“Even if it did not seem that way at first.” Michaela is at a hostel welcome desk. The attendant says, “Checkout is 9 A.M. Breakfast 7-8 A.M.” Michaela asks, “Do you have lockers?” “After they kicked me out life actually got easier. At the youth hostel I was the only guest, so I could spread out a little.” “I was now in the center of Wiesbaden, instead of their distant high-rise suburb.” “I could focus.” Michaela stands outside of the Landesbibliotek. “It was peaceful.” People whisper at long library tables. Michaela is studying at the library. “As a topic for my thesis one place that stood out was the so-called ‘Hadamar Euthanasia Center’ - mere steps from where Helmut - my adoptive father - grew up.” “Hadamar was the site of a ‘murder factory,’ a psychiatric hospital where more than 15,000 perished.” The inside of a gas chamber, with no shower heads or drain.” “The victims included disabled and handicapped people, ‘chronic patients,’ and P.O.W.s.” A cemetery surrounded by rolling hills and houses. “Hadamar was part of an operation called ’T4.’ It was a precursor to the mass killing of Jews. Its bosses were sentenced to death in an American trial in Wiesbaden in October 1945 but many employees - local drivers, nurses, typists - got off.” Newspaper clippings read, “20,000 slain in Nazi House of Shudders,” and, “Doctors killed ‘undesirables.’” A book titled, “War Crimes Trials the Hadamar Trial” by Hon. Robert H. Jackson, Vol. IV. “Many in the region got paychecks from the asylum. Armgard Huber, the former Headnurse, was released in 1952 and lived in Hadamar until her death in 1983, unbothered.” “Helmut and Marlies had relatives in each of the little villages between Hadamar and Limburg. They knew every family name and who belonged to which hamlet. Helmut’s sister lived in Offheim all her life. A half-hour walk from Hadamar. But they knew and felt ‘nothing’ and said I was asking the ‘wrong people.’” Helmut’s sister says, “Never heard of it!” without making eye contact. Marlies says, “You can’t know some things.” Helmut, covering his eyes, says, “We visited Offheim on Sundays.” “Marlies was a nursing student three miles from Hadamar, in Elz. In 1952, the year former head nurse Huber was released from prison.” Michaela says, “I know you weren’t THERE! But didn’t people gossip?” Marlies replies, upset, “No! Nobody did!” Michaela pushes, “So how about now? How does it make you feel?” Michaela writes in a journal, “So Mama said ‘It’s not my fault.’ this was in Offheim, and she added, ‘I feel nothing.’ ‘I was never in the party.’ ‘Don’t even dream of asking me for a ride.’” Weeks later, on a bus, Michaela thinks, “Sigh! Forgot the flowers!” “It took forever to get to Hadamar by bus. Everyone knew why I was there, even without flowers.” Bus passengers turn in their seat to look at Michaela, with scowls. A man points at a building and says, “It’s up there! But closed today…cough…murmur…Closed.” The buildings along the street all have large watching eyes on them. “I found locked buildings and at the top of a steep hill out of sight behind tall trees, a smaller than expected grass field. And an obelisk with the words, “Man, honor man.” “You could learn more in books and trial records than on site. If I wanted to use interviews in my thesis Hadamar was not a feasible topic.” Michaela lies in her hostel bed, knees on chest, thinking, “It’s still an asylum.” “Back in Wiesbaden, I plunged into the city’s tiny punk scene.” “I went to one epic show.” Michaela, hair spiked up and wearing makeup, holds a show poster that reads, “23 März 1989, 21 UHR, Zick Zack Wiesbaden,” with an album cover for “Böhse, Onkelz.” “And I documented graffiti.” Michaela photographs a wall that reads, “Türken raus” and “Steh Aufu...Zurück.” She asks a man, “Can you say what it means?” Smiling, he replies, “No idea!” The captions translate the graffiti as, “Turks out” and “Stand up and strike back.” “Anti-Nazi slogans were absolutely everywhere.” A wall is covered in graffiti reading, “Nazis raus!” with people throwing swastikas in trash cans. Anarchist circle-As are also on the wall. A page of graph paper is covered in Michaela’s (cut-off) notes, including drawings of the anti-Nazi graffiti. “I tried to figure out how I felt about the angriest street art. Like this 4x4 in. flyer that was based on ‘Juda Verrecke,’ Hitler’s battle cry, ‘Death to Juda.’ Is that was Helmut and Marlies thought I was saying to them? ‘Death to Nazis’?” A flyer shows a skull and reads in bold font, “Nazi Verecke.” “To be continued www.instagram.com/mipochka”
