergasted by how well he had turned the awkward bureaucratic phrasing of a project report into smoothly flowing English. I was impressed not only by his insightful questions about the content, but also his intelligent questions about formating and using the word processing program. When he asked about other online dictionaries, I hastily showed him where I had a collection that could be added to the Firefox search bar, and by the time I ran back through the room again, he had already set up a Delicious account for himself and added all the dictionaries and reference works to the search bar. What impressed me most, though, was when he told me about how he had been thinking about the similarities between German and English, but how differently it would work to translate the same ideas into Twi. And suddenly I had this wonderful feeling: he gets it.
Since then, Seth has been helping me with more translations. That means he is translating into his third language (English) from his forth language (German), which he has only been learning for the five years he has been in Austria. In fact, I think that because we always speak English at home, sometimes I forget how good his German is. Considering that he only started translating a few months ago, I am still amazed at what a great job he does. What gives me the greatest pleasure, though, is being able to share something so very important to me with someone close to me, who grasps – beyond the point of where it ceases to be explicable – how and why it is important. The other night, Seth and I went to see a film the others had already seen, and afterward we sat at the bar and talked about languages, how words and sentences and ideas are constructed in English and in German, and he explained to me a little bit about how that works in Twi. What a great pleasure it is to be able to have a conversation like that.

About two years ago, when I found myself in the unhappy position of having committed to a job that was really way over my head and more than I could possibly cope with by myself, Orlando introduced me (virtually) to his friend Laura, a professional translator who had stopped working full time to devote her attention to her two (meanwhile three) small children. I really need to thank Orlando again for that introduction. The first thing I learned from Laura (and subsequently from two of her former colleagues that she recommended for the project later) is what a huge difference professional training makes. Having learned to do it by myself over the years, mostly through trial and error, I was very impressed. What I also appreciate about Laura’s translations is how she can make the English sound so natural. I haven’t lived in an English-speaking country in over thirty years, and I think sometimes I tend to forget that English is not merely a vehicle for transporting ideas that sound much better in German. Since I have benefited from working with Laura, I was absolutely delighted to hear Seth talk about how impressed he was with Laura’s work on a huge document they have been translating alternately – again that wonderful sense of “he gets it”.
In the course of all this, we are now working together on transferring my “translation office” to the online office system OpenGoo with energetic support from Kerstin, who has courageously taken on the task of helping me organize the administration work. The first thing I realized in the course of this process is that in scheduling work, I seem to assume that I not only have superhuman powers, but I also have more than the conventional 24 hours of a day at my disposal to get the work done. I think I may be gradually beginning to understand why I have felt such tremendous pressure from work for so long. I realize it is demanding and unreasonable to ask Kerstin to keep reminding me that, in fact, I do not have superhuman powers, so I am all the more grateful to her for taking on this ridiculous task. Figuring out how to use OpenGoo together is again a matter of trial and error, but it seems to be working, so I hope I’m not the only one having a little fun with it.
Along with Seth, Laura and Kerstin, there is also Sophie, whose sympathy, understanding, encouragement and lovely sense of humor have become absolutely invaluable to me, since she jumped in and took over for me when I suddenly had to fly to Michigan last year. I have had a business license since 1991, and I have worked so hard since then to establish myself as a translator and be able to earn a living that way. After all that time, now, as my little world is changing around me, I am so very grateful to find that I am not alone, and I don’t have to do everything by myself, because there are things – important things, things that matter very much to me – that I can share with other people: people who “get it”.

It’s done. I have it in my hand now, and it’s a completely different feeling. Before the album was an abstract thing stuck on my hard drive, but now it’s in my hand staring at me. Ever since Friday, the day I got the CDs and my release party, I’ve been walking around with my rucksack taking my CDs along with me always. I am so incredibly relieved, and so glad about all the support I had from all the people around me, all the people that made music with me, be it for the album or just simply made music with me in the past, all the people who came to the release party and kept encouraging me and simply all who know and support me, in whatever form. Thank you. It’s just so incredibly freaky to have released an album, to have that as a reference point, to have seeped through all the music I made and boiled it down to 15 tracks and stuck to those long enough to see it through to make an album out of them. I was asked in interview not to long ago what I think my greatest achievement was and all I could say was that it’s finished, but I have to add that there is no way in hell that I would have been able to finish anything if it weren’t for the people who helped me. Right now I could really just write a long thank you note to so many people, and then I’d forget someone and have to edit this blog post another 15 times and get really pissed at myself, so instead all I will say is “thank you”, to everyone who helped in whatever way. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

