Wolfgang Hampel and Betty MacDonald in Seattle

Wolfgang Hampel - and Betty MacDonald fan club fans,

Betty MacDonald fan club event voting will be very exciting.

Tell us your favourite city please for International Betty MacDonald fan club event 2016.

My favourite is Seattle.
 
I'll  contribute a Betty MacDonald letter to Betty MacDonald fan club letter collection. 
 
I own a very important letter of Betty MacDonald. 

I wished there was a relative in my family who met Betty MacDonald and Mary Bard Jensen.

However I'll share a very interesting Betty MacDonald letter which was inside a book I bought.

You'll be able to find my Betty MacDonald fan club contribution in Betty MacDonald fan club newsletter October.

I love the Betty MacDonald fan club motto: 

Sail away and find new treasures every day!

That's exactly what Betty MacDonald, Mary Bard Jensen, Alison Bard Burnett,  Mr. and Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle and Wolfgang Hampel did/does.

I had the very same feelings when I saw Betty MacDonald's letter inside the book.

As I adore the Betty MacDonald items by Betty MacDonald Memorial Award Winner Wolfgang Hampel I'm going to forward a copy of the letter for Betty MacDonald biography and Betty MacDonald fan club letter collection.

The subject of Betty MacDonald's letter is her family, friends and favourite authors.

New Betty MacDonald documentary will be very interesting with many interviews never published before.

Join our current Betty MacDonald fan club contest, please.
 
Deadline: December 31, 2015  

You can win very interesting Betty MacDonald fan club items.

Betty MacDonald fan club honor member Mr. Tigerli  shares his autobiography. 

He is a real Casanova but this magical guy got fans from all over the world.

I belong to Mr. Tigerli's devoted fans.

Thank you so much for sharing this witty memories with us. 

Enjoy your new breakfast with Brad and Nick at the bookstore.

Happy Sunday,

Jo

Vita Magica

Betty MacDonald fan club

Betty MacDonald forum  

Wolfgang Hampel - Wikipedia ( English ) 

Wolfgang Hampel - Wikipedia ( German )

Wolfgang Hampel - Monica Sone - Wikipedia ( English )

Wolfgang Hampel - Ma and Pa Kettle - Wikipedia ( English ) 

Wolfgang Hampel - Ma and Pa Kettle - Wikipedia ( French )

Wolfgang Hampel in Florida State University 

Betty MacDonald fan club founder Wolfgang Hampel 

Betty MacDonald fan club interviews on CD/DVD
  
Betty MacDonald fan club items 

Betty MacDonald fan club items  - comments

Betty MacDonald fan club - The Stove and I 

Betty MacDonald fan club organizer Linde Lund 


                                Mr. Tigerli's memories

Copyright 2015 by Letizia Mancino

Translated by Mary Holmes

All rights reseverd 

My birthday! 

I, Mr. Tigerli, can hardly save myself from being submerged in red roses!  Oh dear, a loving cat has his problems.

Surrounded by a sea of flowers!

Mind you I’ve earned it. I have risked so much for love in my life!

I have become famous because of being such a great lover.  I am a Casanova cat.

 Am I exaggerating?  Are there not cats more famous than me, artists who paint or play the piano?

That may be so, but they are “nobodies” in the art of loving!

Look in the internet under “Erotica Felina”! You will see that my name immediately appears on the screen.

People boarding their plane in Singapore have found me at once on Google.

I am a world famous cat.

Oh no, I don’t loose my head over female cats. But women! I love women.  Yes only women. These wonderful creatures give me everything! Not only affection, good conversation and food.

I was four months old when I discovered my partiality for women.

One time I was cavorting on the bed with Roswitha, my first love – although it was strictly forbidden to get onto the bed – when under the woolen blanket I suddenly felt a wonderful soft plump area! Roswitha’s tummy! I was running backwards and forwards across it when suddenly a shot of adrenalin rushed through my cat brain. At an early age I became a slave to love!

But it was Roswitha’s foot that surprised me with my first erotic feelings. She had unknowingly stretched it out of the bed under the pressure of my four paws and for the first time I saw the naked foot of a woman. Five small tempting little sausages attracted my attention. How delicately the points moved. They were more attractive to look at than the mice in the fresh grass. I miaowed to them “I’m going to bite you”!

I understand men who kiss the feet of women so ardently.

I immediately lost my head and my innocence.

Now I began to nibble at these five little porkies.

Roswitha continued to sleep and sighed softly. Encouraged I licked her whole foot. Roswitha laughed sweetly and delightfully in her sleep.

Within eight months I was familiar with her leg.

I love beautiful legs. Without hair, without ticks or other insects. They have such a wonderful perfume. I could lick women’s legs without any saliva. Wonderful!   A refined lover begins with delicate movements, not by taking the female creation by storm. Only goats climb on the back of their females without paying a single compliment. You know, Betty, that a Casanova doesn’t come straight to the point!

