Message received from HGTV

Message: I was the producer of Designers'
Challenge. It was such an honor to
have your dad on the show. I am so
glad that we got to show the viewers
what an artist he was. I am so sorry for
your loss.

Sincerely,

Stacy Schneider

We'll all lose weight in 2008?

Things will be great,
We'll all lose weight,
We'll celebrate,
and masticate, pontificate, and contemplate,
anticipate...
Two thousand eight!

My friend Sara says you're cute

You know, Dear Grandpa, I was looking at some photographs yesterday at work. And my friend Sara and I were getting ready to go to the basketball game (we won) and when she saw your photos she said you're cute. You're the type she would have a crush on, she said. I thought that was very interesting. It made me smile.

Tonight, I am thinking about the time you gave me some advice, in the romance department. I have never forgotten it.

And I am also thinking about how, even though you're gone, you're not gone, because I can always talk to you in my mind. I can tell you how Sara thought you're cute, and I can hear your laugh, and I can hear you telling me exactly what it is that draws people together, and suddenly...

Suddenly all my fears and concerns about myself and my love life can disappear, in light of what you taught me.

Thank you.

A Wonderful Dream

Last night I dreamt that Dad was alive. It was so great to see him again, full of spirit and laughter. He said he had lots to do and got up off the bed and began to live life again. It was bittersweet waking up and realizing he really is gone. But in my mind, I'll always see him waking up and starting his day. A few days before he died I was able to have a nice talk with Dad. I told him that he had always been a wonderful father to me and to us all. I let him know that he always gave his children love and affection and a great legacy of giving to others. After I told him this he said, "Well, schlunk, that being said, I think I'll take a nap". Sweet dreams, Dad. illie

Your Self-Sufficiency

Dear Grandpa, I never realized how self-sufficient and self-reliant you were. How little of your life you spent working for someone else. How mostly you were your own boss, built your own reputation, gained clients by word of mouth, by your own talents. Kept your own schedule, lived on your own terms, never wanted someone else taking care of you or telling you what to do.

Amazing, in this world where there are so few young people who know how to step up and take responsibility for their own lives, and so many of us live with our parents (guilty) into our 20s, or in some way depend on them. Even those of us who don't, don't have a clue what to do with ourselves half the time. It's hard to figure out how to embrace life, step up to the plate, with all its challenges, and take charge and say "I am in charge of my life." Which is exactly what you did.

"Downtown Dad" from Bert

Today I had to go to the downtown courthouse in Los Angeles, and I
thought again about Dad.  It is almost inconceivable to me to think of the city
without him in it.  As I walked up Spring Street, which is where he first
worked in this country in 1961, as a draftsman in the architectural firm of Smith,
Powell & Morgridge, I thought about how he would miss seeing the new projected
expansion of First Street towards City Hall in the east, where
all kinds of brand new buildings are going up.  The old State Building on
Hill and First is a gaping hole.  Of course this was not his particular
neck of the woods.  He avoided the courts and government buildings, and
thrived in the west side of the city.  He knew it so well.  Every nook and
cranny, every bar and art gallery, every restaurant and hide-away of the
old city of Los Angeles, he knew. Hill and Ord was his favorite
intersection in the government side, for here used to be the great
restaurant 'Costa's Grill' where he went practically every day for lunch
and drinks and dinner.  I had many fun lunches with him there.  The owner,
Al Mosca, loved Dad because of his love of Italian Opera, and allowed Dad
to pick his own cuts of meat for grilling.  This was in the sixties and
seventies.  He was truly sad when Mosca sold out to a cheesy 'Velvet
Turtle,' the ruins of which are still there in the undeveloped corner. But
after Costa's closed, he discovered Cook's Steak House, on the west side,
and he loved that place very much as well.  He was always there, and
everybody knew him.  Tout le Monde, of L.A.!  On the west side were also
his professional triumphs:  the offices at Boyd Jeffries & Co., a
photograph of which Felicia published on the net today, were in the Union
Bank building at Figueroa and Fifth.  He also did the offices for the
Sullivan Insurance Group and for Hotchkiss & Wiley (now part of Lloyd's of
London).  Then he chaired the interior design department at FIDM, through
the eighties and nineties, and that was at 7th. and Figueroa, a choice spot
for Art Deco buildings.  He would take his classes on a tour of downtown,
showing them the detail of the arches and gavettes, the Art Deco and
Jugendstil style of the old L.A. office buildings, famous now. Yesterday,
in my thoughts, he was "German."  Today he's "downtown Dad."  After I was
through in court, I went up to the roof of the courthouse to look at the
views of the city and beyond.  The courthouse is on Hill and First, across
from the gaping hole left by the State Building.  From up there you see all
of L.A., brown and misty towards the east and south, and bright and blue,
at least today, towards the west and north.  I looked towards Santa Monica,
I looked towards the Valley, and I felt keenly the absence left by Dad in
my home town, the place where we settled as immigrants in the USA.  His is
a whole history in the city, and of the city.  Looking down at it, the
Music Center, the Disney Hall, and beyond to the west, I couldn't help but
smile at Dad's downtown life, so many years that he loved so much.