It seems as though Christopher has been working on recording things forever. He has a whole little recording studio set up in the boys’ room, and recordings of his music actually exist, and I have heard them played even in public places and met other people who have heard them. There is also a nice little video of his performance last New Year’s Eve on Facebook and an older music video on YouTube (both by Paddy), but now it is all about to become real: Christopher will be celebrating the release of his first real CD on 6 November in Linz and on Friday the 13th (of November) in Vienna. This certainly calls for a celebration!

So what do I do now as Christopher’s mother? I love watching him on stage, and I’m not even going to try to pretend to be objective about how wonderfully talented I feel he is. I would love to be able to share that joy with everyone. Nevertheless, I really don’t want to embarrass him, and I certainly don’t want to become one of those pushy mothers who brag about their children. I don’t want to put friends into an awkward position of having to find something polite to say in response to my attempts to “promote” my son’s accomplishments.

Conversely, though, I keep remembering how much Christopher’s enthusiasm meant to me, when I received the first material copy of the book Art & Revolution. I had worked so long on translating that book, it was an almost overwhelming experience to be able to hold a printed copy of it in my hands for the first time. Christopher was the one who broke out the champagne and nearly brought tears to my eyes, when he begged me to let him have a copy to keep as his own. I have the feeling that now it is my turn, and I want Christopher to feel the same way I did.

Right. So without inhibitions: Everyone come and celebrate with us the release of the new CD Social Coma by Selbstlaut!

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Paddy received a letter last week. Not just any letter, but THE letter. The letter is from the Austrian Federal Ministry of Defense summoning him to inspection for military service.

Military service is obviously not an option for Paddy. In fact, some of his friends, who went to this inspection last year with Christopher (who was deemed “unfit”), suggested that the Austrian army might even decide very quickly that they just don’t want to deal with Paddy at all. Unfortunately, I don’t think we can count on that, so Paddy has been looking into various possibilities for “service to society” around the world. In places like India, China, Viet Nam, in New York working with homeless people with AIDS … Theoretically, all these possibilities sound like very useful and valuable things to do. Practically, however, this is my little guy!

I know, I know, I know: he is indeed a remarkably talented and capable young person. He has traveled to many places around the world and proven that he can cope even with very difficult situations. I have every faith in him that he will be able to make important and valuable contributions to society, but, but, but …

Paddy is still my little guy, and I’m afraid I am just not quite ready to face the idea of him going away for a whole year to India, China, Viet Nam or New York to work with homeless people with AIDS.

I clearly need to work on my new role as the mother of talented and capable young adults. I’m afraid I don’t quite know how to do this yet.

Amy and me at the airport in Linz

It has been about one year now, since I returned from a sudden trip to the US in response to my sister Amy’s death.

One year. A blur. A vague impression of something moving past me with brief moments of extreme clarity. I’m not sure I know what that means, a year. Sometimes I’m not sure I have any kind of a grasp now on conventional measures of time, even less than before.

Sometimes I am aware of changes. When I heard the tragic news a few months ago that a friend’s brother had been killed in a car accident, the sudden awareness of how painful raw, fresh mourning is literally took my breath away. My mourning for my sister is no longer that fresh, that raw. A wound as deep and painful as my beloved little sister’s self-chosen death never really heals. It leaves a deep and ugly scar in the soul, and as with all scars, sometimes it hurts, a throbbing, inescapable pain, depending on an unexpected touch, a change in the atmosphere. But that kind of pain is different from acute hemorrhaging. It is a pain one learns to live with. Sometimes it just takes rest or something soothing like tea or an herbal salve or a friend’s kindness and understanding, but it’s not an acute emergency. That’s what a year feels like now.

Does that mean I have learned to live with Amy’s death, “accepted” it? Does it feel real now? No. Will it ever? I have no idea.

