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Caleb Gerhardt Blog Entry |
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August 9, 2024, 12:00:10 AM 8/9/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's characters from my anthro WWII storyline are Caleb, Hermann, and Abigail Gerhardt, younger brother, father, and mother of Stephen Gerhardt. This is the entire Gerhardt family; Hermann is a German immigrant while Abigail is American and there's a lot of complexity to their (and the brothers') relationship. These three are deceased by the time of the main story. There'll be more about them later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se. Regarding their design, Abigail and Caleb are red and black German shepherds, while Hermann is tan/fawn and black; Stephen takes after him. TUMBLR EDIT: See STEPHEN GERHARDT'S ENTRY for the genesis of this storyline. You'll see there have since been significant changes, though the broad underlying details are the same. Gerhardt's family situation vaguely mirrors Adelina Dobermann's in some ways, mainly in that both are the children of a German father and a Jewish mother, and both of them struggle to deal with their sense of "otherness"--Adelina in taking after her "deceased" Jewish mother while living with her German father, Gerhardt in taking after his deceased German father while living with his Jewish mother and brother. I'll include the entire family in this summary, but will truncate this in following entries. This plotline is still HIGHLY in development, so is subject to change yet again, and some details may yet be lacking. Abigail (maiden name undetermined) is a single Jewish woman living in the city (probably New York) around the turn of the century. She occasionally deals with the all-too-common antisemitism so it's no surprise when one day a few youths accost her while she's out, tossing slurs and making threatening gestures; she yells at them to leave her alone, more annoyed than afraid, though she grows worried the longer the taunts go on and there are no policemen or anything nearby to defuse the situation. One of the youths lashes out and makes her drop and spill her groceries; their growing antagonism starts to make her fearful, when sudden yelling startles her. The youths turn and scatter when an older man comes jogging after them, shaking his fist and shouting in another language. When they're gone he returns to Abigail and in stilted English, with a heavy accent, offers to help collect her spilled goods. The two retrieve her items and she thanks the stranger for his help; "Gern geschehen," he says, then, noticing her confusion, adds, "Bitte schön...ahm...you're...welcome?" He introduces himself as Hermann Gerhardt; he's from Germany, but obtained American citizenship a year or so previously. He understands English, but doesn't speak it so well, although he's been practicing. Abigail introduces herself, and reassures him that he's doing fine. He expresses concern about the episode he just witnessed and asks if it happens frequently; she brushes it off somewhat, admitting that it's not uncommon but nothing too bad. Hermann explains that when he'd first come to the US, he'd assumed behavior like this was rare--"America is...what...der Schmelztiegel...the 'melting pot,' ja?"--yet he's seen quite a bit of anti-foreigner sentiment, including even some aimed at himself. He hasn't been harassed the way she just was, though; "Ahm...do not mean to say you are like me," he apologizes, and by that she can tell he means an immigrant, "I assume they give you troubles for this...?" and he gestures; she notices that he's indicating her necklace, a Star of David. "The slurs they say," he adds, "I hear, some bad words are the same everywhere." Abigail feels compelled to downplay the incident--she's used to it, others have gotten worse--yet Hermann seems disappointed that she should be harassed so. He's the first person outside synagogue who she's had a decent conversation with in a long while, and has such a sweet, endearing personality, that when he offers to walk her to and from the market to keep away any harassers--he works a desk job in a building nearby--she politely declines, yet says she wouldn't mind them just walking together to talk: "I could help you with your English, if you'd like." Hermann's face lights up and she can tell he had the same hope she had; he agrees, and they part ways after making plans to meet the next day. Abigail and Hermann get to know each other as they walk together each day, chatting amiably. They're both quite different--he tall, fair, and Gentile, she shorter, dark, and Jewish--yet they share the same feeling of not quite fitting into their surroundings, not quite being accepted. Hermann is accepted for his appearance, yet the moment he speaks, he draws suspicious looks. Abigail is accepted by her community, yet the moment she steps outside it, she draws suspicious looks. They connect over this feeling of otherness, and as time goes on the expected happens: While they're sitting in the park talking