Biographical Log of Michael Furstner - Page 9
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Friday February 1, 2008
(diary, bio, Martinshof, computer, food)
Martinshof - 4
continues from January 31
Early in the morning I send my weekly email lessons (Blues Basics this
week) to various students around the world, then head off to 'Bob Jane T-
Marts' for a wheel alignment and two new front tyres. As I wait for this I
complete my previous day's blog and photo and upload them online, using the
wireless modem of my new LG mobile phone. It works really well and uploads
quickly. I am very happy about this, for it will allow me to upload files
from virtually anywhere in Australia without a problem. The Telstra Next
G network may not be that bad as I earlier thought after all. The
Federal Government has requested Telstra to keep their CDMA network going
until the end of April, for there are still poor reception issues in the
bush.
When I get home from my usual lunch at the Mooloolaba Surf Club a Christmas
card from Mevrouw de Jonge has arrived. What a coincidence, I just
put a photo of her and all the other Martinshof personnel online a few hours
ago.
She and I worked together very hard at the end of 1981 to set up our
Martinshof business accounting system onto a new Toshiba mini
computer (PC as you call them now). It was one of the very first 7 PCs
ever to be sold in Holland and I had managed to get hold of one of
these. The mini computer operated on two 5.25 inch floppy discs and had a
complete small business accounting system on it, fully translated by Toshiba
into Dutch, absolutely marvelous. After just 6 weeks we had all our customer details and
outstanding invoices transferred onto it. This was all manual input from
paper to digital. We both were most excited when our first full week of
invoices effortlessly rolled from the printer.
After her retirement Mevrouw de Jonge and her husband moved to
Monnikendam where they still live. You can find it on this map. It is near the top
left corner, opposite the island 'Marken'.
In the evening Babette arrives from Brisbane with the main
ingredients for our Sashimi evening meal. Sometimes on a Friday she pays a visit to
the specialist Japanese fish monger and today she has bought tuna,
salmon and the most delicious scallops, freshly caught this morning. These
fish never ever taste as good as the Japanese eat them : raw !
Babette also brought some Wakame salad (seaweed with sesame oil), and Doug
cooks the Koshihikari rice as usual to perfection : soft and sticky. We have
a real feast. After the meal we relax and make a joint decision to watch
As Good as it Gets with Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt on DVD. This is
indeed as good as a movie ever can get. I must have watched it at least 3 or
4 times but never tire of it. We retreat to bed after it, as always with
tears in our eyes.
Martinshof
continues on February 2
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Saturday February 2, 2008
(diary, bio, Martinshof, diamonds, gold)
Martinshof - 5
continues from February 1
Henny
Everts
Although we handed our family business Martinshof over to JPC now 25
years ago, I still exchange Season greetings every year with some of the
staff old timers. Today I receive an email from Riet Everts, Henny's
wife. Henny unfortunately is suffering from Alzheimer, but is well cared
for.
joined our Company as an engraver in January 1964, only a few
weeks after I emigrated to Australia. Before my departure and after I had
left the Army (late August '63), I helped out for a few months in the
atelier engraving wedding rings. I also calibrated the machine we used
with marks on one of its posts to set correct letter sizes for the various
ring widths. 15 years later when I took charge of the business, Henny
proudly showed me the machine. My marks were still on it, and he had used
them successfully for all those years. It was a nice moment for both of us,
and created a small bond.
Soon after Henny's arrival he was
sent to Idar Oberstein in Germany where he was instructed and
trained in the skill of diamond setting. This enabled my father to
import his gold rings without the diamonds, buy stones directly from the
Diamond Bourse in Brussels, and in the process reduce his cost price
considerably. Henny upon his return to Martinshof became a slow but
meticulous and outstanding diamond setter. Every jeweler in the country
would immediately recognise the diamond rings he had set. They became much
in demand by our top clients, as they were in a class of their own, way
beyond anything else available. In due course the young Harry Harberts was
added to the atelier staff, initially as an engraver. But he too did the
diamond setting course in Idar Oberstein and also became a very competent
diamond setter, maintaining the high quality standard of the Martinshof
products.
