Mary had her spleen removed at what is now called the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, an hour's drive west of Heidelberg. Ken and I were on our own a lot for the first few months. We took a lot of walks in between afternoon and evening visiting hours.
To get to the modern hospital, we passed through the Old World in Kaiserslautern.
Mary's release brightened things immeasurably. We lived in military housing, across the hall from a British family. Mom joined the Columbia Record club and my lifelong love affair with pop music began. The original Broadway cast recording of "My Fair Lady" and movie themes played by Ferrante and Teicher on dueling pianos rarely left the turntable. "Exodus" was my favorite.
Barges loaded with cargo on the Neckar River fascinated Ken. Some came all the way south from Bremerhaven through the locks.
While Mary recuperated, we stuck pretty close to home. She hated being sick but she enjoyed being skinny and chic.
This must be the summer camp where I spent two miserable weeks. No doors on the toilets and somebody stole my stash of DC Comics that Ken & Mary brought on visiting day.
It wasn't long before we were ready to hit the autobahn again and briefly penetrate the Iron Curtain with a frightening visit to Berlin not long after the Soviets erected the Wall.
Alfred, Ken's nephew and another of my adult first cousins came to visit. He was in the Army and stationed in Poitiers, France. I never saw him again, either, although we continue to exchange Christmas cards.
Ken and Mary eventually agreed to get me another dog, a pedigreed poodle whose name was Sergeant Bilko von Reichenstein but we called him Charlie.