and joking about their respective extended families one day, Abigail makes an offhand comment that she's sure the two of them would never have to deal with such nonsense; the smile drops from Hermann's face and he blinks at her and says, "You...are you saying, you think we should be family...?" Abigail flushes bright red when she realizes what she insinuated; she tries to backpedal, yet they both attempt to clarify their words, only to come to the same conclusion that they've fallen in love with each other. Things now get complicated. Hermann is nominally Christian. He still carries the little silver cross he brought with him from his homeland; he no longer attends church, he tells Abigail, though he still believes, he says simply that he has his own personal way of honoring God. Given that he left behind just about everything he had to come to America for new opportunities, it's important to hold on to the few things he has left, and his faith is one of them. Abigail, meanwhile, is a lifelong observant Jew, regularly attends synagogue, follows the customs, has never had any reason to question things; although her connection to God feels rather superficial, especially lately, her faith and her community bring her comfort. When they realize they want to spend their lives together, they go to speak to Abigail's rabbi for advice, as Hermann has no church. The rabbi is friendly enough, welcomes Hermann, yet as soon as it becomes clear why they're there, his smile fades. "You two plan to wed...?" he asks, as if to be sure; when they confirm it, the rabbi's discomfort grows. As gently as he can, he tells Abigail that this presents a problem, that he doesn't believe he'll be able to help them. Perplexed, Abigail asks why not. Hermann murmurs, "I believe he says they do not allow our marriage." "Not allow--?" Abigail echoes; in response Hermann gestures from himself to her, saying, "Christian and Jew...this is what you are saying, ja?" And the rabbi confirms it, that they don't recognize interfaith marriages. Abigail is struck dumb. She'd thought that perhaps they might need to make certain concessions--maybe Hermann would be required to wear a kippah or something while accompanying her to synagogue, she would have to cover her hair or refrain from any Christian rituals should he return to church, things like that--but she'd had no idea that their marriage would simply not be allowed. Hers isn't even an Orthodox synagogue, they're rather forward looking. Yet this is how it is. The rabbi can't marry them, and even if they get wed someplace else, the congregation won't recognize it; she's likely to face disapproval, if not outright ostracization. Seeing the numb look on Abigail's face, the rabbi suggests that they think it over a bit more; Abigail is ready to retort, when Hermann gently grasps her arm, saying, "We will do, danke, danke schön," urges her to her feet, and ushers her out. "Think it over--?" Abigail says once they've left, "We've already thought it over! We're decided! And now he says we can't...?" She can't believe it, yet the rabbi has never lied to her before. Hermann tries calming her down, yet his insistence that if that's what her own faith claims, it should be respected, doesn't soothe her any. It doesn't feel fair. She's always been good and observant, and now as soon as she'd like to start a family, she's told it doesn't count. Hermann pauses pensively, then says, "Well...I convert, then." "What--?" Abigail exclaims; he repeats himself, adding that this is the only way he can think of that their marriage MIGHT be accepted. Abigail asks why should HE have to change?--he says it's easier for him, as she has her community, while he has none. "That doesn't matter!" Abigail insists, "You still have your faith, you gave up everything else, I can't ask you to give that up, too." "You don't have to ask me, I offer," Hermann protests, but Abigail refuses: "I won't let you! You shouldn't have to and I won't let you. You shouldn't have to give up everything just for me. We're supposed to be in this together. Give and take. For better or worse." Hermann furrows his brow and says, "Then...what do you say we do?" Abigail has to pause to gather her thoughts, though only one solution presents itself: They'll have to have a civil marriage. This means, of course, that the chances of Abigail returning to synagogue afterward are practically nonexistent; although she herself wouldn't be banned from attending, she'll surely face ostracization. Hermann protests vehemently--"Mein Schatz! You just say I should not leave my faith for you--yet you do so for me? What makes us different? Why you should leave yours?" Abigail argues that, just as he left the church yet never left his beliefs, she can do the same, she shouldn't need to attend a synagogue for her prayers to count. "But your community," Hermann says; Abigail replies sadly that if she's to be with him, she'd be giving that up, anyway. "You've already sacrificed so much," she says, "I should be able to, too." Abigail says her goodbyes to the rabbi, who promises