Roswitha, I love you Oh, my first love! I felt so good in your bed. I lay at your feet in the night. But after two intimate years deeply in love with your feet, your husband came home. His field service away from home was over, and sadly my home service with you too.

“Get out of my bed”, he shouted. It’s not right to treat a loving cat so rudely, even when men have the right to be jealous of us. We are after all superior to them. We are supple and seductively beautiful until old age. We are not rude or, even worse, drunkards! A woman can spend romantic hours stroking us or even sleep with us in her bed and still believe in platonic love, which is hardly possible for them with a man. Women never become pregnant with us and this has advantages. Casanova was the inventor of the condom. We are the condom.

I was thrown out. Are men all so brutal, Betty? The bedroom door was locked. But I was still allowed to live in the house: three sofas in the living room, a bed in the guest bedroom, and an old divan in the cellar were available for me. Roswitha could come to these. But I was appalled!

Mr. Brummi avoided my dirty looks. Since then I have not befriended men, to say nothing of cats!

Without Roswitha’s feet I had to eke out a miserable existence in the house. And she complained that her feet were cold.

The husband however was obdurate. He tried, without success, to take my place: to stroke Roswitha’s feet, to rub them, to tickle them! But Roswitha’s five little white toes remained in the bed as motionless as if rigor mortis had set in.

There were no more giggles. The doctor recommended an evening foot-bath. To think that I should be replaced by a herbal bath! How outrageous!

Should I have scratched at the bedroom door every night? I am a proud cat! I would rather look around! She wouldn’t have heard me anyway. The husband snores as loudly as a vacuum cleaner on the point of collapse. Should I have dropped five dead mice in front of the door? But I don’t bring her these presents any more. If you love me, I thought, get divorced!

“Darling” I hear her say to her husband, “Couldn’t you snore more quietly?”

I comforted myself with her socks. The dirty ones, naturally. There were a few flakes from her skin that I swallowed with joy. Some men even sniff underwear. Idiotic love. That’s going too far for me. I, Mr Tigerli, don’t do that because I am an aesthetic cat. Gradually I’d had enough of the socks. Should I look for a new woman? The thought of being unfaithful came to me quite suddenly.

The nights in my basket passed peacefully  - and also the nights in Roswitha’s bed. Cold feet and migraines are two passion killers. The husband was sullen. She never suffered with me. I laughed - even if cats can’t laugh – behind my beard and knew that she had remained faithful.  I didn’t. I found the young servant in the house very fascinating. Her legs were not so beautiful as Roswitha’s , but the risks were low. The young woman was a Russian, temperamental, pretty and I liked her. Infidelity was for me a triviality.

“Oh, Mr. Tigerli”, cried Putziputzi  (that was her pet name. I’ll say no more, she had two brothers) “why are you licking me so tenderly?”

I could have answered. “You are my second choice. I am missing Roswitha’s feet.” But I wrapped myself round her leg, as all loving cats do.

She gave an even louder cry and ran away! I was perplexed!

I had no idea that genuine love-play begins with “No, no, I’d rather not, please don’t”.

I still had a lot to learn. Then I thought: Quick , Tigerli, follow Putziputzi and sing her a song! After that wonderful days followed: I showered her soft thighs with delicate little love-bites. It was intoxicating!

We constantly changed the spot we chose for our love-making. On Mondays and Fridays we lay on the three sofas, on Tuesday on the bed in the guest room, but most of the time we spent together in the cellar. She was crazy! Is this sex,

I asked myself. What man can make a woman so happy?

Putziputzi was soon dismissed from her job.

I have no great opinion of husbands and I must admit I have good reasons for this. But that their wives should react with such jealousy was for me an insoluble puzzle.

It wasn’t long before I was lying in bed with Roswitha again.

The husband had probably seen that the loss of a servant can have serious consequences. Now it was his job to vacuum the whole house: from the cellar to the attic. Roswitha assured him this would only be for a short transitional period, until she had found a replacement for Putziputzi.

“Yes, yes!  But the replacement must be ugly and unattractive and she should only work in the house and she must not play with Tigerli”, he answered.

“Yes, yes! I agree”, answered Roswitha, “and it would be wise if you would allow Tigerli to sleep in the bed with me again”.

The husband willingly gave his consent.

He nodded his agreement and it was clear that he saw me in a new light.

I was no longer a competitor.

What the heck, he thought! The guy was sleeping in my bed with my wife when I was away anyway!

So thanks to the vacuum-cleaner I was able to continue my love-affair with my first love Roswitha.

******************************************
       

                      Who is Mr. Tigerli?                             

Wolfgang Hampel and Betty MacDonald in Seattle

Wolfgang Hampel - and Betty MacDonald fan club fans,

artist and writer Letizia Mancino's great Betty MacDonald essay is such a gift for so many Betty MacDonald fans in 5 continents.

We are very happy and grateful to present Letizia Mancino's delightful contribution for our german speaking Betty MacDonald Fan Club fans.

Read and enjoy.

Thanks a Million dear Letizia Mancino

We can't wait to read more of Letizia's great literature.