I still have photos of Amy, emails she sent me over the years, memories from over forty years, from the day she was born to the day I stood there gently stroking her lifeless arm in the funeral home, helplessly promising her that everything would be okay. I still have her phone numbers in my phone, her mailing address in my Palm, and her email address in my mail program. I still keep waiting to hear from her. I still keep finding things I want to send her, thinking of things I want to talk about with her. Where is she? Why can’t I sense her presence? And how many more years will it take until I can think about her without crying?

For a year now, I have been wearing a pair of Amy’s shoes. As different as we were in most respects, as adults we always had exactly the same feet and could happily wear one another’s shoes. Amy’s shoes that I’m wearing now are the most comfortable shoes I have ever had, I never want any others. I’m afraid that American shoes are not made for the way I walk, though, and I’m beginning to worry about them wearing out. How can I make Amy’s shoes last forever? I have other things of hers that I like to wear too. Some earrings and necklaces, a few sweaters, her watch, although it is still quite loose on my wrist, even though I had it made smaller for me. Somehow it feels comforting to wear things that belonged to her, that she wore – even the glass beads that were around her neck the last time I saw her in the funeral home.

Now I am over 50, my children are essentially grown, it’s time for me to move on to a new phase of my life as an old woman. But now I haven’t got a plan. Not even an image in my mind. As I explained to Christopher recently, I had always imagined that Amy and I would be a pair of crazy old ladies together and that it would be fun. How can I be a crazy old lady by myself? Christopher suggested that if I need someone to be a crazy old lady with, Sara would probably be a good choice. That surprised me, but he might be right. I think I can picture Sara and me being crazy old ladies together and driving our children mad. That could be fun.

But then Christopher suggested another alternative. He told me how pleased he was to hear from some of his friends about how much they have enjoyed conversations with me. He suggested I could be a knowledgeable old woman that people like to visit, to talk with, to learn from and borrow books from. Would that work?

And once again I find myself wondering how my children grew up to become such wise and compassionate young men. I want to write an email to Amy and tell her about the conversation …

At some point, when I realized that I was likely to be home alone for most of July, I started imagining things I might enjoy doing with time and space all to myself. As it turned out, sadly none of those things happened.

First of all, I had trouble keeping up with work during the last few weeks of June, between the End of School and preparations for the boys trips. By the time they were gone, everything was late and pressure was mounting. On top of that, I was getting worried about the state of my finances and urgently needed to write bills. I had the feeling I was also seriously losing track of too many other things that I was supposed to be responsible for as well.

I woke up one morning already feeling oppressed by my work load before I had even opened my eyes, so the day didn’t start well. Since it was one of the few days in July when it wasn’t raining, but unbearably hot instead, I decided to wear my favorite summer pants. When I put them on, though, they were quite clearly too wide for me now. I was annoyed, but decided to wear them anyway, thinking they would be comfortable. They weren’t. Walking to the office I had the very uncomfortable feeling that my pants might just fall off at any moment, ending up wound around my ankles in the middle of the Nibelungen Bridge. So I walked to work cursing myself for being an idiot and wondering how I might possibly make myself remember to eat when no one else is home, but without coming up with any feasible solutions. And missing Amy to laugh at me and tease me about being impractical on top of that.

Arriving at the iron gate at the bottom of the stairs up to my office, my foul mood was not improved by finding a large puddle in front of the gate, left over from the rain the day before. I didn’t want to further damage my favorite summer pants by dragging the drooping hems through this puddle, so I attempted to jump over it as I opened the iron gate. That was almost successful, except that my thumb got caught under the handle and didn’t come with me around the gate as I jumped over the puddle. Ouch.

That was basically the end of my plans for July. Although it was hardly a serious injury (except for the rather graphic picture, the Wikipedia entry for “Skier’s Thumb” basically seems to cover it), I ended up first with a rather dramatic bandage half way up to my elbow, then with a smaller hand cast, which not only kept my thumb immobilized, but also allowed me very little movement of my fingers. I can’t type with one hand. I can type fairly rapidly with ten fingers without looking at the keyboard, so that I can read two texts simultaneously and continuously formulate the next sentences, because my fingers know where the letters are. Typing with one hand means having to look for each letter on the keyboard, so that by the time I have found all the letters for one word, I have already forgotten how I meant to continue the sentence. Stretching my right hand across the whole keyboard also made that hand tired, so that I ended up with my whole right arm aching all the way up to the shoulder. And my left thumb still hurt.

