My family’s history is quite diverse, as my ancestors originated from both Germany and Italy. My father was born in the Chicago area, while my mother was born and raised in the Frankfurt, Germany area. My father’s strong genes come from the island of Sicily in southern Italy. When my parents came together, a rich blend blend of two different cultures came together. While two different histories exist, they shaped me as I have grown up and have become a great source of pride in my life.
I do not prioritize the different sides of my family, but I definitely feel differently toward each half of my family. I feel it is easier to connect with my mother’s side of the family, as I have dual citizenship with Germany. This makes it easier for me to identify as German. Additionally, my father is of both German and Italian descent, so there come more complicated histories with which I must associate. Therefore, I feel it is easier to associate with my German side.
For the sake of flow, it is important to begin with my father’s ancestors. My grandfather, Norbert Schroeder, was born in 1930, not far from Green Bay, Wisconsin. His grandparents immigrated to the United States in the late nineteenth century from Prussia, a former state of the German Empire located in what is now present-day Poland. My great grandmother Laura Ness, a single mother, raised my grandfather—my great grandfather was never part of my grandfather’s life. My grandfather was never educated beyond his second year of high school. Because of cultural and societal norms, he began working at a young age before relocating to Chicago, Illinois, where he eventually met my grandmother, Evangeline Schroeder (née Alaimo). Norbert joined the Army in the 1950s in an effort to support American forces during the Korean conflict. Upon returning home from Korea, he began working in the steel mills of Chicago’s south side. He was very good at his work and was offered many opportunities to advance into management positions, but he never accepted these positions, as he did not wish to feel superior to his colleagues. This marked him as loyal to those close to him.
My grandmother, Evangeline Schroeder (née Alaimo), was born to Mario and Damiana Alaimo in 1931 in Calumet City, Illinois, a community immediately south of Chicago. Mario and Damiana emigrated from Sicily, Italy following the end of World War I, in 1920. The immigrated to the United States at Ellis Island, New York, and remained in New York for a few years until eventually relocating to the Chicago area in 1923. With all of their children attending school, my great grandparents, namely Damiana, valued education. Damiana was a member of the parent-teacher association in Calumet City and she saw to it that all of her children received some sort of education. Even though education was extremely important, my grandmother did not attend college; she did, however, graduate from high school. She began to work with interior design, and she made a living working in furniture stores in their home design departments.
My father was born in 1955, after my grandfather returned from Korea. He was born in Hammond, Indiana, but after my grandfather quit his job in the local oil refinery and began working in Chicago’s steel mills, the family relocated to Calumet City, Illinois, my grandmother’s hometown. Calumet City was, at the time, a rough blue-collar township made up mostly of people of Polish and Italian descent. Most people were destined to work in steel mills for the rest of their lives, but my father took a different path. He and his brother, my uncle Tom, both excelled in academics and athletics. My father played basketball and baseball. Even though he was not good enough to receive a college athletic scholarship, he was able to play against future NBA and MLB stars. In the end, his academic talents earned him a place in the freshman class of 1973 at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana. He graduated with a degree in engineering and immediately began working at John Deere in Moline, Illinois. In the 1980s, he returned to the Chicago area, where my grandparents supported him as he worked to earn his MBA at the University of Chicago. He eventually moved to Los Angeles, California, where he would meet my mother, Maria.
