This story is one of several about the same main characters. As such I did not provide full background information. Vince Riggio is an American doctor in the United States Air Force, stationed in Germany. His wife is Kim. They have two sons. They met while vince was in medical school in Wisconsin. In other stories, Vince has suffered a serious concussion as well as a possible dissolution of his marriage. That story can be found HERE. In another story his teenage daughter gets in trouble. HERE.
Delft Blue Pottery, by Frank DiBona,
May 12, 2016
Kim and Vince loved
everything about Holland. They loved the landscape. They could see a Dutch
master’s painting out of the window of their car at every turn. They loved the
food: cold cuts, boiled eggs, a variety of breads, and deep rich coffee for
breakfast; the lunchtime sandwiches that resembled American sandwiches but were
different enough to let you know you were not in Kansas. Vince loved the pickled
herring available from street vendors all over the city. Both loved the cities
and towns, the windmills and canals, the shops and restaurants. But most of all
they loved the Dutch people themselves. They were so warm and kind. Vince and Kim loved watching people in the
large squares, walking and riding bikes, chatting and drinking coffee or dark
beer, while reading newspapers or engaged in animated conversations. They spoke
a language, Dutch, which foreigners would never learn. So the Dutch all spoke
several languages and spoke them well. The average adult knew one or two languages,
in addition to their own.
They found the
Dutch to be very helpful and accommodating to tourists. On their first trip to
Amsterdam they arrived late on a Friday evening without hotel reservations. They
had been told that the tourist bureau (VVV) maintained an office, right next to
the central train station, to help visitors find hotels. But they couldn’t find
the train station. They parked their car and were walking around, scratching
their heads, when a middle aged Dutch man approached them to ask them if he
could help them. When he found out what
they were looking for he ran to his car, a block away, and came back with a
better map than they had and gave it to them. On the map he marked where they
were and where the train station was and the exact route to take to get there. Vince
offered to pay for the map but he refused.
On
this current trip they were travelling with Kim’s parents, hard nosed American Gothic Minnesotans, Lutherans who hated everything
about Europe in general, and Germany and Holland specifically. Kim’s father,
Gunther Schneider, was of German and Scandinavian extraction. He had fought the
Germans in WWII at the Battle of the Bulge. His memories of Europe were of damp,
muddy trenches, cold feet, tough mutton, and the smell of gunpowder. Kim’s
mother, Hilda, was also from German grandparents and had a deep-seated distrust
of “outsiders.” If you drew a five-mile
circle around Hilda and Gunther’s house, anything and anyone outside the circle
were “outsiders.” These Dutch were completely out. The Schneiders hated the
landscape, even though in many ways it resembled Minnesota. The cattle were not
properly cared for. The fences seemed so flimsy. The hotels had such narrow
steep stairs and the breakfast was cold. Why did they serve cold boiled ham and
hard salami at breakfast? And the coffee was too strong and had grounds in it. They
didn’t like the crowds, with people riding their bikes every which way, almost
crashing into them. They didn’t like people talking to them in stores and cafes
like they knew them.
It was a difficult
trip for Kim and Vince. They expected it to be so but underestimated how bad it
could be. Kim had pressured her parents to visit them in Germany where they
were stationed with the United States Air Force. Her mother had many excuses
not to come. The flight was so long and expensive. Her arthritis would kill
her. She couldn’t sleep on the plane. They had things that they needed to do at
home. But at last they relented and came grudgingly, “to see the
grandchildren.” At Kim and Vince’s home in Traben Trarbach Germany, a dozen
miles from the Air Force Base, her parents expressed how backwards it was that
there was no central hot water heater in the home. They didn’t like they way
Germans drove their German cars, Mercedes, BMWs, and Volkwagens they had never
seen before, with such ferocity. They didn’t
like that some of their favorite TV shows, like Bonanza, were dubbed into
German.
They
had trouble finding places to eat. The Minnesotans found the restuarants too filthy inside and they
couldn’t eat outside, what with all the pigeons landing right on tables. When
they finally found a small café that was not too dirty, the food was just not
American enough. Couldn’t these people just cook a plain old pork roast?