Take care,

Michael 





Vita Magica

Betty MacDonald fan club

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Wolfgang Hampel - Wikipedia ( English ) 

Wolfgang Hampel - Wikipedia ( German )

Wolfgang Hampel - Monica Sone - Wikipedia ( English )

Wolfgang Hampel - Ma and Pa Kettle - Wikipedia ( English ) 

Wolfgang Hampel - Ma and Pa Kettle - Wikipedia ( French )

Wolfgang Hampel in Florida State University 

Betty MacDonald fan club founder Wolfgang Hampel 

Betty MacDonald fan club interviews on CD/DVD
  
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Betty MacDonald fan club items  - comments

Betty MacDonald fan club - The Stove and I 

Betty MacDonald fan club organizer Linde Lund 
 
Auf Betty MacDonalds Spuren nach Seattle - oder ein kleiner Small Talk mit Betty MacDonald

Copyright 2011/2015 by Letizia Mancino
translated by Mary Holmes  


All rights reserved

Wenn wir im Sommer in Edmonton, Kanada, sein werden, sagte ich zu Christoph Cremer, dann machen wir einen Katzensprung nach Seattle! So war es.

Wir stiegen in Edmonton Airport in ein Flugzeug ein und landeten nach zwei Stunden in der Stadt, wo Betty gelebt hatte. Ich war so froh, endlich Seattle zu sehen, und auf Bettys Spuren zu gehen!

Wolfgang Hampel hatte Bettys alte Freunde in Seattle über unsere Ankunft informiert. Sie waren freudig bereit, mit uns einen kleinen Marathon durch Stadt und Umgebung zu organisieren. Wir hatten nämlich nur wenige Tage zur Verfügung. Wolfgangs Fähigkeit, Menschen schnell sogar in der Ferienzeit zu mobilisieren, ist nicht zu unterschätzen! Zwischen Heidelberg und Seattle wurden E- mails ausgetauscht, und bald war ein ausgereiftes Programm für uns geplant. Kurz vor meiner Abreise überreichte er mir auch Geschenke für die Freunde. Es gelang mir in aller Eile, die schweren Gaben in den Koffer noch einzupacken, doch musste aus meinem Gepäck- wegen Übergewicht - ein Schlafanzug rausfliegen!

Nach der Landung in Seattle fuhren wir mit dem Taxi zum Hotel in der Downtown. Aus Neugier drehte ich meinen Kopf in alle Richtungen, wie ein hungriges Huhn aus Betty`s Farm auf Nahrungssuche! Zum Glück war die Strecke kurz genug, sonst hätte ich ihn wie eine lockere Schraube verloren! Unser Hotelzimmer war im 22. Stock und blickte direkt auf den Highway mit 16 Spuren- sie waren sogar mehr, aber es wurde mir zu schwindelig! Es war ein höllischer Blick! Und dies ist Seattle? fragte ich mich. Ich war entsetzt! Die Raserei machte mich rasend: Der Verkehr rauschte und brauste Tag und Nacht.

Am nächsten Morgen plante ich allein meinen ersten Ausflug auf Betty`s Spuren. Ich breitete die „Seattle tourmap“ aus: Ach, stellte ich fest, die Olympic Peninsula ist viel zu weit für mich! Betty nickte mir zu! Sehr umständlich, Letizia, ohne Wagen.
Ich hätte Deine Hühnerfarm so gern gesehen!
Meine Hühner sind weg und die Berge kannst du aus der Ferne bewundern!

Mamma mia, wie steil sind die Straßen von Seattle! Ich rannte nach unten, ohne es zu wollen! Warum habe ich keine Bremsen an den Schuhen montieren lassen? Ich schaute die Autofahrer an: Wie verdammt gut, dachte ich, müssen sie sein, wenn sie an den roten Ampeln wieder Gas geben! Mir entgegen aufwärts- liefen die Fußgänger schnell wie flinke Lachse! Donnerwetter, diese Amerikaner! Ich versuchte, mein Gleichgewicht zu halten - die Gravitationskraft ist unerbittlich - hielt mich an Gegenständen fest und stieg hinunter. In Kanada hatte mich ein Bekannter davor gewarnt, ich würde in Seattle sehr viele Menschen mit Krücken sehen!
Betty lachte: Kein Wunder, Letizia, Lachs-Fußgänger fallen nicht direkt in das weiche Maul eines Bärs!
Betty, hör mal auf mit deinen gruseligen Bemerkungen! Wir sind nicht im Fichtenheim!
Ich ging weiter. Wie eine kleine verwirrte Ameise am Fuß von Palast- Ungeheuern kam ich zu einer Unterführung.Der Lärm war unerträglich: Gerade über meinem Kopf fuhren auf der Autobahn “ Alaskan Way Viaduct“ Autos, Busse und Trucks in Lichtgeschwindigkeit. Ihre giftigen Abgase pusten sie unbekümmert in die offenen Loggien und begrünten Terrassen der luxuriösen Wolkenkratzer. Amerika! Du bist crazy!
Betty, sind alle Menschen taub in Seattle oder ist es vielleicht ein Privileg für Wealthy-Leute, gegen Langweile Autos so nah vor Nase und Augen zu genießen?
Wenn der Nebel demokratisch alles in das Nichts verschwinden lässt, ist das doch eine kleine Abwechselung, Letizia!!
Deine Ironie, Betty, ist unverbesserlich, aber sag mir, Seattle soll eine wunderschöne Stadt sein, aber wo?
Ich bin endlich am State Ferry Terminal angekommen.
No Madam, die Fähre für die Insel Vashon startet nicht von hier, sagte mir einer am ticket office. Nehmen sie einen Bus und fahren sie zu der Anliegerstelle bei West Seattle.
Betty erklärte mir: Die Insel liegt am Puget Sound und nicht in der Elliott Bay! Sie ist gegenüber dem Airport! Bei der Landung muss du sie gesehen haben!
Betty, bei der Landung mache ich die Augen zu und bete!