My mother’s story is completely different than that of my father. Maria Schroeder (née Langer) was born to Editha and Karl-Heinz Langer in 1959 and raised in Darmstadt, a city located about fifteen twenty miles south of Frankfurt, Germany. My Opa and Oma (German for grandpa and grandma) were displaced to Darmstadt following Word War II, even though plenty of their family members resided there. Both of my grandparents were born in the former German state of Silesia, which is now a Polish state. My oma was a trained tailor, while my opa received a college education. However, their life goals were put on hold as a result of World War II. My opa was forcefully drafted into the Nazi army, and my oma was drafted by the Red Cross as a combat nurse. Karl-Heinz was deployed to Normandy, France, while Editha was sent to treat soldiers on the Russian front. My opa was captured by American forces following the Allied invasion of Normandy in 1944, but because of his college education and English language, he was spared from performing manual labor in the heat of southern France as a prisoner of war. Instead, he served as a secretary for an American sergeant until being released about three years after the end of the war in Europe. Meanwhile, Editha’s efforts were focused on fleeing the Russian Red Army as it advanced westward towards Berlin. Ironically, her best opportunity to safely return to Germany was to ride in cattle cars which had previously been used to transport Jews to concentration camps. Every now and then, my mother reminds me of a story about my oma’s return to Germany in the cattle cars. It was a cold night, and my oma did not have a blanket. However, an old woman had one and offered it to her, telling her that she was too old and that my oma was young and had a whole life to look forward to. This generous old woman froze to death before the cattle car arrived in Germany.
My oma and opa had three children together—Hans-Christoph in 1947, Ursula in 1950, and finally, my mother, Maria, in1959. Education was taken very seriously in their household. Additionally, my oma and opa were strict Catholics; life was to be taken seriously and there were plenty of rules set in place to ensure no trouble was caused. This was not always the case, though; my mother’s brother frequently got into trouble and on one occasion he hitchhiked all the way to Italy after telling my grandparents he was taking a trip to visit a girlfriend in Ulm, a city in Bavaria. My aunt Ursula enjoyed going to parties and being with her friends, the normal activities a young person would take part in. My mother was the same way once she came of age. Still, even though they had grown old enough to make their own decisions, my grandparents were still rather strict.
My mother is by far the most academically decorated from her family. The German school system is quite different from ours; at a young age, students decide whether they will attend college preparatory school or enter into a trade school to learn a profession immediately. My mother took the rigorous college prep option. She excelled in school and graduated second in her class. She attended the Universität Mainz, where she majored in American studies. Upon her graduation in the 1980s, she received a sizeable scholarship to pursue a master’s degree at an American university; she ultimately enrolled at Sacramento State University, where she eventually received her master’s degree. She later moved to Los Angeles, California, where she met my father.
I do not prioritize the different sides of my family, but I definitely feel differently toward each half of my family. I feel it is easier to connect with my mother’s side of the family, as I have dual citizenship with Germany. This makes it easier for me to identify as German. Additionally, my father is of both German and Italian descent, so there come more complicated histories with which I must associate. Therefore, I feel it is easier to associate with my German side.
For the sake of flow, it is important to begin with my father’s ancestors. My grandfather, Norbert Schroeder, was born in 1930, not far from Green Bay, Wisconsin. His grandparents immigrated to the United States in the late nineteenth century from Prussia, a former state of the German Empire located in what is now present-day Poland. My great grandmother Laura Ness, a single mother, raised my grandfather—my great grandfather was never part of my grandfather’s life. My grandfather was never educated beyond his second year of high school. Because of cultural and societal norms, he began working at a young age before relocating to Chicago, Illinois, where he eventually met my grandmother, Evangeline Schroeder (née Alaimo). Norbert joined the Army in the 1950s in an effort to support American forces during the Korean conflict. Upon returning home from Korea, he began working in the steel mills of Chicago’s south side. He was very good at his work and was offered many opportunities to advance into management positions, but he never accepted these positions, as he did not wish to feel superior to his colleagues. This marked him as loyal to those close to him.
My grandmother, Evangeline Schroeder (née Alaimo), was born to Mario and Damiana Alaimo in 1931 in Calumet City, Illinois, a community immediately south of Chicago. Mario and Damiana emigrated from Sicily, Italy following the end of World War I, in 1920. The immigrated to the United States at Ellis Island, New York, and remained in New York for a few years until eventually relocating to the Chicago area in 1923. With all of their children attending school, my great grandparents, namely Damiana, valued education. Damiana was a member of the parent-teacher association in Calumet City and she saw to it that all of her children received some sort of education. Even though education was extremely important, my grandmother did not attend college; she did, however, graduate from high school. She began to work with interior design, and she made a living working in furniture stores in their home design departments.