Consequently, there was not much else I could do but to start saying no and to ask for help. These are not things I am good at. Fortunately for me, Sophie was very sympathetic and managed to keep her patience and her lovely sense of humor, so that we were able to finish the most urgent translations together. Another positive side effect was that I discovered that Seth is actually a brilliant translator. He showed up with a very impressive English version of a difficult bureaucratic text in German, asked some very intelligent questions, and immediately grasped my hurried explanation of tools that I use, which he quickly put to good use. Unfortunately, the translation he took over is badly paid, so I still need to find a way to make it up to him.

On the whole, I suspect that this accident – perhaps like most accidents? – was not really entirely a coincidence. I obviously needed to stop and take stock of what I was doing, so somehow it seems that my subconscious and my body conspired together to defeat my willpower. I could just as easily have slipped and twisted an ankle, for example, which would not really have been in the way of working. I didn’t, though. I hurt my hand. Although it is a bit embarrassing to admit, I’m afraid that, over the years, Peter has actually had to take me to the emergency room at the hospital more often than either of the boys. There seems to be something about the “sudden stop” feeling of a hospital emergency room that compels reflection on what has led to that specific moment. Somehow I need to figure out now what I need to change.

In the meantime, Paddy and Christopher obviously had a much better time than I did in July in the US and Ireland respectively. I have tremendously enjoyed listening to them talk about it, so now I hope they will each write a blog post of their own as well.

[This is a letter that Peter wrote to a consumer help program on the radio explaining the absurd story of why Christopher was fined for not having a valid ticket on the tram and why we think this is not reasonable.]

Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren!

Seit meiner Jugend lausche ich der Sendung “Help” und bisher war ich in gluecklichen Lage, Ihnen nie etwas mitteilen zu muessen, was ich als besonders ungerecht bzw. aergerlich empfunden habe.

Dies hat sich leider geaendert und ich moechte Sie auf einen besonders absurden Misstand bei den Linz Linien hinweisen (die uebrigens damit werben: “Immer bestens bedient”; halten Sie sich das im Hinterkopf, wenn Sie das Folgende lesen).

Meine beiden Soehne hatten heuer das Vergnuegen Ihren Schulabschluss in Form der Matura und des Internationalen Baccelaureats zu absolvieren. Beides im “Linz International School Auhof” Johannes Kepler Gymnasium. Den Schulweg legten sie so wie schon seit Jahren  mit den oeffentlichen Verkehrsmitteln zurueck, da wir selbst auch vehemente Befuerworter des oeffentlichen Verkehrs sind. Neben dem Schuelerfreifahrtausweis haben sie auch eine Aufpreiskarte genutzt, die sie berechtigte alle Linien (nicht nur den Schulweg) zu benuetzen.

Nun endet die “offizielle” Schule fuer Besucher der Maturaklassen am 8.5.09. Das heisst nicht, dass die Schueler nicht noch  zu den Pruefungen und den Vorbereitungsstunden weiterhin zur Schule fahren muessen. Es heisst jedoch, dass der Schuelerfreifahrtsausweis nicht mehr gueltig erscheint.

Mein Sohn fragte bei der ersten Kontrolle (in Linz sind die Kontrollen privatisiert; die Fa. Securitas fuehrt im Auftrag der LinzLinien die Kontrollen durch.) ob sein laut Datum abgelaufener Ausweis in Zusammenhang mit seiner Aufpreiskarte noch gueltig sei. Bei der ersten Kontrolle wurde ihm das bestaetigt. Eine weitere Kontrolle auf dem Schulweg ca. eine Woche spaeter fuehrte dazu, dass er auf seine Frage zwar die Antwort bekam, man wisse nicht ob der Ausweis jetzt eigentlich gueltig sei, aber quasiprophylaktisch wurde ihm ein Zahlschein mit dem “Erhoehten  Fahrpreis” ueber EURO 50.– und die Aufforderung zur Klaerung in der Zentrale zu erscheinen mitgegeben. Dort wusste man leider auch nicht weiter, und nach Anfrage bei den LinzLinien (Immer bestens bedient!) wurde man von einer Person zur naechsten weitergereicht, bis endlich jemand sagen konnte, dass der Ausweis nicht mehr gueltig sei.

