TBT - Me? A Princess?

When I was 4, the Army assigned my Dad to work in the German spa town of Bad Kissingen, in Bavaria.  Gotta hate having to live in a place like this...

Aerial view of Bad Kissingen.
Man, I wish I could remember more about living in Europe.

Most searches for "Bad Kissingen" came up with photographs of this building:
The Arcades.  It is one of the oldest, or perhaps the oldest, spa buildings, built in the 1830s.

Dad was the leader of all of the American soldiers stationed in the city and stayed very busy, having to do many difficult jobs that a mayor would do: attend balls and concerts, eat fancy dinners with important people, and generally be a happy face at local official functions.

My Dad and I saw this famous group, Jugend Musik Korps,
perform multiple times.

One of the gifts my dad received when he was leaving was this mug, depicting the group.
The top of the mug is inscribed with Dad's name and the dates he served in BK.

My mom was, of course, invited to accompany Dad to all of these functions, but she had enough other things going on, starting with a young family of four children and a full-time job.  Plus, Mom didn’t speak any German.  This was a major drawback, since she would have had to spend time with the local German officials and would mostly end up feeling left out. 

My older siblings and me with our nanny.
I'm not sure if this is the nanny who tried to make
my brother eat raw bacon, mistaking it for lunchmeat.

Dad hated to attend these events alone, so I decided to help him out.  I was young, but because I attended a German preschool, I spoke German very well.  I even had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a dirndl.  What more could you ask for, when trying to fit in with the locals?

 

I soon became my father’s go-to date.  It helped that The Lord Mayor (a round, bombastic man) and his wife, especially, doted on me.  When The Lord Mayor saw me at a dinner he would immediately begin talking to me, in German, of course, laughing loudly and smiling broadly.  He would walk me around the room, introducing me to other men and women, who then doted on me.  I would smile, wave, make small talk, and in general be as Shirley Templeish as you can imagine.  “Where did you get her?” friends would ask, certain that I was an actual German girl, adopted by an American family.   I truly seemed to be an Aryan princess.

Another beautiful shot of Bad Kissingen.

And one day, I actually felt like a princess.  I had gotten used to my “duties” as Dad’s date and it didn’t phase me to be in front of crowds, in front of cameras, or talking to important people.  I actually enjoyed it.  But during the Rakoczy Festival, I did it all.  

Old town hall and market square, all done up for the festival.

The Rakoczy Festival is an annual event named for a Hungarian freedom fighter.  It is been held at the end of July and lasts for 3 days, celebrating the city's history and featuring many musical performances.

These people are dressed up as historical figures who were guests at the spas in BK.

The highlight of the weekend for me was the festival’s parade, which ran all through the town, with a soundtrack of German music combined with loud cheers from the crowds.  Dad and I watched the parade from a balcony, alongside The Lord Mayor and his wife.  I'm sure I couldn’t stop smiling as I waved at the crowds below and enjoyed the best seat around.  I watched the streamers swirl, the dancers dance, and the musicians march.

This would have been my view of the parade.

They would be looking at me.  And my dad.  And the other important folks on the balcony.

It is a day I still remember.  The day I felt like a princess.

NOTE: I first started trying to get this story down a couple of years ago.  At the time, I emailed with my parents back and forth, asking for their memories of the 14 months we were in BK and getting input on my retelling.  My mom's suggestions are mostly included already, but I wasn't sure how to use these words of my dad's - 

"Certainly the Jugend Musik Korps were part of the concert and the march at the Rokoczy Fest (where you were the guest of honor on the rooftop).  Good memory."

"As for stories – just emphasize that everywhere you went, people bowed down :-)"

And, no, I don't speak German anymore.  But that's okay, because I'm no longer blonde either.