Please add your comments here.

For those who don't want to be added as blog authors. We will come back to this post to watch comments.

Grandpa's voice

Thanks to Jerry Palsson for contributing this.
DivShare File - German_Sonntag.wav

So glad to see the blog growing.

It moves me very much to read what others say. I'm sure you all feel this way too when you read through it. Please, let's everyone contribute. I will invite more of you to be authors, but if you don't want to be an author you can also click on "comments" (whether it says 0 or 1 doesn't matter) and add your thoughts there. Comments can be contributed by anyone and read by anyone.

"German" by Bert

As the Christmas season approaches, and it is in the air, I'm thinking
about how German Dad was. His childhood was totally German, as his father
was an immigrant. Every Christmas, the old Kindlichkeit of the Germans
would surround Dad in that mythical house in Jose Paz he always spoke
about. Of course, that part of his Germanity he always took very lightly.
Like Onkle Christian in Thomas Mann's "Buddenbrooks," he laughed at the
Christmas carols as something for old ladies and awed little kids. But his
Germanity went far beyond this. He had his Goethe and his Schiller always
around, though I wonder whether he ever read one of those plays all the way
through. He loved Wagner, and what is more German than that? He loved the
castles on the Rhine, where his mother's family was from: St. Goarshausen
am Rhein. He loved the serious music of the Germans, beyond Wagner, in
Bach and Beethoven, Bruckner, not to mention that 'great German
philosopher, Johann Strauss' who composed his favorite 'Fledermaus.' He
always dropped German phrases. He had German gestures, like the pouf! the
Germans blow through their cheeks when they're not quite convinced of
something. When you pointed at someone and said 'look! it's so and so!' he
would say 'Oh yeah? "Prosit Neujahr!" At one time, he ate like a Saxon.
In Buenos Aires, people in the family would always recount stories about
his appetite, about how he ordered a whole 'parrillada' just for himself.
That's Saxon. But he laughed at the Saxons, particularly the jokes about
the last King of Saxony, August der Starke, who was reputedly always drunk.
I am amazed, as I think back, about how German Dad was. I think I always
overlooked this for some reason.
Just thought I'd share some thoughts.
Berto
Albert R. Sonntag
berto55@earthlink.net

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy

I've been thinking about that a lot lately - the way he used to say "oh boy oh boy oh boy" when his head was about to hit the pillow for a siesta. :) I hope in some small way as he was headed for his final rest he was able to think "oh boy oh boy oh boy."

I think I (and some of his other grandchildren) inherited his love and appreciation of a great slumber. I just hope we don't all inherit his snoring - I remember being at the bottom of the stairs in the house on Melotte and being able to hear him (sleeping) upstairs, loud as a lawnmower. :)

He was a good man who lived life to the fullest and had a great appreciation for arts and culture; I hope to carry that on in his name.

Love, E.

Germanisms

Just for starters:

Schlunko, Schlunka, Schlunkudichen

"My dear Mr. (Ms) ____" (followed by his comment)

Dingsda

Thank you!

Felicia, thank you so much for starting this blog. How do we get the message to everyone so they can read and post messages?
You are right about Dad, he lived every day as if it might be the last. He was caring, thoughtful, and loving. He never said no to us, always trying to please his kids and give them what they needed to be happy. He wasn't always available when we were growing up, but when we needed something he always came through. I know he loved us all very much. I will miss him very much. In the last years when he visited me we had some great times together going to museums, lunch, even shopping for new pj's. It's a huge loss for us all. I'll write more later.
Thanks again for your great words. love, mom

Tribute video coming soon. Send scans.

I am putting together a tribute video made up of different scanned photos of German with his family and friends. Please send me scans that you have. I will add them to the video, or make more than one video. Then I will post it to this page for everyone. I think it will be a nice way to remember him.

Living in the moment.

German never took life too seriously. He lived in the moment. He lived his life fully, always having a good time, laughing, dancing, acting silly, not caring what people thought about him. This morning I am thinking that more of us need to live this way. We all take it all so seriously. We all need to lighten up, schlunkies.

I will never forget you.

Dear Grandpa, I'm writing this as if it were a letter, and I'm not sure why. It's just coming out that way. I want you to know that I will never forget you. Your 'surprised' look, when a joke was really funny to you. As if you hadn't expected to be caught off guard with such a good one! Your advice to me about what it is men love about women. I will never forget. Or the way you said my name. The time we went to breakfast together in Santa Cruz, just the two of us. You made me want to be an interior designer, too. But I don't have a talent for it, not at all! I just love to admire the work when it's done beautifully.

I feel like I know you better than you knew I did. That doesn't really make sense, but luckily, this is just a blog and it doesn't matter too much how well I'm writing. I can be as sentimental and sloppy as I want. I have been your granddaughter for a long time. I think that means something. When I look at some of your books, and read about colors and light, patterns and shapes, ornaments and design throughout history, I feel I am very close to you. When I watch the old video of you hamming it up, and then I see a smaller version of myself hamming it up right alongside you, I feel lucky to have known you.

There are so many memories.

I want to write so many things, but right now I can't. I'm guessing I'll be coming back here a lot.