My father, Hans-Georg Graf von Rittberg, was born on March 27, 1943, on his family’s estate in Pomerania during World War II. In early 1945, his mother, Karin Gräfin von Rittberg, eight months pregnant, fled with her two sons ahead of the Russian occupation. Her husband was executed in April 1945 for his involvement in the resistance against Hitler.

By the fall of 1945, they were finally able to reach Western Germany, escaping Russian-controlled territory. In our conversation, my father recalls his earliest memories in Königsbach, where they lived above a horse stall. Winters were brutally cold, and to keep her sons from freezing at night, his mother would bind their hands so they would keep them tucked under the blankets.

What I find most striking are the tender memories my father carries from such a devastating time — playing in the woods, building makeshift bridges, learning to navigate the world with curiosity and imagination. He speaks about growing up in post-war Germany with a mother who, despite having lost almost everything, always found ways to create a good life from what they had.

As he grew older, his central ambition became rebuilding what had been lost, and one day offering his own family the life he had always dreamed of. Had my father not received a Fulbright scholarship to study in New York — where he met my mother — I would not be here today.

Their life together has been one great adventure, and I feel deeply grateful and proud to be part of it.

My mother, Gretchen Elizabeth Wetzel, was born in Glendive Montana in 1949. Her mother’s family had arrived in covered wagons in Willow Creek Valley in 1891. But this is not where the traveling ended. After moving to Missoula, my grandfather was hired by the Ford Foundation as an educational adviser for the Pakistani Government to set up pilot schools in East Pakistan. My mom was fifteen, when her family moved to Dhaka (at that time East Pakistan, now Bangladesh). Since there was no high school for her, she was sent to a boarding school in New Delhi. It was her first, but certainly not last, big adventure.

When I look at my mom’s life, I think of my Grandma’s quilt, every piece of fabric tells its own story. My mom has lived in the most breathtaking places of Montana, behind mud walls in an Indian village, New York, Hamburg, Berlin, Valencia, and the quaint little village of Beyenburg, where I was born. Her life has been everything but boring. One of my earliest memories is seeing her as a child, her gorgeous brown braid cascading down her shoulder, thinking she looked like a queen. It is truly an honor to share her story with you.

https://flatheadbeacon.com/e-edition/12_03_2020/mobile/index.html#p=76

https://dailyinterlake.com/news/2018/mar/15/betty-wetzel-102-6/

Born in Scotland, Angie Seckinger spent her childhood moving a lot all over the globe, from Pakistan, Columbia, Chile and Guatemala to Arizona, Washington DC, Maryland and Germany. Her dad was a foreign service officer and her life was never boring. Angie has been an artist and professional photographer for 40 years. I met her through my husband Pata when I first came to Cornudella in 2014. At the time, she was still living the double life, hustling as a well established photographer in the US, and spending her winters on her quiet piece of property tucked up against the Montsant. We have spent hours talking on her deck. Every time her insights resonate and I walk away inspired. Angie seems to always get me and understand my process. In this recording, we talk about feeling stuck, the cycles of life, the creative process and the importance of stopping. Angie also shares how she learned what ‘having enough’ means to her. In her own words: “Today, I am retired and living my best, peaceful life”.