Es ist Zeit für das Mittagessen. Das Wetter ist herrlich und warm. Wer sagte mir, es würde hier immer regnen?
Sicher ein neidischer Kerl, der dich von Seattle abschrecken will. Die Stadt ist wirklich schön, du wirst es sehen. Bleibe an der Waterfront, wähle das beste Restaurant mit Blick auf die Elliott Bay und genieße es.
Danke, Betty! Ich nehme Platz auf der Terrasse.
Der Blick auf die Inseln ist herrlich: Sie liegen in der Sonne ruhig wie grüne flauschige Kissen auf dem blauen Wasser.
Betty spielt auch mit meinen Worten: Vashon Island ist ein großes Kissen, noch größer als Bainbridge, die du vor deinen Augen siehst, Letizia! Die Inseln sehen auch sehr ähnlich aus. Sie haben gepflegte Häuser und entzückende Gärten.

An der Waterfront stand einmal das Hotel von den Eltern von Monica Sone!
Ah, von Deiner Freundin, Kimi! Leider vergesse ich, Betty zu fragen: Wo genau? Ich bin zerstreut und denke an meine Bergtour zum Hotel! Warum gibt es keine Esel für Touristen? -Betty lacht: Du schaffst es bestimmt zum Hotel zurück zu laufen: „Letizia kann alles“.
Ja, Betty, ich bin „mein“ Esel! Ich konnte mich aber nicht daran erinnern, dass auch San Francisco so steil gebaut ist. Egal, ich sitze. Der Kellner kommt und bringt mir die Speisekarte: Ich falle fast vom Stuhl! Was, sie bieten hier Geoduck an! Ich muss es unbedingt essen! (Ich gestehe, ich hasse den Tierbrei- schon Betty`s Rezept mit der Zertrümmerung hat mir Ekel verursacht)
Ein Beweis, dass du mich liebst, sagte Betty begeistert zu mir! Geht nicht die Liebe durch den Magen? Ich bestellte Geoduck. Der Kellner schaute mich an: Er will mir Austern empfehlen. - Geoduck: No god for you! Hat er vielleicht meine tiefsten Gedanken gelesen? Schicksal! Dann kein Geoduck. No good for me. Weder Geoduck noch Schwindsucht in Seattle, flüsterte Betty mir ins Ohr!
Ach Betty, beste Freundin, du bist so nachsichtig mit mir! Ich bestelle Feldsalat mit Lachsstücken. Welche Lachse? die die im Wasser schwimmen, oder die durch Seattle rennen? Betty, ich glaube, du willst, dass ich deinen schwarzen Humor koste.
Dann guten Appetit, Letizia! Beim Mittagessen unterhielten wir uns über die Schwindsucht, und das war gerade nicht appetitanregend!
Hast du mein Buch „The Plague and I“ schon gelesen?
Ach, Betty, eigentlich habe ich das Buch zweimal angefangen, zu lesen und zweimal die Lektüre unterbrochen. Ich wurde immer so traurig!
Warum? fragte Betty: Turberkolose hatte fast jeder! Ich bin ziemlich bald gesund geworden und habe 20 Pfund zugenommen! Von Schwinden war keine Rede! Und wie findest du meine Witze im Buch?
Gerade das, antwortete ich, hätte mich veranlasst, ein anderes Sanatorium zu wählen. Ich hätte Angst gehabt, auch Opfer von Deinem Humor zu werden! Ich hätte sicherlich von Dir einen Spitzennamen bekommen! Du hast immer so komische Namen erfunden!
Betty lacht! Stimmt! Ich hätte dich „Römischenase genannt. Ich hätte den Leute „ Urbi et Orbi“ erzählt: „Heute früh ist in Fichtenheim Römischenase eingeliefert worden. Sie spricht ein gebrochenes Englisch, isst kein Geoduck, aber sie liebt Katzen“.
Ach, Betty, ich hätte mich auch geschämt, zu husten! Husten in deiner Anwesenheit? Wie peinlich! Du hättest erzählt, wie ich huste, wie viel huste!
Auf das „wie“ kommt es an, Letizia!
Bitte, lass Goethe Zitate weg! Geräusche zu unterscheiden, hast du sicher von den Indianern gelernt! Unglaublich, wie viele verschiedenen Hustensorten Du unterscheiden kannst! Mindestens 10!
Nur so wenig?
Und Deine Beschreibung der Patienten und Krankenschwestern war auch erbarmungslos: Eine künstlerische Rache! Nicht mal der kleinste Pickel auf der Haut ist deinem scharfen Blick entgangen! Sagenhaft.
Erbarmungslos war ich auch gegen mich selbst! Vergesse nicht meine Selbstironie!
Betty schweigt. Sie denkt an Kimi, die „Prinzessin“ aus Japan! Nein über Monica Sone, die beste Freundin, hat sie nur Gutes im Buch „The Plague and I“ geschrieben! Eine rührende Freundschaft, die im Sanatorium entstanden war: Die Perle, die aus der Krankheit gewachsen war.
Ist es nicht wunderbar, Betty, dass eine Muschel im Meer aus der Überwindung eines fremden Korns, das in sie eingedrungen ist, ein Juwel in ihrem Leib entwickelt?
Betty schaute mich an.
Betty, die Freundschaft zwischen Dir und Monica erinnert mich an Goethes Gedicht Ginkgo- Biloba. Du kennst es sicher! Betty nickte mir zu. Ich begann es zu rezitieren:

