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Irmgard Tanzer Blog Entry |
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July 12, 2024, 12:00:47 AM 7/12/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Irmgard Tanzer. She's the woman who raises the young Inga (Dobermann) and leaves her her savings, which Inga decides to live off of while visiting soldiers in hospital, where she meets her future husband Louis. Irmgard isn't Inga's mother, however, or even her aunt though Inga calls her that; Inga finds out her parents' identities later. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se. Regarding her design, she's a red and tan/rust doberman pinscher. This is roughly the Edwardian era, thus the hair. TUMBLR EDIT: Irmgard is relatively new; she's been around in concept for a bit as "Inga's aunt," but just now got a name, and even more, INGA'S PAST HAS FINALLY OPENED UP. Finally! I took note of it starting to do so last December, but just barely, and it didn't feel "right" yet. A rather forbidding adoptive aunt figure emerged, but little else. Well, at last it started opening up, adoptive aunt is revealed not to be her aunt at all, there's a vague (still rather uncertain) idea of what became of her parents, and she's acquired a last name: Stern. This is still a heavily developing story, so details may change, but...here we go! Inga's introduction to the main story comes when she appears one day in the military hospital near the end of the Great War, offering to provide comfort to lonely soldiers who have nobody to visit them. Here she meets both Louis Dobermann and Gunter Hesse. Both men fall in love with her; Dobermann speaks up first and proposes, and Inga soon heads home with him, while Hesse remains behind but later becomes a close family friend, helping to raise their daughter Adelina (who, incidentally, calls him "Uncle" although they aren't related). Inga is forced to fake her own death after killing a Nazi intruder in the house and accidentally outing herself as Jewish when her Star of David pendant is revealed; she comes out of hiding near the war's end, her presence helping convince Hesse, now an SS officer, to turn on the SS and help the Dobermanns escape, at the cost of his own life. Dobermann (and Hesse...it's complicated) is killed a year or so later attempting to thwart a remaining Nazi plot; Inga grieves for him deeply, and succumbs to dementia some years later. She and Louis leave behind Adelina and her own two sons, Louis II and Diepold. Inga's life before she meets Dobermann remains a mystery to Hesse, and Dobermann himself doesn't learn of it until after they're reunited for that brief year or so following the war. She's Jewish, yet admits that she never practiced the faith (when the Jewish Tobias Schäfer comes to live with them, she has to familiarize herself with kosher foods to tell the kitchen staff what to prepare for him, as she's never kept kosher herself); she describes herself as secular, and when explaining why she never told even her own family, she says it simply never seemed like it mattered until then. Her personal knowledge of Judaism is quite minimal. It's obvious she wasn't raised under Jewish principles. She's also apparently without any family of her own, as she tells both Hesse and Dobermann this; so when Dobermann explains away his decision to remove her body following her "death," before it can be investigated, by claiming he sent it to her extended family at their request, Hesse is confused; Inga never told him about any extended family. He goes along with the story anyway. (Hesse and Inga end up having one big detail in common: They were both orphaned as infants, and ended up wards of the state. Hesse, however, was never adopted...keep reading for Inga's circumstances.) There's one more odd detail, that Inga never appears to have any job. She just shows up at the hospital and spends all her time visiting the soldiers, never needing to work. She has some other unexplained source of money. So: She's estranged from her own heritage, has no family, and has money yet no job; so what's going on? Enter Irmgard Tanzer. Irmgard is a relatively well-off, somewhat elderly spinster in a nice neighborhood at the edge of the city (similar to later suburbs). Nice house with a wrought-iron fence and set of stone steps. Nice greenery along the street. Quiet, low traffic, peaceful. As she leaves her house one day to do her daily things, fussing with her purse and parasol, she hears something nearby. Stops to listen. It sounds like a cat or kitten in distress. She cranes her neck and peers around, determining that the noise is coming from one of the bushes along the fence, right beside her gate; she stoops, a bit painfully due to her age, and carefully parts the leaves. Takes in a breath. There's a baby basket sitting on the ground between the branches, and a tiny baby within, mouth wide, face screwed up, mewing loudly. "Ah mein Gott, ah mein Gott," Irmgard gasps, grasping the basket and carefully pulling it out. She makes shushing noises the entire time she gently pulls back the blanket around the baby and tries to check if it's all right, though she has no idea what she's doing, she's never raised a child. She can't find any overt injuries or anything; there isn't a covering of dew on the blanket, so it couldn't have been out all night, somebody must have dropped it off relatively recently. She looks up and down the street but