Memories of a Summer in Hochstrass
It was January of 1961 and a few of us teachers were eating our lunch in the cramped little closet by the school cafeteria. Sister Fidelis our Provincial came in and said that she wanted to see me after I finished my lunch. The five string beans on my plate turned to stone. I said that my lunch was finisned because I could no longer swallow. She looked around and decided it really wasn’t confidential and told me that they had many American children in the nursery in Frankfurt, Germany and wanted an American sister. Since I already knew German she would give me the first chance but I was not obliged. I responded immediately that I would go. When she said I could take my time to think about it I said that I had been thinking about it since I was on the Holy Year trip with my Father the year before. At the Eucharistic Congress in Munich, after spending a week with some Brazilian Sisters and meeting the Sisters in Edling, I made up my mind to grasp any opportunity to live the FDC life internationally.
On May 7, the day of the German Surrender in World War II and after Sputnik and the meeting of President Kennedy with Krucschev in Vienna, I landed in Frankfurt. I was twenty-five years old and everyone I met in that community was “very old”. In spite of the warm greeting, I cried the entire night. “What had I done. I left behind everything familiar and every one I depended on”. The parish church bells woke me as did the superior, Sister Inviolata Eibel. “I am so sorry that I have to wake you, but it is Sunday, I am sure you want to go to Mass.”
I got used to the routine of the house, which in those days was very similar to that of Arrochar, Staten Island. I was given a group of four-year-olds, mixed German and American children. I learned German songs and how to tell American parents what “gookamal” and “stuehlehoch” means.
One day, at lunch which was dinner, I announced that I would have to make my final vows. Normally I should have presented that fact in a humble request, but it was accepted. The superior immediately made plans to send me to Vienna for the “preparation”.
I was put on a train that necessitated a change of trains in Salzburg, but I made the transition successfully. I went to the Mother House. I had been there the year before with my father, but now I belonged. The sisters were wonderful and I met my companions for the “preparation” who told me that we would be going to a wonderful place called Hochstrass because one of our group, Sister Helene., was a teacher there and could not get away because the school term was still on. Later I learned of my good fortune. The “preparation” was usually spent in Vienna where the tasks consisted of scrubbing out huge cooking pots in the kitchen. In Hochstrass we served on little wooden stools in the sunshine, picking chamomile blossoms to be used as buckets of tea for sick cows.
Soon Sister Elenara our “mistress” and the postulants who were also in her charge took a train into “lower Austria” the low mountains and great fresh air. When we got to St. Polten, a horse wagon picked us up. This was just great, we were not only going far but also back into time.
The three of us were given a room that overlooked the chapel wing and the beautiful mountains. Each night we slept with the large window opened to air as fresh as my lungs had ever breathed. One night we discovered the stars and went outside on a hill to lie in the grass and see creation as its Lord had intended. The milky way was a blanket that seemed to come down and cover us.
Hochstrass, the Convent of our Sorrowful Mother, was an agricultural school for girls and a working farm. We went across the dirt road to the cheese house where Sister Elenara slept with the postulants and there we had our daily spiritual readings. This always ended with huge slices of the bread baked on site with the fresh cottage cheese and huge glasses of real buttermilk. Sister Amabilis confessed that she expected me to be dark and from South Brazil, for there had not been anyone from North America in living memory. Sister Mathea was from Breitenfurt, and with Sister Helena that was our group. Amabilis had a charming Viennese accent and undertook to help me pronounce the vow formula in German.
Each day we left the cheese house and went into the fields to pick our blossoms. There we met Sister Karola who told us about the farm. Later she rewarded us with fresh garlic for our cottage cheese bread. It was delicious but I was not familiar with the consquences. We had confessions once and I wonder about the priest… I know he came back because he treasured his weekly reward of Hochstrass bread. One time she asked us to help carry huge baskets of cherries. She had a wonderful solution if we found the basket too heavy. “Sit down and eat a few.”
At another time she introduced us to the donuts and hard apple cider which was the customary snack for field workers. She took us to a barn where there were barrels from “1947, 48, 49 etc.” and we had to sample each one. Strange, but prayers that evening provoked a lot of giggles so that Sister Elenara whispered that we should finish the Office prayers outside.
One day they awakened us even earlier… maybe four or even before. A Sister had had a heart attack and we would be saying office for her that morning. Sister was laid out in one of the rooms, lovingly prepared at home by her sisters. The house carpenter made a simple casket that was lined with paper doily made for the purpose. The funeral was held on a beautiful summer day. The school students were in their Sunday uniform, the Sisters in their best habit all forming a procession behind the beautifully decorated with wreaths of white flowers and evergreens oxcart. The oxen were used because it was sister’s duty to care for them. Slowly, prayerfully, we walked up the narrow road to the Sisters’ cemetery high on a hill where she was laid to rest with her community. There followed a repast that included real coffee and homemade cake. I forgot Sister’s name, but not the circumstances and I felt very close to Mother Franziska who had still planned this place before she died.
There was also an exhibition of the students’ work and I saw some of the finest handicrafts of another time. Each girl made for herself an authentic “dirndle” with the patented school patterns. She also had a complete layette of children’s clothes and household linens to take into her future life.
The happy days came to an end as all things must, but the blessing they bring to our hearts can remain forever if we keep them in grateful prayer. Since Hochstrass I have not been afraid to go and live anywhere. I realized what my Uncle Karl told me, “You will find good people everywhere.” He was right and the greatest blessing of my life is the maybe hundreds of Daughters of Divine Charity I have come to meet from all over the world. How grateful I am to have been exposed to the living charism and to the graces of that summer in Hochstrass.