Dieses Baum`s Blatt,
der von Osten Meinem Garten anvertraut,
Giebt geheimen Sinn zu kosten,
Wie`s den wissenden erbaut.
Ist es Ein lebendig Wesen?
Das sich in sich selbst getrennt,
Sind es zwey?
Die sich erlesen,
daß man sie als eines kennt?

Die Freundschaft mit Monica ist wie das wunderbare Blatt des Gingo-Biloba, des Baumes aus dem Osten.
Betty war bewegt.
Es war ein tiefes Vertrauen zwischen uns. Sie zerreisst nie, gerade weil sie in der Not, in der Gefahr einer tödlichen Krankheit entstanden ist. Wir haben uns verstanden und ergänzt: Wir waren wie eine Lunge mit zwei Flügeln, eine von Westen und eine vom Osten!
Ein schönes Bild! Betty! Ihr wart wie zwei rote Gingo-Biloba Blätter!
Betty wurde traurig und sagte: Auch wenn Monica, die Japanerin, vor der Bekanntschaft mit mir dachte, sie sei auch eine Amerikanerin. Doch sie wurde in Amerika interniert, Letizia, während des Zweiten Welt Krieges mit Japan, ist es nicht furchtbar?
Betty, ich habe sie nicht persönlich kennen gelernt, ich habe nur eine Videoaufnahme mit ihr gesehen, aber welche Würde in ihrem Gesicht, welche vornehme Haltung in der Sprache und in den Bewegungen! Das Schicksal konnte Monica nicht verändern!
Ja, Betty, auch der Gingo-Biloba in Hiroshima hat nach der Atombombe als einziger Baum wieder geblüht!

Die Rechnung kam und ich bezahlte schnell. In Amerika wird man vom Tisch vertrieben, wenn das Essen verspeist ist. Wenn man weiter plaudern will, muss man wieder etwas bestellen.
Darum werden die großen Schwätzer am Tisch so fett! Sagte Betty!
Hast du nicht gesehen, wie viele unglaubliche riesige fleischige Mülltonnen in Amerika auf Strassen spazieren gehen und nie geleert werden!
Mit diesem typischen unsentimentalischen Satz endete Betty das Gespräch.
Ciao, Meisterin der Wechselbädergespräche, ich winkte ihr zu und wollte auch mich ein bisschen bewegen!

An der Waterfront war es noch so schön, zwei Schritte zu machen! Wenn ich nun wieder in Heidelberg daran denke, dass Bettys japanische Prinzessin am 5. September diese Welt verlassen hat und ich noch im August in Seattle mit Betty über sie sprach, werde ich auch sehr traurig.

Die Leser, die sie gut kannten (jeder Autor und Protagonist eines Buches ist uns näher als der flüchtige Nachbar im Haus), ja wir, die sie als unsterblich empfunden haben, können nicht glauben, dass sie auch mit 92 Jahren sterben würde. Wie unvermutet und überraschend kam ihr Tod nur 4 Tage nach ihrem Geburtstag am 5. September. Gerade am 5. September war ich auf dem Weg in die Türkei, wieder himmelsnah, rückschauend auf die unvergesslichen Tage in Seattle. Ich flog von Westen nach Osten, wo die Sonne aufgeht.

Wolfgang Hampel and Betty MacDonald in Seattle

Wolfgang Hampel - and Betty MacDonald fan club fans,

what a well-written and amusing account of a visit to Seattle!

I have a few additional facts that Letizia Mancino and others might be interested to know. 

