Welcome to my Life . . . . .
«Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux.» Camus 1942
Name: Werner Ohly
Date of birth: February 1939
Place of birth: Cologne, Germany
Nationality: German
Marital status: Married, two sons
Professional status: "Studiendirektor" (retired)
School education:
Grundschule Rosenzweig, Cologne, 1945 - 49
Gymnasium Kreuzgasse, Cologne, 1949 - 58, "Abitur" (University Entrance Diploma)
Universities:
Cologne University, 1958 - 59, 1960 - 64
La Sorbonne, Paris, 1959 - 60
Study subjects:
"Anglistik" and "Romanistik" (English and French Literature and Linguistics, Spanish), Philosophy, Pedagogy
Degrees:
First State Examination: Master's Degrees in English and French, 1964
Practice-teaching:
Teacher-training Seminar, Cologne: Second State Examination, 1966
Teaching experience:
Jungengymnasium Velbert, 1966 - 67
Gymnasium Rodenkirchen, Cologne, 1967 - 2003
Murchison Junior High School, Austin/Texas: Fulbright Grant (German, French and English), 1970 - 71
Co-curricular experience:
Teachers' library, language laboratory, foreign exchanges, student-and-teacher relations, Japanese club
Student-teacher training:
Teacher-training Seminar, Cologne: "Englisch-Fachleiter" (Trainer of Student-teachers of English), 1973 - 2003
"Hauptseminarleiter" (Student-teacher Trainer for teaching and learning processes, general didactics and methodology), 1995 - 2001
Other activities:
Member of NRW's English Textbook Committee, 1978 - 88
Participant in WORLDNET discussions, 1988 - 92
Grantee of the German Marshall Fund of the U.S.: Washington D.C., Texas, California, Indiana (IU Bloomington), spring 1992
Co-author of NRW's "Guidelines on Training Student-teachers of English", 1994 - 95
Contributor to teachers‘ magazines, communicating the importance and the cultural wealth of Hispanics in the U.S. (Cf. "Publications" on my old Website: archive.is/*.wernerohly.homepage.t-online.de)
Seasons
The wail of sirens, the dark and stuffy bunker, detonations, cries, buildings ablaze, my father’s departure, our flight in crammed trains first to Nenningen and then to Arfurt on the river Lahn, seeking shelter with aunts and cousins, life in the country - paradise?
On a sunny spring morning, my friends and I are on the street in front of our house which is decorated with white linen. We are waiting for the American as my mother and my aunts say. I hear a rumbling that's getting closer, louder and louder. Tanks, trucks and jeeps crawl up the road that ascends from the river - terrific, bombastic, frightening. I freeze when I find myself on a black giant's arm. He passes me a piece of chocolate. I do not understand what he says, but the language of chocolate is like music.
My father is home, breaking into our world. I now have to share Mom with yet another person. Collecting beechnuts soon takes care of our relationship. With a trick, Dad manages to multiply our harvest. We rake tons of forest floor onto a huge, large-meshed screen and shake it well. Small objects pass through and land on a sheet. Leaves, twigs and rocks are sorted out. What’s on the sheet then goes home and into a water trough. Pebbles, sand and soil sink to the bottom. The "full" beechnuts sink too, after a while. Those that float are empty and get discarded. Our harvest at the bottom of the trough is finally weighed and processed at an oil-mill. The extracted oil will see us through the winter, Dad has won the fight.
To my and Willi’s dismay, preparations are made in the fall for our return to Cologne. One half of a freight car will be our home for ten days. There is enough space for us, for our winter supplies and some furniture. Willi comes with me to the train station. I would take Willi along if I could. But his home is here, and who would take care of the chickens and geese?
„Ich möch zo Fooß noh Kölle jonn ..., “ sing the railroad tracks. But the city which the adults crave for means banishment to us kids. The range of pleasures awaiting us for the moment is very narrow. Apart from Christmas, we have the huge ice floes on the Rhine and the chase in the ruins after rats with slingshots and yells, seldom with success.