“Even if it did not seem that way at first.” Michaela is at a hostel welcome desk. The attendant says, “Checkout is 9 A.M. Breakfast 7-8 A.M.” Michaela asks, “Do you have lockers?” “After they kicked me out life actually got easier. At the youth hostel I was the only guest, so I could spread out a little. I was now in the center of Wiesbaden, instead of their distant high-rise suburb. I could focus.” Michaela stands outside of the Landesbibliotek. “It was peaceful.” People whisper at long library tables. Michaela is studying at a library desk. “As a topic for my thesis one place that stood out was the so-called ‘Hadamar Euthanasia Center’ - mere steps from where Helmut - my adoptive father - grew up. Hadamar was the site of a ‘murder factory,’ a psychiatric hospital where more than 15,000 perished.” The inside of a gas chamber, with no shower heads or drain. “The victims included disabled and handicapped people, ‘chronic patients,’ and P.O.W.s.” A cemetery surrounded by rolling hills and houses. “Hadamar was part of an operation called ’T4.’ It was a precursor to the mass killing of Jews. Its bosses were sentenced to death in an American trial in Wiesbaden in October 1945 but many employees - local drivers, nurses, typists - got off.” Newspaper clippings read, “20,000 slain in Nazi House of Shudders,” and, “Doctors killed ‘undesirables.’” A book titled, “War Crimes Trials the Hadamar Trial” by Hon. Robert H. Jackson, Vol. IV. “Many in the region got paychecks from the asylum. Armgard Huber, the former Headnurse, was released in 1952 and lived in Hadamar until her death in 1983, unbothered. Helmut and Marlies had relatives in each of the little villages between Hadamar and Limburg. They knew every family name and who belonged to which hamlet. Helmut’s sister lived in Offheim all her life. A half-hour walk from Hadamar. But they knew and felt ‘nothing’ and said I was asking the ‘wrong people.’” Helmut’s sister says, “Never heard of it!” without making eye contact. Marlies says, “You can’t know some things.” Helmut, covering his eyes, says, “We visited Offheim on Sundays.” “Marlies was a nursing student three miles from Hadamar, in Elz. In 1952, the year former head nurse Huber was released from prison.” Michaela says, “I know you weren’t THERE! But didn’t people gossip?” Marlies replies, upset, “No! Nobody did!” Michaela pushes, “So how about now? How does it make you feel?” Michaela writes in a journal, “So Mama said ‘It’s not my fault.’ this was in Offheim, and she added, ‘I feel nothing.’ ‘I was never in the party.’ ‘Don’t even dream of asking me for a ride.’” Weeks later, on a bus, Michaela thinks, “Sigh! Forgot the flowers!” “It took forever to get to Hadamar by bus. Everyone knew why I was there, even without flowers.” Bus passengers turn in their seat to look at Michaela, with scowls. A man points at a building and says, “It’s up there! But closed today…cough…murmur…Closed.” The buildings along the street all have large watching eyes on them. “I found locked buildings and at the top of a steep hill out of sight behind tall trees, a smaller than expected grass field. And an obelisk with the words, “Man, honor man.” “You could learn more in books and trial records than on site. If I wanted to use interviews in my thesis Hadamar was not a feasible topic.” Michaela lies in her hostel bed, knees on chest, thinking, “It’s still an asylum.” “Back in Wiesbaden, I plunged into the city’s tiny punk scene. I went to one epic show.” Michaela, hair spiked up and wearing makeup, holds a show poster that reads, “23 März 1989, 21 UHR, Zick Zack Wiesbaden,” with an album cover for “Böhse, Onkelz.” “And I documented graffiti.” Michaela photographs a wall that reads, “Türken raus” and “Steh Aufu...Zurück.” She asks a man, “Can you say what it means?” Smiling, he replies, “No idea!” The captions translate the graffiti as, “Turks out” and “Stand up and strike back.” “Anti-Nazi slogans were absolutely everywhere.” A wall is covered in graffiti reading, “Nazis raus!” with people throwing swastikas in trash cans. Anarchist circle-As are also on the wall. A page of graph paper is covered in Michaela’s (cut-off) notes, including drawings of the anti-Nazi graffiti. “I tried to figure out how I felt about the angriest street art. Like this 4x4 in. flyer that was based on ‘Juda Verrecke,’ Hitler’s battle cry, ‘Death to Juda.’ Is that was Helmut and Marlies thought I was saying to them? ‘Death to Nazis’?” A flyer shows a skull and reads in bold font, “Nazi Verecke.” “To be continued www.instagram.com/mipochka”
Published On: July 6, 2024

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