My father was born in 1955, after my grandfather returned from Korea. He was born in Hammond, Indiana, but after my grandfather quit his job in the local oil refinery and began working in Chicago’s steel mills, the family relocated to Calumet City, Illinois, my grandmother’s hometown. Calumet City was, at the time, a rough blue-collar township made up mostly of people of Polish and Italian descent. Most people were destined to work in steel mills for the rest of their lives, but my father took a different path. He and his brother, my uncle Tom, both excelled in academics and athletics. My father played basketball and baseball. Even though he was not good enough to receive a college athletic scholarship, he was able to play against future NBA and MLB stars. In the end, his academic talents earned him a place in the freshman class of 1973 at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana. He graduated with a degree in engineering and immediately began working at John Deere in Moline, Illinois. In the 1980s, he returned to the Chicago area, where my grandparents supported him as he worked to earn his MBA at the University of Chicago. He eventually moved to Los Angeles, California, where he would meet my mother, Maria.
My mother’s story is completely different than that of my father. Maria Schroeder (née Langer) was born to Editha and Karl-Heinz Langer in 1959 and raised in Darmstadt, a city located about fifteen twenty miles south of Frankfurt, Germany. My Opa and Oma (German for grandpa and grandma) were displaced to Darmstadt following Word War II, even though plenty of their family members resided there. Both of my grandparents were born in the former German state of Silesia, which is now a Polish state. My oma was a trained tailor, while my opa received a college education. However, their life goals were put on hold as a result of World War II. My opa was forcefully drafted into the Nazi army, and my oma was drafted by the Red Cross as a combat nurse. Karl-Heinz was deployed to Normandy, France, while Editha was sent to treat soldiers on the Russian front. My opa was captured by American forces following the Allied invasion of Normandy in 1944, but because of his college education and English language, he was spared from performing manual labor in the heat of southern France as a prisoner of war. Instead, he served as a secretary for an American sergeant until being released about three years after the end of the war in Europe. Meanwhile, Editha’s efforts were focused on fleeing the Russian Red Army as it advanced westward towards Berlin. Ironically, her best opportunity to safely return to Germany was to ride in cattle cars which had previously been used to transport Jews to concentration camps. Every now and then, my mother reminds me of a story about my oma’s return to Germany in the cattle cars. It was a cold night, and my oma did not have a blanket. However, an old woman had one and offered it to her, telling her that she was too old and that my oma was young and had a whole life to look forward to. This generous old woman froze to death before the cattle car arrived in Germany.
My oma and opa had three children together—Hans-Christoph in 1947, Ursula in 1950, and finally, my mother, Maria, in1959. Education was taken very seriously in their household. Additionally, my oma and opa were strict Catholics; life was to be taken seriously and there were plenty of rules set in place to ensure no trouble was caused. This was not always the case, though; my mother’s brother frequently got into trouble and on one occasion he hitchhiked all the way to Italy after telling my grandparents he was taking a trip to visit a girlfriend in Ulm, a city in Bavaria. My aunt Ursula enjoyed going to parties and being with her friends, the normal activities a young person would take part in. My mother was the same way once she came of age. Still, even though they had grown old enough to make their own decisions, my grandparents were still rather strict.
My mother is by far the most academically decorated from her family. The German school system is quite different from ours; at a young age, students decide whether they will attend college preparatory school or enter into a trade school to learn a profession immediately. My mother took the rigorous college prep option. She excelled in school and graduated second in her class. She attended the Universität Mainz, where she majored in American studies. Upon her graduation in the 1980s, she received a sizeable scholarship to pursue a master’s degree at an American university; she ultimately enrolled at Sacramento State University, where she eventually received her master’s degree. She later moved to Los Angeles, California, where she met my father.