nobody strange is in sight. Tucked in the blanket, she finds only three things: a small, worn, stuffed doll; a note; and a gold locket. Irmgard opens the note; it says merely, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF MY INGA. She then opens the locket; within is a tiny photo of a man and woman, and a small gold Star of David. "Inga," Irmgard murmurs, stares at the photo, then shakes herself out of it, as the baby is still crying. Picks up the basket, abandoning her parasol, and stands up, exclaiming, "Hallo--? Hallo! Help! Help...!" until a few passersby and a policeman finally appear and hurry her way. They ponder over who might have left the baby and why; the policeman offers to take her to the station, though Irmgard insists on going along. She wants to be sure the baby's parents are found and that until then she's kept safe. Another policeman at the station theorizes that the baby's parents chose Irmgard's neighborhood as it's pretty well off; and as the baby was obviously not left out all night, her parents were likely keeping watch on Irmgard's house for a while, to see when she came and left. They're apparently Jewish--which should narrow down the prospects considerably--and based on the condition of the basket, blanket, and toy, are probably rather poor, though they may have had better days, based on the jewelry and the photo. Inga is examined by a doctor; she's healthy, clean, well cared for, and is hungry but not neglected. Whoever her family is, they clearly loved her. Irmgard's confusion just grows: "If they love her so much, why then did they abandon her...?" The police guess that her parents may have fallen on hard times and simply couldn't afford to care for her. They'll ask around, see if anyone knows of such a family who recently had a baby, though until then, Inga will be placed in an orphanage. Irmgard frets over this--"You're putting her up for adoption?"--the policeman says that yes, this is what will happen if they can't locate her family. They reassure her they'll do what they can, thank her, and send her on her way. Irmgard can't get Inga out of her head, however. She waits a few days, heads back to the station, asks after the case. No progress, but they're looking, working hard. She visits the orphanage. Inga is there, wriggling in a crib; the attendant tells her the girl is barely more than a newborn. Irmgard heads home, but as the days go by she grows more restless. Visits the police again a few weeks later. This time they're a bit more curt, a bit less friendly; they're doing their job, no there are no leads, will she please just let them work? She doesn't need to fuss over "some Jew-baby" that isn't even her own. The police's attitude rubs Irmgard the wrong way, and she returns to the orphanage. Is surprised to find Inga still there; she blinks her big brown eyes at Irmgard and wriggles her arms again. Irmgard asks if anyone's shown interest in adopting her. The attendant looks a bit sad; lots of people have shown interest, yet after being told the baby's background, they moved on. "Maybe it's just me," she murmurs, "maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there...yet I wonder if they don't want to adopt her because she's a Jew." She quickly adds that Inga being abandoned might have something to do with it too, or maybe they worry that the parents will return for her. She doesn't know. Could be another reason. Could be anything. Irmgard, prim, proper, sheltered Irmgard, decides to do something drastic: She'll look for Inga's parents herself. She can't help but suspect the police aren't digging as much as they should. She's unsure of how to proceed--she doesn't have any investigation experience or anything--so she takes the most obvious step, and visits a nearby synagogue, requesting to speak with the rabbi. Irmgard figures a synagogue is similar to a church in being a place where the local citizens of faith gather, and like a priest, a rabbi might be in the best position to know who lives in the area and what family might have recently had a child. She shows him a copy of the photo. He doesn't recognize the couple, but suggests she try another synagogue: This is an Orthodox congregation, and the woman in the photo isn't wearing a head covering. Irmgard has no idea what any of this means; the rabbi replies that she may have more luck at a Conservative or more liberal synagogue. She thanks him but before she leaves, asks if anyone else has stopped by to inquire about the couple. The rabbi says no, she's the only one. Swallowing down the anger that crowds into her throat, Irmgard thanks him again and departs. Then steps behind a wall, clenches her fists, and takes a moment to force herself to calm down. She'd suspected as much, but to receive confirmation that the police HAVEN'T EVEN INTERVIEWED THE LOCAL JEWISH CONGREGATIONS just steams her like little else. What have they been doing all this time? Do they just not care? She thinks of adorable little Inga, still lying in the orphanage, no one asking to adopt her, and the police's inaction is more feasible...she takes a few breaths, smooths down her dress and hair, and heads for the other synagogue suggested. As soon as she shows the little photo to the second rabbi, he exclaims, "Frau Stern! Have you seen her? Do you know where she is...?" "You know her--?" Irmgard asks, to which he replies, "Ja, only in passing I'm afraid, but Frau Stern used to come here regularly