that she'll be welcomed back should she choose to return. She and Hermann are wed by a justice of the peace, and move into their new small house. They're over the moon for each other. Hermann has an office job that pays relatively well, so they never have to worry about money; they don't have much of a shared social circle, given their differences, though it's fine, they have each other's company. Hermann sees Abigail looking wistfully at the synagogue as they pass one day, and asks if she has regrets. No regrets, she says, though she admits she misses it sometimes. She asks him if he ever misses his church, why was it that he left...? Hermann pauses thoughtfully before explaining. He's never lost his faith, he says, yet while he was in the church, he just...stopped feeling God. "The church, it was empty," he says, "full of people, yet no God. He was not there." He realized one day as he was out walking after a rain, seeing a million rainbows glittering from the wet leaves, feeling the wind against his face, hearing the chorus of birdsong in the air, that that was where he felt God was near: "A cross, four walls, stained glass, a pew," he says, "I found I do not need these around me to know God is there, God is here," and he touches his heart. He sees the look on Abigail's face--her vision suddenly blurred and her throat stuck as he was talking--and frowns with dismay. "I upset you?" She shakes her head, no. "Your eyes are wet," he persists, "bitte, tell me what I say to make you sad, and to make it right." Abigail has to swallow before she can speak...she admits that she, too, had stopped feeling God around her when she went to synagogue, and even when she prayed, "It just...feels like He's not there." This is one reason she chose to leave rather than allow Hermann to convert. There's something else, though...she had started to feel His presence again. "Where?--when?" Hermann asks, curious; Abigail pauses before replying, "Whenever I'm with you." When Hermann stepped into her life, it was like the light and color and warmth returned; one reason she grew close to him so quickly. "I thought maybe I was just imagining it," she says, "or it was just wishful thinking...yet hearing what you're saying now, what you felt..." Her eyes grow wet again. "I feel like I made the right choice, being with you." Probably around roughly 1910, the Gerhardts welcome their first child, a son; "He looks like you," Abigail murmurs, seeing his fair skin, tuft of fine blond hair, and sleepy blue eyes when he manages to blink them open and whine plaintively to be fed. She insists thus that Hermann name him. Hermann ponders before mentioning his grandfather, Stefan, who helped raise him; they name their son Stephen. A couple of years later, Abigail bears a second son; "He looks like you," Hermann says, seeing his dark skin, curls of thick black hair, and flashing brown eyes when he blinks them open to squall loudly to be fed. Abigail names him Caleb. Despite their differences, Stephen and Caleb are close. Caleb is boisterous at home but quite shy and insecure in public, so clings to his older brother everywhere they go; Stephen, being the calmer, more serious brother, lets him, and doesn't protest. Whenever Caleb loses his temper and starts squalling, Stephen is always the one to try to calm him down. Caleb knows that, in time, Stephen can make everything okay. Then comes the Great War. The Gerhardts have already faced much scrutiny whenever they all go out together. The little family looks divided sharply down the middle, with Hermann and Stephen on one side, and Abigail and Caleb on the other. Their differences are painfully obvious. When they walk through Hermann's work neighborhood, everyone stares balefully at Abigail and Caleb; when they walk past the synagogue, everyone stares balefully at Hermann and Stephen. It doesn't matter that neither parent attends a congregation, or that Abigail is teaching both boys Jewish customs at home; everyone else sees a divide between them, and no one is interested in learning the truth. When Europe bursts into war, the situation grows even more tense; when the United States enters the war, things take a drastic turn for the family. The Gerhardts are out on one of their walks, Stephen entertaining Caleb with a toy, Hermann and Abigail talking and laughing, when a small group of men appear around them. Shades of the youths Hermann chased off so long ago. Anticipating a repeat of what happened before, Hermann puts himself in front of Abigail and their sons, and warns the men to back off. He's unarmed, however, and the men start picking up rocks and broken bricks lying around the street. Things escalate quickly--Hermann tells Abigail to protect the boys, and tries fighting the men off when they surge forward, yelling slurs and raising their fists. He holds his own--for a moment. After landing a few punches, he glances back--"Abigail!