Although we no longer live in Seattle, we still visit several times a year and read the newspaper online almost every day.
The Seattle Viaduct freeway is being replaced by a sleek underground tunnel road that will open up much Seattle's cityscape to the waterfront. While the tunnel is being dug, the ugly viaduct is being torn down and closed in sections. The viaduct has long been an eyesore because it has blocked off waterfront views and brought air pollution to the neighborhood. It was also dangerous because it was built on unstable fill dirt and has gotten more structural cracks each time there is an earthquake. 

Seattle and most of the West Coast are part of the Ring of Fire that includes Japan, Alaska, and New Zealand. A park will be created in place of the viaduct and the new waterfront area will slope down to meet Puget Sound. 

It is planned to be a pedestrian area, similar to what San Francisco did with their waterfront when they tore down the Embarcadero Freeway. At the north end of downtown Seattle there is a fairly new sculpture garden with amazing territorial views, built in a reclaimed industrial area. The newest waterfront park will be an extension of that. It's more than time to open up the waterfront to be appreciated for its natural beauty and not its traffic.

Honestly, I never tried geoduck either, during all of the 25 years or so I lived in Seattle. Just looking at one makes me lose my appetite. It looks like the appendage of a horse. People who've had it say it is rubbery anyway, so if you want my opinion, you didn't miss anything not eating it. Yuck!

My nephew attends school at the former Firland Sanatorium, now King's School, a private religious high school and middle school in the Shoreline suburb of Seattle. It still has most of the same buildings that were there during Betty's stay, and a number of newer buildings have been added. There is also a retirement village on campus with separate cottages for the occupants. It's very quiet and peaceful and the grounds have beautiful mature trees and shrubs.

Seattle is a big city with traffic woes, but it still has so much to offer. I never tire of its scenic views with mountains on all 4 sides of the city, sparkling lakes, and the emerald green of the San Juan Islands and Kitsap Peninsula, all covered with trees. I've lived there long enough to know that there is really no suburb or island that has easy access to downtown, due to the natural geography of the area. Even if you live on an island, you live according the ferry schedules. There are lakes and floating bridges and the narrow isthmus of land that downtown Seattle is built on. That narrow isthmus is the biggest reason for its traffic troubles. That, and of course, the area's population. Seattle has been building light rail transit for the past 15 years and it will be "finished" in another 10 or so.
There is nothing that feeds the soul quite like seeing massive Mt. Rainier looming on the horizon at sunrise with pink shades of sun hitting the snow on it, looking for all the world like a giant ice cream cone. There are always mountains, every way you turn. These are REAL mountains with snow on them and jagged peaks, not the "dead brown hills" of Southern California. 

There are 7 major hills in the Seattle area and this makes it easier to see the neighborhoods marching up Queen Anne Hill, for example. I've seen bald eagles at all the lakes; they go where the salmon are. Another visual treat is watching a floatplane take off or land on Lake Union. Sugarplum lights are installed in all the downtown street trees as soon as the leaves fall and stay in until spring when the leaves return. 

Some of my favorite viewpoints for excellent photos are from West Seattle or while on a ferryboat to the Kitsap Peninsula. It's amazing how quickly a ferryboat can take you from the bustle of downtown to the rural, heavily treed islands of Vashon and Whidbey, and many other places besides.

Can you tell I still love Seattle? Always will.

Lorinda

Betty MacDonald fan club fans,

we share a very special gift by beloved and very popular Betty MacDonald Fan Club Honor member Letizia Mancino.

We know you'll enjoy it as much as we do.

Thanks a Million, dear Letizia Mancino.

You are an outstanding writer and artist.

We are so proud and happy to have you with us.

Letizia writes: One should not underestimate Wolfgang Hampel’s talent in speedily mobilizing Betty MacDonald’s friends.

We agree. Thank you so much dear Wolfgang Hampel for doing this. You founded Betty MacDonald Fan Club with four members.

Now we have members in 40 countries around the world. A dream came true.

Mary Holmes did an excellent job in translating this great story. 

Thank you so much dear Mary Holmes. 

We are really very grateful.

All the best to Letizia, Wolfgang and Mary and to all Betty MacDonald Fan Club fans from all over the world!

Lenard 

Vita Magica

Betty MacDonald fan club

Betty MacDonald forum  

Wolfgang Hampel - Wikipedia ( English ) 

Wolfgang Hampel - Wikipedia ( German )

Wolfgang Hampel - Monica Sone - Wikipedia ( English )

Wolfgang Hampel - Ma and Pa Kettle - Wikipedia ( English ) 

Wolfgang Hampel - Ma and Pa Kettle - Wikipedia ( French )

Wolfgang Hampel in Florida State University 

Betty MacDonald fan club founder Wolfgang Hampel 

Betty MacDonald fan club interviews on CD/DVD
  
Betty MacDonald fan club items 

Betty MacDonald fan club items  - comments

Betty MacDonald fan club - The Stove and I 

Betty MacDonald fan club organizer Linde Lund 
 



Following in Betty’s footsteps in Seattle:

or some small talk with Betty

Copyright 2011/2015 by Letizia Mancino
All rights reserved
translated by Mary Holmes


We were going to Canada in the summer. “When we are in Edmonton”, I said to Christoph Cremer, “let’s make a quick trip to Seattle”. And that’s how it happened. At Edmonton Airport we climbed into a plane and two hours later we landed in the city where Betty had lived. I was so happy to be in Seattle at last and to be able to trace Betty’s tracks!