with her husband...he died recently, some long illness. It's such a shame...she was with child, you see. Herr Stern was the breadwinner, and she had no way to make money. I know she was worried...she stopped coming to synagogue a while back. I think she just lost her faith. We offered to help her with the baby when it came, but she never asked...I think maybe she felt she had no right to ask for our help, but we would have given it gladly, no matter if she still believed or not. Do you know her? It's been quite a while since she's come around, and I've wondered about her..." Irmgard says, "Nein, I didn't know her..." and to her surprise, finds herself lying. "I just found this locket, and wished to get it back to her. So...she's a widow? Herr Stern is...?" The rabbi confirms that her husband died some months ago, after being ill for quite a while, and Frau Stern seemed to have no other relatives around. He offers to keep hold of the locket for her, yet Irmgard says she'll keep looking. "Let her know, if you find her," the rabbi says, "we're still here and ready to welcome her with open arms, whether she believes or not." Irmgard promises, turning away a bit quickly as she has to wipe her damp eyes. She goes to the police with what she's found, though she has to bite her tongue. Indeed, they start to brush her off, until she mentions the name Stern; there's a brief flurry of whispers, and finally they admit that there's a woman who matches Frau Stern's appearance, and was wearing a ring with the name Stern engraved on it, in the morgue. Irmgard is struck mute by this, needing to find her voice to ask what happened to her; drowning, she's told, though upon autopsy, it was found that she was seriously ill, and dying already. It looks like a suicide. "Should...should I go look, to identify her...?" Irmgard asks; the police think the rabbi would be better suited for this, and he's called. He IDs Frau Stern, and sadly asks if he can claim the body to be properly buried: "She shouldn't have been left here so long," he murmurs, and starts signing papers to have her body released into his custody. When left alone with Irmgard for a moment, he pauses as if to be sure no one is around, then whispers to her, "The baby...is it all right?" Irmgard: *startled* "What...?" Rabbi: "They said nothing about a dead child. You said nothing about it when you spoke with me. She must have had her baby already. You must know something about it...is it all right?" Irmgard: "I..." *bites lip* Rabbi: "It's dead...?" *long silence; gets a knowing look* "It's alive...that's why you came to me." Irmgard: *silence* Rabbi: *pause* "You're afraid we want to take it back. Because you've decided you want to keep it." Irmgard lowers her head, ashamed and embarrassed, yet it's true...upon learning that Inga has no family left to take her, she felt her heart crumple, then fill up with determination that she wouldn't be abandoned again. It feels almost like a sign that Frau Stern left the child right outside her gate. The rabbi is quiet for a moment before murmuring, "I believe it would be best if it were raised in our traditions..." Irmgard's insides shrink "...yet what matters most is it's happy, and loved. You believe you could offer that...?" "I hope I can," Irmgard murmurs back, "I have to at least try." "Then that's what counts," the rabbi says, as the policeman comes back with the news that the morgue will release Frau Stern's body for burial. "I won't try to challenge you for custody," he says to Irmgard, "just promise me you'll love and care for that child with all your heart." "I will," Irmgard says, surprised by her own conviction; the rabbi's eyes grow a little glassy as the table with a sheet covering it is wheeled past, he lets out a breath, nods, and follows them out. Irmgard is left alone with her roiling thoughts. She heads to the orphanage. Irrationally fearful that she'll arrive to find Inga gone, snatched away from her, yet the attendant smiles and leads her right to the baby's crib. Irmgard is so conflicted; she knows nothing about babies, she's never had any children, she's rather older than most mothers, can she even keep up with a child?--what is she thinking? Is this even feasible? She nearly backs out of her own plan, then remembers the promise she just made to the rabbi, and knows that even more, it's a promise to Frau Stern, who left the child for her to find. Surely she chose Irmgard, out of everyone else on her street, in her neighborhood, for a reason. "May...may I hold her, bitte...?" she asks, and Inga is placed in her arms. Inga blinks her big brown eyes and makes small baby noises. Irmgard's heart feels about to burst. "No one's chosen to adopt her, yet...?" she asks, and the attendant sighs and shakes her head no. "Could...do you think, do you think they would allow me...?" Irmgard tries to ask, falters, sees the look on the attendant's face--"Are--are you saying you're interested?" she asks, sounding incredulous--and loses her nerve. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, lowering her head, ears burning, as Inga coos. "I know it's silly, I'm too old for a child..." The attendant raises her hands. "Nein--nein!" she says hastily. "Actually...I'd rather been hoping you'd be interested, it's obvious you care for her, more than anyone else I've seen. We prefer our children to go to married couples but she's been here for a while now, and I can put in a good word for you. You can bring any other references you may have, anything helps. Whatever is best for the child, ja...?" Irmgard lifts her head and blinks when Inga grasps her finger; "It looks like she's chosen you," the attendant smiles, and Irmgard knows Inga will be going home with her, no matter what. She meekly asks the rabbi to vouch for her, expecting nothing, yet he obliges. Inga has no known next of kin to contest the adoption, and although there's no real legality behind it, the fact that Frau Stern abandoned the infant practically outside Irmgard's front gate points toward her consigning the infant into her specific care; the police prefer the case to be wrapped up, so officially declare Frau Stern's death a suicide--widowed, destitute, and dying, likely from the same illness that took her husband, she left Inga to what she hoped was a better life, before taking her own--and the last few wrinkles are ironed out, and Irmgard takes Inga Stern, now Inga Tanzer, home. She decides against hiring a nanny, although she has more than enough money to do so--she wants to raise the child herself. It's a lot of trial and error though, and she finds herself asking other female acquaintances for advice. She doesn't really have any close friends she can ask; although friendly and polite enough, she's always kept to herself. She expects to be rebuffed, yet most of the mothers she talks to while strolling Inga through the park are willing and happy to help. Irmgard may be naive and sheltered but she learns quickly, and despite a few hiccups early on, she does a decent job raising the girl. Inga is herself quiet and polite, yet definitely not out of shyness or uncertainty, like Irmgard; indeed, she seems to have a stubborn streak, and although she never throws tantrums or even engages in arguments, she knows how to dig her heels in when she disagrees with something. "Moving you is like moving a mountain!" Irmgard exclaims whenever Inga insists on getting her way. As time goes on, though, Inga realizes she can use other, more effective means to get what she wants; everyone looks at her and sees a sweet, well-behaved, pretty girl, and all she has to do is play along with this impression, and people will do or give her whatever she wants. She doesn't even have to try. Irmgard doesn't fall for this innate charm nearly so much, though she recognizes it, and cautions Inga against using it indiscriminately: "I can't tell you not to, I imagine it'll be useful when you're grown up and on your own, but bitte, be careful that you don't become cruel or heartless. It's the worst thing, to use someone's feelings against them, and treat them like an object. Bitte, promise me you'll never become that person." "I promise, Aunt Irma," Inga replies, and given her honesty with everything else, Irmgard believes she means it. One thing only looms like a shadow over Irmgard's otherwise loving and open relationship with Inga: Inga's true heritage. Irmgard has no idea how to approach this, so she decides not to approach it at all. She does let Inga know she's not truly related to her by blood--"It hardly matters though, I love you just the same," she insists--but as for Inga's true family, she says she'll tell her when she's older. Once in a while Inga asks, and Irmgard gently puts her off, and that's all. Until one day, the teenaged Inga comes to her with something in her hands. It's Frau Stern's locket. Irmgard's face goes pale, though Inga seems more apologetic than anything. Inga: "I...I know you wanted me to wait, but...I got to thinking, and it just drove me mad inside, I had to know. Bitte, don't be angry with me." Irmgard: "I'm not angry, Liebe...just...I don't know what I should tell you. I didn't know your family. They left you for me." Inga: "What were their names...?" Irmgard: "Their last name was Stern. This is all I know." Inga: "Do...do you know why? Why they left me? Did...did they not want me?" Irmgard: "Nein, nein, this isn't it at all, Liebe! From what I understand they loved you very much! Your...your father was very ill, and...he died, and left your mother alone." *Inga gets a stricken look* "And your mother...she became ill as well...they say she wouldn't have lived long. She didn't have the money to care for you and didn't want to leave you on your own. I...I don't know how or why she chose to leave you at my gate...but I promised myself I'd take the best care of you that I could. I hope I've lived up to that." Inga: "Why...why didn't you want me to know this until later?" Irmgard: *eyes tearing up* "I thought...I thought my loving you wouldn't be enough, and you might want to leave me. And then my heart would break." Irmgard puts her hands to her eyes and starts weeping--"I'm sorry, Liebe, I didn't mean to keep this from you, yet I couldn't bear to lose you"--then feels Inga's hand on her arm, then Inga's arms around her. "I'd never leave," Inga murmurs, "you're all I have in the world." She holds on to Irmgard until her weeping abates; as Irmgard dabs at her wet eyes, she hesitantly adds, "But...Aunt Irma...what does this mean...?" Irmgard lifts her head, and sees that Inga is holding up the Star of David. Irmgard explains the best she can...which isn't that well. She knows practically nothing about the subject, figuring ignorance was better than involving herself in a world she doesn't belong to. Inga seems confused to learn she's part of this world yet has no knowledge of it; Irmgard