At
the famed Rijksmuseum , the state museum of art, the paintings were too dark,
or too complicated. There were paintings that shows women’s breasts and look at that, Gunther, that one shows a
man’s penis. Don’t children come to
this museum? And some of the famous modern
works of art looked like school children, and not very talented school children
at that, had painted them. At least on that, Kim and Vince could somewhat agree
with them.
At
the Ann Frank House the parents were upset that the entire exhibit was about
the Nazis, the Dutch people, the Jews, and the Franks. Why wasn’t there
anything about the brave American soldiers who saved all of their lives? “Well
not all of their lives, Gunter,” Vince pointed out which resulted in some very
dirty looks from the Schneiders. Gunther added, “And what did the Jews expect
after they killed Christ?”
Kim
and Vince avoided the De Walletjes, the famed red light district of Amsterdam.
On previous visits they enjoyed strolling through the only streets they had
ever seen where prostitution was legal and well regulated. But not with the
Schneiders. They saw sin, lust, decadence, and depravity everywhere in
Amsterdam. They would probably die of stroke if they saw the red light
district. Even so they saw many women who looked like hookers to someone from Minnesota.
And why did people have purple hair and dress like hippies? And what was that
funny smell from the hand rolled cigarettes that they saw people smoking?
So
after three miserable days and three miserable nights in Amsterdam, Kim and
Vince were hopeful that a visit to the small town of Delft might be just what
Kim’s parents would enjoy. Delft was famous for its Delft Blue Pottery, which
had been made there for centuries and was much copied throughout the world. It
was the birthplace of Vermeer, the great Dutch artists whose paintings at the
Rijksmuseum were “not as bad as the rest.” It was also the birthplace of van
Leeuwennhoek, the inventor of the microscope and the father of microbiology.
Surely Kim’s parents would find something to like in this beautiful town, but, if
they did, they kept it to themselves.
Delft,
like most Dutch towns, has a large central square, surrounded by Sixteenth
Century buildings housing shops, cafés, book stores and, of course, outlets for
Delft Blue Pottery. Gunter and Hilda did
seem to enjoy looking in the stores but were outraged and the high prices. “How
do these people afford this stuff?” Never mind that these shops were for
tourists, mainly form all over Europe. Some shops had items of a distinctly sexual
nature, which drew disparaging comments from both of Kim’s parents.
“They have this
stuff out in the open. It makes me feel so dirty,” said Hilda.
Gunter replied
that it was such a shame that so many good American boys had died to save these
sinful people.
The final straw for both of the
Schneiders came when they saw a couple with a baby stroller walking down the
street. The woman was fair skinned and blue eyed. The man looked African,
probably from one of the former Dutch colonies in South Africa. Their beautiful
infant had obviously inherited characteristics from both parents. But to the
Schneiders this was an outrage. See what happens when you let people do
whatever they want? This may have been happening all over the world but not in
rural Minnesota.
It was a relief to
both Kim and Vince to finally get into the car and to start the ride home, back
to Germany. The Schneiders would be leaving for Minnesota in a few days. The
Fiat 128 they owned was average size for cars in Holland and Germany but very
small compared to the ocean liner Lincoln the Schneiders owned. Vince got into
the driver’s seat and Kim into the front passenger seat. Her parents got into
the back to the tune of exaggerated groans. Kim and Vince normally shared the
driving duties but not with her parents, who felt that it was the man’s job to
drive. Traffic in the Delft square was slow moving but once they got onto the
boulevard that would take them to the Autoweg, the main highway, they moved along
at a nice pace. The radio was playing something from the Beatles. They would
soon be home.
About two miles
out of the center of town the traffic unexpectedly came to a crawl and then to
a stop. Vince could see drivers exiting their cars and running to the front of
the line. There may have been an accident.
Vince got out of the car and asked Kim to drive.
“I’m going to see
what’s going on,” he said.
“Get back in the
car!” said Hilda. “You could get into trouble.”
“You’re not going
to go up there, are you?” asked Gunter.
“Let’s just try to
get out of here,” said Hilda.
“I’ve got to see
if there is anything I can do,” said Vince. He joined the others jogging to the
front of the line.