Allerdings gaebe es folgendes zu bedenken. Zitat des Kundenbetreuers:
“Nach Ablauf der Gültigkeit von Maturanten-Freifahrtsausweisen gelten diese bei den LINZ AG LINIEN bis zum Ende der Sommerferien als Schüler- Ermäßigungsausweis. Dies bedeutet, dass Ihr Sohn in diesem Zeitraum die Möglichkeit hat, einen Einzelfahrschein zum ermäßigten Tarif zu benützen (MINI = Langstrecke, MIDI = Tageskarte, Linz09 24-Stunden-Karte ermäßigt). Weiters kann Ihr Sohn die Schüler/Lerlinge-Aufzahlungskarte an Schultagen (Montag- Samstag) ab 12:00h und an Sonn- und Feiertagen, gesetzlich schulfreien Tagen, sowie in den Sommerferien ganztägig verwenden.” Ende des Zitats

Was nichts anderes heisst, als dass man zwar am Nachmittag (nach 12) ins Freibad fahren kann, jedoch nicht am Vormittag zur Schule. Absurd oder nicht?

Man ist zwar “Immer bestens bedient” jedoch Zitat des Kundenbetreuers:
“Die Informationspflicht bei einem Selbstbedienungssystem liegt beim Kunden.”

Die Information zu diesem Fall gibt es allerdings nirgends zu finden. Auch ein Nachfragen beim Schuldirektor ergab, dass nicht so wie im Email des Kundenbetreuers behauptet, die Schule darueber informiert ist (laut Auskunft des Direktors genuegte bisher eine Schulbesuchsbestaetigung).

Der ganze Spass kostete neben der Zeit, die meiner Ansicht nach berechtigten Beschwerden zu fuehren, bisher EURO 66,70 und selbst auf dem Zahlschein, der diese Summe einfordert wurde nicht beruecksichtigt, dass der abgelaufenen Ausweis zur ermaessigten Fahrt berechtigt. Nein, es wurde zusaetzlich zur Strafe noch der “normale Fahrpreis” in Rechnung gestellt. Selbst die eigenen Mitarbeiter sind nicht ueber diese Regelung informiert, und dennoch wird sie einem Schueler auf dem Weg zur Matura nicht nur vorgeworfen sondern in Rechnung gestellt.

Ein Schreiben an den Linzer Buergermeister, in seiner Funktion als Aufsichtsratsvorsitzender der LinzLinien hat bisher nur Schweigen (nicht einmal eine Anerkennung des Empfangs des Emails) gebracht. Auch hier fuehle ich mich immer bestens bedient.

Ich wuerde mich freuen, wenn Sie mich in meinem Anliegen unterstuetzen koennten , einerseits eine klare Regelung zu initiieren, bzw. zu fordern (die im Antwortmail angefuehrte Regelung ist eine Farce, die mein zweiter Sohn dann durchgespielt hat, und ein Riesenaufwand fuer Schule, Schueler und Linzlinien ist, das waere ein zweite Story!) und andererseits
mir die schon bezahlten EURO 66,70 wieder zurueckzubekommen. Ich habe diese Forderung nur bezahlt um meinen schon grossjaehrigen Sohn unnoetigen Aerger zu ersparen, bin aber nicht gewillt darauf zu verzichten.

Als nette Anmerkung ist vielleicht zu erwaehnen, dass sich eine Kollegin meines Sohnes beim Ausfuellen des Formulars geirrt hatte, und anstatt 8.5.09 5.8.09 geschrieben hatte. Sie hat einen Ausweis bekommen, der ihr trotz all dem oben genannten eine Freifahrt bis zum 5. August beschert!

Mit freundlichen Gruessen

Peter Huetmannsberger