How a deeper knowledge of beer in Hawaii can boost your school career

Newstied – The East Friesland newsletter

Every Friday the most important events of the week in East Friesland.

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I tried to escape to high school.

I hoped to have more freedom there. But back then you needed a recommendation and I didn’t get that.

My East Frisian uncle Warfsmann suspected that it was because nobody in our family had ever gone to a “higher school” and they wanted to keep to themselves there.

He said of himself that he had “given only a short guest performance at school”. Life at sea had taught him what he knew, and a few adventures in different ports had also helped make him a wise man. I learned from him that, unlike Paul Kuhn, who sang it and chanted it in every bar, beer was served in Hawaii. Uncle Warfsmann claimed to have drunk it there, chilled.

I trusted him and he encouraged me to register for an exam. I can’t do more than fail.

“If you can do it, we’ll go to Langeoog together!” he promised.

He lived with us in Gelsenkirchen and liked to dream of the North Sea.

“What if I don’t pack it?” I asked.

“Well, then we’ll go to Langeoog too. That doesn’t help, but at least we’re on Langeoog.”

He could laugh Homeric at his own joke. He gave me so much courage and I tried it.

I was in a different class. Several adults sat in the back and watched us children during several lessons. Everyone looked very serious and educated.

I got along well in math because I had learned mental arithmetic by playing skat and canasta. I was lucky in geography. It was about the North Sea. I was the only one who knew how many islands there are and could list them.

I was supposed to sing something in music class. I tried, “There’s no beer in Hawaii.”

A few of the stern gentlemen laughed. I looked around for them, confused.

“Do you know why we’re laughing?” asked an examiner.

“Yes,” I said, “because that’s a lie.”

So. I passed. Thanks to Uncle Warfsmann.

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