The first thing he
saw was a bus stopped right in the middle of the intersection. He could see the
uniformed bus driver arguing with two other men. They were animated.
Then he saw the
bicycle. It’s front wheel was mangled and it handlebar was at an impossible
angle. He got right up to the bicycle and saw the boy. He looked to be ten or
twelve years old. He was lying on his back. A half dozen people encircled him,
protecting him from any further injury. No one was actually caring for him.
Vince went to the
boy. He knelt at his side and tried to access his status. He could see blood
coming from his left ear, a sign of a possible skull fracture. As Vince put his
hand on the boy’s head several people shouted to him in Dutch. A few put their
hands to the back of their necks indicating that he should not touch him
because the boy might have a broken neck. Vince wanted to be sure he was breathing.
He was not. He checked the boy’s carotid pulse. It was beating about twenty
times a minute. His lips looked as blue as Delft Blue Pottery. Vince needed to
start CPR.
“Does anyone speak
English?” asked Vince.
Several people
said that they spoke a little English.
“I do,” said a
young man holding the hand of a small boy, apparently his son.
“Has an ambulance
been called?”
The man asked
something to the crowd in Dutch and said to Vince, “Someone is calling now.”
Vince put his
right hand under the boys chin and extended his neck slightly to open his
airway. He then breathed ten rapid breaths into the boy’s lungs. He could hear
gasps in the crowd but none from the boy. He then gave the boy about twenty
breaths over the next minute. He then rechecked his carotid pulse and was
gratified that it was now up to about 80 beats. He would not have to do chest
compressions.
Vince asked if
anyone had a blanket or sweater. Two people took off their sweaters and one
woman got a blanket from her car. Vince directed them to roll up the sweater to
place under the boy’s neck and to cover him with a blanket to keep him warm. He
also asked for something to place under his legs to elevate them. He was sure
the boy’s blood pressure was low. All this time he continued to breathe for the
boy and to monitor him for any changes. The CPR continued for about eight
minutes.
Vince heard the
siren before he could see the ambulance. When it was about two blocks away the
boy groaned and coughed. He started breathing on his own. The crowd became
excited. Vince couldn’t tell what they were saying but he knew that they had
witnessed something remarkable and were so happy that the boy was responding.
Vince was able to stop breathing for the boy. The boy’s pulse was a strong 100.
The ambulance
attendants took the boy’s vital signs, which were good. They carefully strapped
him onto a gurney, protecting the boy’s neck, rolled him into the ambulance and
took off.
Vince looked at
his own hands, which were covered with blood from the boy’s ear. He asked the
man who had translated for him if there was some place he could wash his hands.
The man led him to a five story building, a few yards away, that had a national
bank on its ground level. In the bank two guards, who apparently knew what had
happened led Vince to a bathroom. Vince cleaned his hands, splashed his face
with water and used paper towels to dry off. He walked back into the lobby.
“Can some one help
me find my car? I don’t know where it is parked now.”
The English
speaking man said, “Your wife is waiting for you around the corner. I will take
you to her.”
The man grabbed
Vince’s upper arm with his hand and directed Vince out of the building. The
man’s hands were trembling. When Kim saw Vince coming she ran to him and gave
him a hug and a kiss.
“I heard what
happened,” she said. “They told me you saved that boy’s life. I’m so proud of
you.”
“When this sort of
thing happens at work, at the hospital, I just take it in stride. But that poor
boy. The bus must have hit him straight on. He was just lying there and
everyone was worried about his neck but nobody was paying attention to his
breathing.”
Kim took Vince’s
hand and said, “Let’s go back to the car.”
“You drive,” said
Vince. She gave him a smile.
The Schneiders
were out of the car and were quiet. They didn’t say anything at first but as
they were getting into the car Hilda said that Vince had done the right thing
and that both of them were proud of him.
Kim started the
Fiat and was about to pull out into traffic when a man ran up to the car and knocked
on the passenger window where Vince was seated. Vince recognized him as the man
who offered his sweater during the CPR. The man signaled Vince to roll down the
window. When the window was down the man offered his hand to Vince and said,
“Thank you.”
The End.
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