I am assigned to “grade zero” which lives up to its name. Like other kids I am too late for first grade, and we are served CARE meals and looked after, for a start. When the group grows too big they split it in two. I unexpectedly land in second grade with the message on my slate for Mom and Dad: “Your boy must practice spelling.” I should have wiped off that phrase! What follows is an evil and a pure waste of time. My many prayers do not help either. The evil does not miss the mark, though, and helps me gain admission to Gymnasium Kreuzgasse – a Cologne secondary school – after fourth grade.
Nine more years of school, nine years of Latin, how can you survive? And you never know if you will make it at all. It helps that my classmates are in the same boat, and that I have a life off campus as a sportsman, a boy scout, an altar boy, and a jazz musician.
I begin a pen friendship with John D. in far-away Texas. The address comes from Mister Fröhlich, my English teacher. At fifteen, I am in Le Perreux-sur-Marne on a student exchange organized by a senior student's mother. Only much later do I realize what this exchange means - just nine years after the war. Jean-Luc is three years my junior and speaks even less German than I speak French. But communication works with him and the rest of his family. We just have a problem with the graffiti on many buildings. Why it reads «Sales Boches» all over Paris needs explanation, which is given to us by «Papa et Maman» at the dinner table. Monsieur Prigent also tells us about «la Résistance» and his time in Algiers and London under General de Gaulle. «Et maintenant au lit, Werner Ohly!», he finally says with a twinkle in his eye, and we all laugh. I feel at home in Le Perreux with Monsieur and Madame Prigent, with Mémé, Marie-Odile, Jean-Luc, Pierre-Yves, and Marie-Annick. (Robert Prigent — Wikipédia)
At twenty, I study at The Sorbonne for nine months. I am a second-year student of French and English (literature and linguistics), living with the Prigent family. Jean-Luc is a medical student. Marie-Annick, the youngest of the Prigent kids, will study law years later, and will live with my parents during her year in Cologne.
More than half a century has passed since then. One evening in November - as so many times before - I am standing on the west bank of the Rhine south of Cologne. Memories flow by, leaving their driftwood behind. There are no ice floes on the Rhine any more. I lost touch with my friends Lahn Willi and John D. a long time ago. Our parents, the Prigent parents, Marie-Annick, Mr. Daverkausen, our last advisor, and ten of my classmates passed away. My sister Helmi, Jean-Luc, Pierre-Yves, and the other “boys” of the class of 1958 still share my life. I have family - even in far-away Colorado, Maria’s sister married an American. I have unearthed the treasure of the Chicanos, a literature of inestimable value. I am in good shape, our sons Martin and Benjamin stand on their own feet and, last but not least, Maria is still with me.
July 2007 saw yet another Prigent wedding. Jean-Luc’s youngest daughter, Marie Séverine, got married in Dinard, Brittany. Maria and I did not miss the occasion. Venice in 2008, Tuscany in 2010, Colorado in 2013, Paris in 2014, Rome as well as Benjamin's and Alexandra's wedding in 2015 - all those moments are unforgettable. In 2017, Maria and I spent two weeks in New York City after a nostalgic crossing on Queen Mary 2. In 2018, the "boys" of the class of 1958 celebrated their sixty-year graduation from Gymnasium Kreuzgasse. On Christmas 2019, Maria and I had a great time again in NYC with Benjamin and Alexandra, who live at Battery Place with a view of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Right after our return home, Corona took control - turning our liberty upside down. That could not stop Martin and Olga from getting married in June 2020.
Would I now accept that 1970 offer? Back then, my former high school teacher Dr Daus wanted me for WDR school radio. That same year, I was also offered a "Fulbright" grant, and I went to Austin, Texas, to teach high school.
Germany is peacefully reunified. The arch-enemies of yore, Germany and France, are close and reliable partners in a European Union too often at odds. Does the transatlantic bridge still stand on foundations solid enough to brave all weathers? And how about the "rest" of the world? How about waves of migrants and refugees? Some things are easier today, most things are not. Hard to tell if the world is more livable. It certainly isn’t any safer. And yet - almost eighty years of peace in our latitudes were a silver lining on the horizon. War is now back in Europe.
Perhaps Albert Camus was right after all to leave us this legacy: «La lutte elle-même vers les sommets suffit à remplir un cœur d’homme. Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux.» (Le Mythe de Sisyphe, 1942, conclusion.) “The struggle to the top alone will make a human heart swell. Sisyphus must be regarded as happy.”
Cologne, May 2025