Wolfgang Hampel had told Betty’s friends about our arrival.
They were happy to plan a small marathon through the town and it’s surroundings with us. We only had a few days free. One should not underestimate Wolfgang’s talent in speedily mobilizing Betty’s friends, even though it was holiday time. E-mails flew backwards and forwards between Heidelberg and Seattle, and soon a well prepared itinerary was ready for us. Shortly before my departure Wolfgang handed me several parcels, presents for Betty MacDonald's friends. I rushed to pack the heavy gifts in my luggage but because of the extra weight had to throw out a pair of pajamas!

After we had landed we took a taxi to the Hotel in downtown Seattle. I was so curious to see everything. I turned my head in all directions like one of the hungry hens from Betty’s farm searching for food! Fortunately it was quite a short journey otherwise I would have lost my head like a loose screw!
Our hotel room was on the 22nd floor and looked directly out onto the 16-lane highway. There might have been even more than 16 but it made me too giddy to count! It was like a glimpse of hell! “And is this Seattle?” I asked myself. I was horrified! The cars racing by were enough to drive one mad. The traffic roared by day and night.
We immediately contacted Betty MacDonald's friends and let them know we had arrived and they confirmed the times when we should see them.

On the next morning I planned my first excursion tracing Betty’s tracks. I spread out the map of Seattle. “Oh dear” I realized “the Olympic Peninsula is much too far away for me to get there.”
Betty nodded to me! “Very difficult, Letizia, without a car.”

“But I so much wanted to see your chicken farm”

“My chickens are no longer there and you can admire the mountains from a distance”


But I wanted to go there. I left the hotel and walked to the waterfront where the State Ferry terminal is. Mamma mia, the streets in Seattle are so steep! I couldn’t prevent my feet from running down the hill. Why hadn’t I asked for brakes to be fixed on my shoes? I looked at the drivers. How incredibly good they must be to accelerate away from the red traffic lights. The people were walking uphill towards me as briskly as agile salmon. Good heavens, these Americans! I tried to keep my balance. The force of gravity is relentless. I grasped hold of objects where I could and staggered down.
In Canada a friend had warned me that in Seattle I would see a lot of people with crutches.

Betty laughed. “ It’s not surprising, Letizia, walking salmon don’t fall directly into the soft mouth of a bear!”
“ Betty, stop making these gruesome remarks. We are not in Firlands!”

I went further. Like a small deranged ant at the foot of a palace monster I came to a tunnel. The noise was unbearable. On the motorway, “The Alaskan Way Viaduct”, cars, busses and trucks were driving at the speed of light right over my head. They puffed out their poisonous gas into the open balconies and cultivated terraces of the luxurious sky- scrapers without a thought in the world. America! You are crazy!
“Betty, are all people in Seattle deaf? Or is it perhaps a privilege for wealthy people to be able to enjoy having cars so near to their eyes and noses to save them from boredom?”

“When the fog democratically allows everything to disappear into nothing, it makes a bit of a change, Letizia”

“ Your irony is incorrigible, Betty, but tell me, Seattle is meant to be a beautiful city, But where?”
I had at last reached the State Ferry terminal.

“No Madam, the ferry for Vashon Island doesn’t start from here,” one of the men in the ticket office tells me. ”Take a buss and go to the ferry terminal in West Seattle.”
Betty explained to me “The island lies in Puget Sound and not in Elliott Bay! It is opposite the airport. You must have seen it when you were landing!”
“Betty, when I am landing I shut my eyes and pray!”

It’s time for lunch. The weather is beautiful and warm. Who said to me that it always rains here?
“Sure to be some envious man who wanted to frighten you away from coming to Seattle. The city is really beautiful, you’ll see. Stay by the waterfront, choose the best restaurant with a view of Elliott Bay and enjoy it.”
“Thank you Betty!”
I find a table on the terrace of “Elliott’s Oyster House”. The view of the island is wonderful. It lies quietly in the sun like a green fleecy cushion on the blue water.
Betty plays with my words:
“Vashon Island is a big cushion, even bigger than Bainbridge which you see in front of your eyes, Letizia. The islands look similar. They have well kept houses and beautiful gardens”.

I relax during this introduction, “Bainbridge” you are Vashon Island, and order a mineral water.

“At one time the hotel belonging to the parents of Monica Sone stood on the waterfront.”
“Oh, of your friend Kimi!” Unfortunately I forget to ask Betty exactly where it was.

My mind wanders and I think of my mountain hike back to the hotel! “Why is there no donkey for tourists?” Betty laughs:

“I’m sure you can walk back to the hotel. “Letizia can do everything.””

