Mr. Rosenthal: A Werner story
These last months Werner and I are spending much of our time reminiscing. Yesterday I asked, “Werner, do you remember Mr. Rosenthal? I can see him clearly just as he appeared when he rang our doorbell. We must have been about 10.” We both knew why he appeared every couple of weeks.Werner responded, “Yeah, just like you I knew what his visits were about. So many adults think we weren’t didn’t think we knew what was going on but they were dead wrong. Don’t you think kids know a lot more than adults think we do? ”“Werner, we might have been stupid but we weren’t stupid.” The doorbell would ring and Pop (Hugo, our father) would come to the door open it, not bothering to ask who is there. There stood Mr. Rosenthal with his black small doctor’s bag. Pop invited Mr. Rosenthal in. “So nice to see you and the conversation continued in German. Werner and I could overhear and understood what they said. “Werner, we didn’t make a big deal about what would happen next. We knew Pop would do the right thing although he would be crude about it.”Werner knew what I was talking about. “Werner, I think he must have been taller at one time. When we saw him, he was bent over. He looked tired and grey. I bet he once looked happier. He always wore a suit, the same suit. It was worn, frayed in some places. He also smelled musty.”Werner responded, “He looked ok to me and I didn’t smell him being musty and his suit looked just fine.”“Werner, we see different things even though we agree on lots of stuff, especially the important stuff, like the feeling of ‘oh shit, what next, watch out.”We laughed but we also both knew it wasn’t funny. We never really talked about horror shows, the kind if written up wouldn’t contain cartoons. Werner and I watched Pop and Mr. Rosenthal go to the living room and chit-chat about nothing and never talked about the real events in their lives. Pop always thanked him for the visit. After a few minutes, they got down to business. Mr. Rosenthal reached into his black bag and pulled out a couple of cans of tuna fish and placed them on the coffee table in front of them. Pop would say, That’s perfect (“Perfekt und wie viel bezahle ich dir?”…how much do I owe you?)
Mr. Rosenthal mentioned an amount, pop paid him, and shortly thereafter Mr. Rosenthal got up and excused himself. “Mr. Weingärtner, I am sorry I have to rush off but I promised someone else I would drop by.” They shook hands and that was that.
Many months later I asked Pop, “Mr. Rosenthal hasn’t been by in a long time. How come. Did he move?Hugo answered, “It’s a long story but not for now. Go finds your brother and make sure he has done his homework. Tell him, he has to do his homework.” Long after that Werner and I found out what happened to Mr. Rosenthal. It turns out he killed himself. We knew others who did that too.