Oh, the PRESSURE!

My dear grandchildren,

My father, whose grandchildren called him “Opa,” wrote two books. In 1979, when he was in his 50s, he wrote The Longest Year in the Young Life of Peter Bauer for his children and future grandchildren. In it, Opa described the very tumultuous year of 1945 in the life of a fictional character, Peter Bauer.

Of course, we all knew that Peter Bauer was actually Thomas Heumann. Telling his story in the third person allowed my father to explore his memories and emotions without entirely re-living them at a proximity he wasn’t ready for.

Thirty years later, Opa finished The Rim of the Volcano, again written for his children, and now also written for grandchildren who had names and faces and personalities. In “Rim,” Opa absorbed the narrative of his first book, but his new book went deeper and wider, to include a discussion of the political environment in Germany that allowed the Nazi regime to take hold and to grow, and especially how that environment impacted the young man in the story – who is now bravely called “I” instead of “Peter.”

I promised my father that, per his wishes, I would bring the story he told only to his children and grandchildren to the public. In the almost four years since his death I have been working through confusion and paralysis as to how, exactly, to accomplish this overwhelming task. My father left me shelves and shelves of books, binders, and documents pertaining to the writing of his story. One large binder is dedicated solely to his thoughts, doubts, and apprehensions about writing what became the “Rim” book.

Unlike the story of Peter Bauer, Opa wanted “Rim” to include detailed, factual information about the history and politics in WWII Germany that played such a big role in his young life. That would require research. All of this felt overwhelming to Thomas – just like writing his story has felt overwhelming to me – and he almost decided not to even tackle what felt to him like a herculean task and to just leave it to his decedents (he made it clear he meant me) to finish the task.

In 2011, Opa did finish writing The Rim of the Volcano, but it took him four years to do so – and it almost didn’t happen. Like me, he must have sat at his desk for hours and days, wondering how to even begin.

Any good writing teacher will say “just write – just start; the rest will take care of itself!” To hyper-organized, type A, bullet-point, outline, and list-loving writers like Dad and me, the thought of just diving in is terrifying. It completely paralyzed my dad for years, as the documents in his “writing process” binder attest.

Just look!

So much self-doubt! So much self-inflicted pressure to “get it right”!

See? I believe that Thomas felt pressure and judgement from his father, Carl, even from the grave…. not unlike the pressure and judgement I’ve felt for four years from Thomas, even from the grave. Why we do this to ourselves for generations on end?!

My children will inherit Opa’s many binders filled with research, letters, memories, plans, doubts, starts and re-starts, and finally, two finished books. I hereby give them permission to break the cycle. It pains me to say this, because I am my father’s daughter, but keep what’s meaningful to you and toss the rest.

Except Opa’s original Nazi-era documents. Keep those.

Also, his personal journals and stories. Shouldn’t you also keep those?

Sigh.