--take the boys and run"--when Abigail screams at him to look out, but the hand is already swinging and the rock connects with the side of Hermann's skull, knocking him down. An instant later he's lost in a barrage of blows and kicks. Abigail screams at the men to stop, tries rushing at them even though he'd told her to protect the boys; someone grabs her arms and pulls her back, yet no one hits her, and the boys are left untouched--Caleb is yelling for his father, while Stephen is just stuck standing like a statue, frozen and wide eyed. Caleb tries running forward--"Daddy, Daddy!"--someone pushes him back so hard that he falls, and Abigail breaks loose and rushes to him, scooping him up, grabbing Stephen, pulling them away, screaming the entire time. And then, just like that--a shrill whistle sounds far up the block, and the group breaks up and goes running. Abigail gasps at the sight of her husband crumpled and bleeding in the street, yet still breathing; she hurries to him and touches his arm, wanting to turn him over, unsure if she should. He turns his head a little; she quails at his swollen eyes, broken teeth, the bloody gash to his temple. She barely recognizes him. "Abigail...?" he says, voice thin and faint; he asks if she and the boys are all right, and she says yes, he kept them safe, they're fine, don't try to talk, hold on, help is coming. "Mein Schatz," Hermann murmurs, "I love you." "I love you, too," Abigail says, face streaming with tears; by the time a policeman reaches them a moment later, he's stopped breathing. In the police questioning afterward, comes awful understanding: Abigail recalls that the men didn't try to harm her, and she recalls the slurs they yelled. Hun, Kraut. Some bad words are the same everywhere. Hermann had died protecting her...when he was the target all along. The police say they'll investigate, though it's unlikely they'll catch the attackers. Abigail knows, despite their sympathy, that they aren't that interested in looking. She's surprised when the rabbi visits her not long after and asks to speak with her. He expresses his own sympathy--he sounds sincere--and says that if she and the boys need anything, they're willing to provide, and will welcome them back. "You mean now that he's gone," Abigail says; he insists he doesn't mean that, and she believes him, but she's still too raw right now to accept the offer, which he leaves standing before he departs. Stephen's and Caleb's relationship changes. Caleb cries a lot, and turns to her now for comfort, not Stephen. Stephen goes mostly mute and withdrawn, not crying, but not doing much of anything else either. Abigail can barely handle her own grief, forget about that of two children; not knowing what else to do, she turns to the synagogue. Her old acquaintances welcome her just as the rabbi promised, telling her they're sorry, even if they couldn't acknowledge the marriage, Hermann was a good man. The women help her with the boys and with the housework. She receives a widow's pension from her husband's employer, so her family doesn't become destitute, though none of this stops tensions from arising. As the boys get older, they drift even further apart, Caleb becoming more sullen as Stephen becomes more morose, and then finally, when they're in their teens, things reach a breaking point. The two get into an argument one day--yet another of many--and Caleb finally lashes out at his older brother, accusing him of not lifting a finger to help their father when he was killed. Turns out this is the source of the rage that's been simmering in him the entire time. Stephen is too stunned by the accusation to defend himself; Abigail does instead, saying Stephen was only about seven or eight years old, what could he have been expected to do against a group of armed men? Still, Caleb's bitterness and anger are now on full display, and Stephen doesn't know how to handle it. He simply attempts to avoid his brother when he can, and stops attending synagogue. The rift between the two, who used to be inseparable, breaks Abigail's heart with how pointless it is; the only person who she believes might have been able to mend it is Hermann. Abigail is cleaning up around the house one day when she finds a pamphlet--some sort of recruiting drive for the military is seeking men who speak German, which, due to the war, is hardly taught anymore. Abigail asks Caleb if it's his, he says no. When Stephen returns she asks him about it. He admits that the recruiting office signs caught his eye, and he requested some information. He says he's undecided about joining, yet Abigail's insistence that he stop considering it makes him stubborn. When she points out that they aren't even at war, and he's not even a fighting type, he says he can still be of use; when she asks if this has anything to do with his father (since the pamphlet specifically mentions Germany, for some reason), he first denies it--"Why does everything have to be about Dad?--can't I just decide something on my own, for my own reasons?"