funny, isn't it?
by jeanne charters

Funny, isn’t it, how perspective changes everything? If you’re skinny and someone calls you lanky, you’re never sure whether to be flattered or offended. If you’re a bit on the chubby side and you overhear someone say “zaftig”, you run to the dictionary to be sure they’re not calling you fat.

The other day I was with some friends and we were recounting our honeymoons. I’ve had two, you know. On my first honeymoon, I traveled with Ed to New York City and to Washington, D.C. The month was October; and even then, Washington was stifling. Touring the Lincoln Monument in that heat was torture second only to the agony of doing the same tour 5 years later with 3 kids in tow.

On my next honeymoon, I was with Matt. It was a second marriage for both of us. I had never been to Europe. Matt, who had lived in France for 3 years in the military, had traveled there extensively with his parents, his first wife, Christa, and his son, Dean. Christa was born in Germany and spoke fluent German as well as English. Matt spoke a smattering of German and some high school French. I was, and am, uno-lingual.

So, Matt invited me to take my first European trip for our honeymoon. Yippee!! I couldn’t wait. We would fly out of New York into Iceland for refueling and then on to Luxembourg. Matt had done his research and learned that car rentals are mucho cheap in Luxembourg.

We borrowed 2 valium tablets from a friend and they put us to sleep for the entire red-eye over the pond. We awoke in Europe rested and ready for fun. We drove that first day from Luxembourg to Heidelberg, Germany. Strains of the Student Prince danced in my head as I toured the Schloss (castle) of the Prince. Looking from the castle over the red-tiled roofs of Heidelberg down to the Neckar River, I felt like the luckiest and happiest woman in the world. The only thing that bothered me was the fact that while Matt could navigate directions and money changing like a pro, thanks to his ability with the language, I was reduced to standing around, smiling like a middle-aged Barbie doll who had not one thought in her head and no clue as to what everyone was saying.

From Germany, we drove to Austria. Matt wanted to eschew the large cities and stay in guest houses in the villages where we could mingle with the natives and where he could continue to show off his German. I knew that if he felt good, I’d probably have a sexy time, so that was OK with me. Off we headed for St. Wolfgang, Austria, a village near Salzburg.

I have never seen a more beautiful place. It looked as if Hans Christian Andersen had drawn the blueprint for this quaint town with its cobblestone streets and Alpine cottages. On the way to St. Wolfgang, we had passed the valley in the Alps where Maria had sung “The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music”. I insisted that Matt stop the car so that I could get out and replicate Julie Andrews’ performance (granted, I sang it an octave lower, but at least I knew all the words.) Thank God she had sung in English!

We stopped at the guest house which Matt had reserved and were greeted at the front door by Frau Eisel. She spoke no English. As you know, I spoke no German. Matt babbled away like a native. She showed us to our immaculate room with its balcony looking out on the mountains and the lake. Matt opened a bottle of wine and poured us a glass as we sat down to marvel at the beauty of our honeymoon world.
“How did you ever find this place?” I asked him. “Oh, I’ve been here before,” he replied. “You have?” I asked. “Yep.”

Taking a deep breath, I got the courage to ask the question. “Who was with you on that trip?” “Oh, Christa.”

My Irish blood boiled. He had actually brought me to a honeymoon cottage that he had shared with his first wife. He had no idea why that disturbed me. I had no idea how he could be so dense.

Anyway, after a time, I let it go and decided not to ruin the rest of our honeymoon over an inconsequential matter; but I still couldn’t believe he was oblivious to my feelings on it.

10 years later, we returned to St. Wolfgang with another couple…Jim and Elaine Roemer. I rhapsodized to Elaine about the beauty of the locale and the place where we would be staying. Then, I said, “But frankly, I dread seeing Frau Eisel again. She reminds me of a Valkyrie from a Wagnerian Opera. She’s big and rough and not very nice.” Matt looked at me incredulously but kept driving.

In the 10 years that had passed, I had manufactured stories in my head about how Frau Eisel and Christa had probably become good pals because of their ability to converse and that Frau probably hated me because I was Christa’s replacement. Imagine my shock when the door opened to reveal a tiny, smiling woman who was nothing like the Frau of my memory. I had conveniently turned her into a monster to suit my own drama. It’s all perspective, you see?

I learned a lesson that day. I’m not sure what it was, but at least I now know the endless boundaries of my own imagination when I’m feeling threatened. Poor little Frau Eisel. During that stay, we became friends, although we never understood a word of our conversations.

Jeanne Charters is a former V.P. of Marketing for Viacom Television. She started her own award-winning broadcast advertising agency in 1990. Jeanne lives in Fairview with her husband, Matt Restivo.

[ charmkt@juno.com; 828-628-0023 ]