It is still winter, but we have had some warm sunny days lately. I took this picture while returning home from the library a few days ago.
A friend of mine recently moved to Cologne (Köln), Germany (Deutschland). She has been posting pictures, and sending me pictures that she has taken in the short time she has been there. I must admit to a wave of nostalgia sweeping over me when I started looking at those photos. I’ve written before about being stationed in Heidelberg when I was in the military. Some of those memories popped back into my mind.
I decided that rather than just jumping into my writing, I should first go back and look at everything that I had previously posted. I found that a) I hadn’t mentioned Heidelberg in a post for nearly five years, b) one of the few stories I mentioned was about drinking wine with a guy with whom I was stationed, and c) when I did mention Heidelberg it was mainly in relation to music albums that I bought there. By the way, writing about music was originally a focus of Classical Gasbag.
In this post I want to expand on my story about drinking wine with my buddy. As I mentioned before, my friend’s name was, and perhaps still is, Lou. When we were able, and when the weather permitted, we would walk to the student section of downtown Heidelberg, buy a bottle of wine, and cross the bridge to sit on the bank of the Neckar River.
Samuel Clemens, a.k.a. Mark Twain, was said to love the beauty of the Neckar River and Neckar Valley. I agree that the valley is beautiful, but when I was in Heidelberg, the Neckar was one of the most polluted rivers that I had ever seen. Lou and I, however, weren’t as much interested in the river as with the coeds who came to the river bank to work on their tans.
But we also spent the time passing the bottle back and forth while we talked about the state of the world. In our case, the world revolved around the war in Vietnam and rock and roll. We talked about what we would do when we got out of the army. We talked about the girls we had been dating when we were shipped to Germany. And we occasionally talked about politics. I’m sure that our conversation became more profound as we neared the bottom of the bottle.
By the way, the wine we chose was not a wonderful Riesling, but rather a cheap bottle of strawberry flavored wine that Lou introduced into my life. I guess you could say that it was a German version of Boone Farm. What were we thinking?