BERLIN

It was March 20th, and I was reunited with Fred and the rest of the Trade Mission at the customs gate in Frankfurt. As we flew over East Germany and into West Berlin, I was both excited and afraid of the place that had ruled my childhood with “drop-drills,” national emergency sirens every Friday morning at 10:00AM (in Southern California, these sirens had continued into the ‘70’s), and the general threat of a Communist take-over.

Flying over Berlin, I could see The Wall snaking its way through the countryside, forming a very white, crooked circle – no -- a polygon. I couldn’t believe my eyes. This stupid thing was real! The Wall was the most ridiculous structure I had ever seen. It just seemed childish from the air: “This is my half of the room, and that’s your half!” Down on the ground however, it was the most formidable foe I had ever encountered.

I was reminded as I flew over East Germany of the Pan American Pilot who dropped candy to the children in West Berlin after the East German’s had built The Wall and placed an embargo on the island of West-Berliners who were stranded by The Wall. It was Colonel Halvorsen -- the “Candy Bomber,” as he is known -- that made it possible for Pan Am to be the only American airline allowed to fly over East Germany (GDR) into Berlin.

We landed in West Berlin, excited and anxious all at once. We were all tired, but could hardly believe we were there in that historic and very important city. We stopped in between the airport and our hotel at a “Burger King” restaurant, where the men went and foraged for Coca-Cola drinks (traveling always increases the thirst-factor). They were laughing as they returned with drinks in hand – the cokes were warm, and there were no ice cubes to be found. I knew this from my Zurich days, but still found it funny, especially since these sophisticates were totally bewildered by the cultural disdain for cold drinks that the Europeans had always displayed.

After we settled into our hotel rooms (I was bitten by bed-bugs) we congregated to travel over to the Reichstadt. The bullet holes from WWII remained un-repaired as a reminder of why Berlin was divided and occupied. Just down the street was the Brandenburg Gate, where we were given hammers and chisels to do our part in tearing down The Wall. As I hammered away I began to understand what had really been going on behind the scene of my childhood nightmares. The Wall had opened in November, 1989, and the last person to be shot trying to escape from East Berlin was a woman, shot in July, 1989.