--yet then seems to admit there's a connection: "I couldn't do anything back then. But he taught me something useful. Maybe I can do something now." As for WHAT the recruiting office wants him to do, he refuses to give specifics; Abigail has an ominous feeling that he at least knows a few hints about something, but isn't allowed to talk about it. She worries that he may be getting into something shady, but all her efforts to convince him to back out just make him double down harder. She tries one last thing, asks him to return to synagogue with her, yet he declines; his comments make the truth painfully clear, that he isn't sure he believes in God anymore. Abigail's been so preoccupied keeping her family together that she never even noticed Stephen was losing his faith. As soon as he's the appropriate age, Stephen enlists in the military. Caleb stands back and glowers as he wishes his mother farewell before heading out for basic training; he can't help but offer a comment on how unfit for duty Stephen is when he couldn't even help their father. Stephen flinches like he's been slapped, yet, ever the pacifist, doesn't take the bait; "Caleb! Enough!" Abigail snaps instead, a rare loss of temper that startles both of them. She warns him she won't tolerate any more such comments, that brothers are supposed to stand by each other, and she doesn't understand what happened to them. Caleb sullenly retreats; "He just misses Dad," Stephen murmurs, and Abigail is surprised to hear him defend Caleb, like old times. She can tell that the divide between them hurts him deeply. She again tries to understand why he's doing what he's doing, and why, if he wishes to be useful, he doesn't stay with them, become head of the household. Stephen grows frustrated trying to explain himself, especially when she again entreats him to return to synagogue; "I don't belong there!" he insists. "Take a look at me! Then look at you and Caleb. We're nothing alike. You think I never saw the way people look at us? And now with Dad gone? Where do I fit in? People look at me and Dad is all they'll ever see. Not you, not Caleb. You two have your community. Now that Dad's gone, I have nothing. But at least I can do this." Abigail knows nothing she says will change Stephen's mind, will only push him away even further. She stops trying even though it breaks her heart. He goes through basic training, and prepares to head overseas; all he can tell her is he's headed to Germany for some sort of observational purposes, as they and the US are not at war so technically, American soldiers are not supposed to be there, though something about the mission seems to have him uneasy; she can tell that he wants to fill her in on his worries, yet can't. She makes sure he knows she loves and supports him, tells him to write when he's able, hugs him hard and insists that no matter what he thinks, he always has a place with them. Caleb doesn't bother coming to say goodbye or see him off; Abigail is despondent, though Stephen is merely sad and resigned. "Tell him I'm sorry, and I love him...?" he murmurs; Abigail replies, "I'll tell him you love him," implying that he has nothing to be sorry for. She gives him one item--Hermann's silver cross--telling him, when he says she should give it to Caleb, that it belongs with him more. They embrace and she watches him board the ship, glancing back and waving at her once before vanishing from sight. Abigail returns home, gives Caleb the message; "Watch him come crawling back in a few weeks," he mumbles, but says nothing else at a sharp look from her. The other members of the synagogue again step forward to help in Stephen's absence and life returns to normal, just the two of them now. Time passes. Tensions arise again in Europe. Germany again goes to war, and again, the US gets involved. Abigail's anxiety for her son goes through the roof, especially since he never visits on leave, and his already sparse letters--which he has to keep vague for security reasons, and can only send from posts outside Germany--stop completely after he makes an ominous comment that "a situation arose" after his unit found something, and he won't be able to respond for a while. She doesn't even know if he gets her own final letter. Rumors start spreading about the German regime doing something behind the scenes, something unrelated to the war, but it's all vague and hazy, and Abigail, not knowing what to believe, decides to try to tune it all out until the newspapers print the facts, or Stephen himself fills her in, as by now she's just about certain this is the activity he was sent over there to observe clandestinely. She prays for him at the synagogue, and though he would never admit it, she's sure Caleb, also rattled by the rumors, is doing the same. One day while they're within with the rest of the congregation, a small tumult arises, then a few shouts, then screams as panic arises. Smoke starts pouring from the back of the room. Everyone tries to exit the building in an orderly fashion...only to find the main entrance stuck, or blocked, or locked from the outside, no one's sure, all they know is they can't get out. The back exit is lost in the smoke and growing flames. Escape through the windows is near impossible as they're too