by Anna Von Reitz
I was six when I came home and blurted, "Marlene Meyer called me a Kraut!"
My Father blew coffee through his nose and sputtered, "Sounds like she's
got a bit of "Kraut" in her, too!"
The emotions were passing so fast on his face I couldn't tell which to
believe: ---anger? ---amusement? ---sadness?
Gentle sadness won. He rocked my curly head with the splayed fingers of his
enormous hand and said, "Jah, you are my little zowerkraut! Wear it with
pride!"
So I did.