“Yes, Betty, I am my own donkey!”
But I don’t remember that San Francisco is so steep. It doesn’t matter, I sit and wait. The waiter comes and brings me the menu. I almost fall off my chair!
“ What, you have geoduck on the menu! I have to try it” (I confess I hate the look of geoduck meat. Betty’s recipe with the pieces made me feel quite sick – I must try Betty’s favourite dish!)
“Proof that you love me!” said Betty enthusiastically “ Isn’t the way to the heart through the stomach?”

I order the geoduck. The waiter looks at me. He would have liked to recommend oysters.
“Geoduck no good for you!”
Had he perhaps read my deepest thoughts? Fate! Then no geoduck. “No good for me.”
“Neither geoduck nor tuberculosis in Seattle” whispered Betty in my ear!
“Oh Betty, my best friend, you take such good care of me!”

I order salmon with salad.

“Which salmon? Those that swim in water or those that run through Seattle?”

“Betty, I believe you want me to have a taste of your black humour.”

“Enjoy it then, Letizia.”
During lunch we talked about tuberculosis, and that quite spoilt our appetite.
“Have you read my book “The Plague and I”?”

“Oh Betty, I’ve started to read it twice but both times I felt so sad I had to stop again!”

“But why?” asked Betty “Nearly everybody has tuberculosis! I recovered very quickly and put on 20 pounds! There was no talk of me wasting away! What did you think of my jokes in the book?”

“Those would have been a good reason for choosing another sanitorium. I would have been afraid of becoming a victim of your humour! You would have certainly given me a nickname! You always thought up such amusing names!” Betty laughed.

“You’re right. I would have called you “Roman nose”. I would have said to Urbi and Orbi “ Early this morning “Roman nose” was brought here. She speaks broken English, doesn’t eat geoduck but she does love cats.”

“Oh Betty, I would have felt so ashamed to cough. To cough in your presence, how embarrassing! You would have talked about how I coughed, how many coughs!”

“It depends on that “how”, Letizia!”

“Please, leave Goethe quotations out of it. You have certainly learnt from the Indians how to differentiate between noises. It’s incredible how you can distinguish between so many sorts of cough! At least 10!”

“So few?”

”And also your descriptions of the patients and the nurses were pitiless. An artistic revenge! The smallest pimple on their face didn’t escape your notice! Amazing.”

“ I was also pitiless to myself. Don’t forget my irony against myself!”

Betty was silent. She was thinking about Kimi, the “Princess” from Japan! No, she had only written good things about her best friend, Monica Sone, in her book “The Plague and I”. A deep friendship had started in the hospital. The pearl that developed from the illness.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Betty, that an unknown seed can make its way into a mollusk in the sea and develop into a beautiful jewel?” Betty is paying attention.

“Betty, the friendship between you and Monica reminds me of Goethe’s poem “Gingo-Biloba”. You must know it?” Betty nods and I begin to recite it:


The leaf of this Eastern tree
Which has been entrusted to my garden
Offers a feast of secret significance,
For the edification of the initiate.

Is it one living thing.
That has become divided within itself?
Are these two who have chosen each other,
So that we know them as one?

The friendship with Monica is like the wonderful gingo-biloba leaf, the tree from the east. Betty was touched. There was a deep feeling of trust between us.
“Our friendship never broke up, partly because she was in distress, endangered by the deadly illness. We understood and supplemented each other. We were like one lung with two lobes, one from the east and one from the west!”
“A beautiful picture, Betty. You were like two red gingo-biloba leaves!”

Betty was sad and said ” Monica, although Japanese, before she really knew me felt she was also an American. But she was interned in America, Letizia, during the second world war. Isn’t that terrible?”

“Betty, I never knew her personally. I have only seen her on a video, but what dignity in her face, and she speaks and moves so gracefully!”

“Fate could not change her”

“Yes, Betty, like the gingo-biloba tree in Hiroshima. It was the only tree that blossomed again after the atom bomb!”

The bill came and I paid at once. In America one is urged away from the table when one has finished eating. If one wants to go on chatting one has to order something else.
“That’s why all those people gossiping at the tables are so fat!” Betty remarks. “Haven’t you seen how many massively obese people walk around in the streets of America. Like dustbins that have never been emptied!” With this typically unsentimental remark Betty ended our conversation.

Ciao! I so enjoyed the talk; the humour, the irony and the empathy. I waved to her and now I too felt like moving! I take a lovely walk along the waterfront.

Now I am back in Heidelberg and when I think about how Betty’s “Princessin” left this world on September 5th and that in August I was speaking about her with Betty in Seattle I feel very sad. The readers who knew her well (we feel that every author and hero of a book is nearer to us than our fleeting neighbours next door) yes we, who thought of her as immortal, cannot believe that even she would die after 92 years. How unforeseen and unexpected that her death should come four days after her birthday on September 1th. On September 5th I was on my way to Turkey, once again in seventh heaven, looking back on the unforgettable days in Seattle. I was flying from west to east towards the rising sun.