high, and when one is broken, they can see flames outside the building as well. This is no accident--someone deliberately set the fires. A handful of people manage to make it out before the synagogue is engulfed in flame and smoke. Caleb keeps tight hold of Abigail as they try to follow, but by the time they reach the back entrance, the smoke is too thick and suffocating and they can't find the door. Abigail, racked with coughs, sinks to the floor; she feels Caleb toss his jacket over her and huddle close, trying to protect her from the fire with his arms, and all she can think as her head grows hazy is Hermann--Stephen--Caleb--Hermann--Stephen--Caleb... before the darkness crawls in from the edges and consumes everything. The rabbi is one of the lucky ones who escape mostly unscathed. He does what he can to usher others out the door before the smoke becomes too much; he runs into the alley, avoiding the few flames there, and shouts up at the windows, finds a couple of people who managed to climb out, goes to the front entrance with those who are still able bodied and forces the doors open so a few more people stumble out. He helps tend to the injured as others call for help. A fire truck arrives to douse the flames. Obvious arson--the blocked front entrance makes it painfully clear--but no suspects to be seen. Within, dozens of dead; a few are burned, but most of them simply succumbed to the smoke. Abigail and Caleb are found huddled together mere steps from the back door, Caleb shielding his mother's body, their clothes smudged and eyes closed as if merely asleep. The rabbi stands by, heartbroken, as the bodies are removed and lined up along the sidewalk. He knows everyone in his congregation personally. The dead are meant to be buried within 24 hours, though he realizes this may not be possible under such circumstances. Still, he tries to set aside his grief, and starts contacting family immediately. A telegram is sent overseas. A military clerk hastens to deliver it. It passes through numerous checkpoints, numerous hands, ends up with a unit commander behind enemy lines, where his people are technically not supposed to be. He sees the message, pales, hastens to his men, calls out a sergeant. Solemnly hands the telegram to Stephen Gerhardt, and informs him as he mutely reads it that he's granting him 72 hours' emergency leave. Literally that same day, Gerhardt is headed back home to the US, bewildered and grief stricken and numb all at once. Hermann had planned ahead, to try to spare Abigail from any unpleasantness. The family has a funeral plot in a nondenominational cemetery, where his grave is already located. The family hadn't had to ponder funeral arrangements following his death, one small mercy he granted them. Gerhardt finds himself with the rabbi; the other man apologizes profusely, offers condolences, promises to conduct a ceremony for Abigail and Caleb even though it goes against custom for them to be interred there, he doesn't care, Hermann was a good man, and he loved his family; they need to be with each other. He helps Gerhardt iron out the final details so they can be laid to rest. Gerhardt stands in a drizzling rain before the graves, kippah on his head, torn black ribbon pinned to his coat, his father's cross clutched in his hand, blank look on his face. Only after the burial is over does he take a shaking breath and blink his blurry eyes. He declines the rabbi's invitation to sit shiva, murmuring that he has to head back overseas; he says everything the family left behind can go to the synagogue, he doesn't need any of it and can't take it with him. The rabbi gives him something anyway: Abigail's Star of David. Gerhardt blinks again. Peers up at the rabbi, then casts his gaze aside, anxious and uncertain. The rabbi notices the strange look in his eyes, glassy, like he's staring through everything rather than at it; it isn't just tears. He recognizes that look from men who returned from the previous war, men who had seen things. "Stephen...?" he asks quietly, "You want to say something...?" When Gerhardt bites his lip, he understands: "You can't say anything." He promises he won't tell a soul whatever Gerhardt confides in him, for he can see it's wearing on him heavily. It takes another moment for Gerhardt to finally speak, and he only does so under his breath, leaning close. "You can't tell anyone about this," he whispers, "we're not even supposed to be behind enemy lines yet," and after another reassurance, pauses, then whispers even more softly. "Those rumors that are going around, I know you must have heard some..." "About Germany deporting the Jews?" the rabbi says, "I've heard, yes." Gerhardt bites his lip again. "They're not deporting them anymore," he says, and the rabbi furrows his brow, the tone of Gerhardt's voice making him uneasy. It's another moment before he continues. "My unit found this train...abandoned on the tracks. Not a regular train. Cattle cars..." (Please see also HERMANN'S ENTRY, and ABIGAIL'S.) [Caleb Gerhardt 2024 [Friday, August 9, 2024, 12:00:10 AM]] |