asks if she'd be interested in visiting a synagogue, speaking with a rabbi. "Then what...?" Inga asks, to which Irmgard admits, she doesn't know: "That's up to you to decide, Liebe." Inga stares at the necklace for a moment, then closes her hand around it. Despite her earlier words, Irmgard briefly fears she's about to lose her; yet Inga replaces the Star in the locket and closes it. "She wanted me to have it," she murmurs, "so I'll keep it nearby. But she wanted you to have me. This is where I belong." Inga is in her late teens when Irmgard's health starts failing. She stays by Irmgard's side, first when she's confined to a chair, then to her bed. Irmgard is more heartbroken over her perceived burden on Inga than over the fact that she's almost certainly dying; "I wanted so much to always be there for you, through all your life," she despairs, crushed that Inga is going to be left all alone again. Yet Inga bears this all stoically despite the tears in her own eyes, smoothing Irmgard's hair, bringing her broth to sip, resting her head on her arm. She reassures Irmgard repeatedly that she's not upset with her, either for withholding the details about her parents, or for leaving her so soon; "You've cared for me, given me everything," she murmurs, "just like you promised. Now I'll take care of you." Irmgard soon after passes away, Inga faithfully at her side. Inga sits a while, wiping at her streaming eyes, clutching Irmgard's still, frail hand. She eventually pulls herself together and goes to the telephone; Irmgard left her a number to get in contact with. She calls it, tells the person on the other end who she is and what's happened; they reply that they'll take care of everything, just sit tight. A doctor arrives, checks Irmgard over, gently tells Inga he'll make sure her body is taken care of and funeral arrangements will be made. Just as he's exiting, another man arrives and introduces himself; he's Irmgard's estate attorney. Irmgard prepared for this moment long ago, not long after bringing Inga into her home; ever cautious, she wanted to be sure Inga would always be secure, and would never have to worry about anything. Inga is surprised to learn that Irmgard has left her entire estate to her, and it includes not just the house and its belongings, but Irmgard's savings. She always lived comfortably, yet rather frugally...Inga learns now that she was actually quite well off, most of her spending going toward Inga's upbringing. And now the rest of her considerable savings belong to Inga. Inga has no idea what to do with her newfound wealth. She has no desire to travel, plus, there's a war going on even if she did want to. She ponders her options as she walks through the city; she happens to glance up in time to see that the city hospital is nearby. Several patients are sitting outside in their wheelchairs in the sun. While family members are tending to most of them, one or two sit by themselves, with no one but a nurse to check on them. Inga stands gazing at the patients who have no one to come visit them, and thinks back on what Irmgard had told her about her own past, how she'd been in the orphanage, with no one to come choose her. She realizes that, with money, she has all the time in the world. She can be the one who visits the lonely people in the hospitals, the people who have no one. Like Irmgard once did for her, she can let them know that they're seen, that they matter. Inga seeks out the nearest military hospital, deciding to focus her energy on the wounded troops. Her request to meet isolated soldiers with no family or visitors is met with mild puzzlement; yet she's pointed out to the patients who have no one to come see them. She approaches them one after the other with her disarming smile and hallo; the soldiers are initially perplexed, uncertain why she's there, but soon warm to her visits, opening up and talking with her. They're grateful for any positive attention, and though she eventually has to move on to another hospital, their moods seem greatly improved by her temporary presence. The hospital staff, too, appreciate what she does, and once word spreads, she's allowed in willingly and welcomed by the doctors and nurses. Inga arrives at a military hospital she hasn't visited yet, greets the staff, asks who she should visit. The nurse tells her about a new patient, an army captain, who just received terrible news; in his absence, his entire family succumbed to the flu. Inga goes to talk to him. Stands at his bedside; when he looks up at her, she greets him, tells him her name, says she's there to provide some company. Then waits for a response. None is forthcoming; he just stares at her. Inga starts to feel a bit disconcerted, fidgets, adds, "If you'd like...?" Wonders if maybe he just wants her to leave him alone. The wounded soldier lifts a hand and points at his ear, shaking his head. "I can't hear you," he says, a bit too loudly. "The shell blast deafened me." Inga's eyes go wide; she blushes, gestures for him to wait a moment, hurries back to the nurse. Asks for a pen and pad of paper to communicate with; the nurse apologizes, gives her the requested items, and Inga heads back to the soldier's bedside. Points at herself, writes on the pad, and shows it to him: INGA. She doesn't have to wait for a response this time. "Louis," the soldier says, and Inga sits down beside him, pen in hand. [Irmgard Tanzer 2024 [Friday, July 12, 2024, 12:00:47 AM]] |