During my time with Martinshof (1981-83) and to relieve
the work pressure on Henny and Harry, I used on a few very rare occasions
a good freelance diamond setter. I can't recall his name at present, but do remember that he was commited to a wheel chair and that his work was a most important aspect of his life. He told me he was absolutely amazed and
delighted by the outstanding quality of the gold we used. "It cuts and curls as smooth as butter" he said.
Most of the other stuff is a bloody nightmare, it is
brittle and breaks off so easily."
We imported all our quality rings from the Niessing Company, located
in Vreden, only 45 kms East of us across the border in Germany. The
metallurgical recipe for their gold is now over 150 years old and the most
closely kept secret of the Company. Indeed, even for a layman's eyes like
mine, you can see the difference and you can feel it. They are at the
absolute top of their profession and complement the quality of their
material with outstanding cutting edge designs I marvelled at every time
something new came out.
You will hear more about my experiences of those days in
due course, there is so much to tell. But for now I must join the others on
the ThreePonds rear deck, otherwise I miss out on those delicious mussels
Babette has prepared for us tonight.
Martinshof
continues on April 6, 2009
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Sunday February 3, 2008
(bio, Army Assen, Iron Curtain, Germany)
My ARMY days
4 (Final) continues from January 30 (1964-65)
Besides my official functions in the Army I also have an important social
one. Soon after arriving in Assen I am appointed Mess President in the
Field, in charge of the Officers field mess whenever we are on exercises
within our Country. During exercises on foreign soil (mainly Germany) a
professional officer (instead of a reserve like me) is mandatory for that
function. This job is quite fun. I am in charge of a three ton truck, a
driver and two mess servants. The truck contains a large mess tent, folding
tables, chairs, table cloths, plates, cutlery, glasses and a suitable
quantity of alcohol, soft drinks and nibble foods. The two mess servants and
I jointly purchase the consumables from an Army base mess, then sell them
with a small markup on to the officers. All consumptions go on individual
slates, which I later present and collect from each once we are back in
Assen. We always manage to break even and usually make a small profit which
we share amongst the three of us. During the day I fulfill my normal
operational responsibilities while the two mess servants guard our
"investments". I usually manage to get back early, often to go out again and
purchase fresh supplies. At night I stay in the mess until the last
customer leaves, which on occasion can be at 5am. Most nights I sleep on a
table in the mess tent, right on top of our precious supplies, for the
saying goes that "The Cavalry may be the Queen of the
battle, but the Artillery is the King of the bottle !"
We regularly go on exercises in Germany, sometimes on our own, sometimes in
combination with other NATO country Army units. The Artillery exercise area,
called Münsterlage, is located in the Southern half of the Lüneburger Heide, North
of Celle. Celle has a Duty Free US Army store which we are
allowed to use, and always do to load up on cheap perfumes, alcohol, etc. to
take with us back home. The Artillery area itself has a shooting target
pit in its center with plenty of ground surrounding it for shifting battery
positions around and for base camp areas. On its Eastern side the area
extends right up to the Iron Curtain, a 150 meters wide zone that
cuts through the forest. All trees and bushes are cleared, like an super
wide Australian fire break, and a high barbed wire fence on either side
prevents anyone from entering the bare stripped zone which is densely
mined.
On one of our last trips to this area we set up our base
camp right alongside the Iron Curtain. One day we conduct a 36 hours non
stop exercise through continued rain. We are all wet and miserably cold
when we get back to camp. I change clothes and enter the Officers Mess tent.
My friend Potter is there and we start drinking together, Pimms
Nr.1 with something added to make it "a bit more potent".
Potter, a Reserve Officer like me, is in charge of maintenance of the Afdeling's entire
car fleet, a massive collection of over 100 trucks, jeeps, etc. He really
has his work cut out and is doing a terrific job, as is recognised by all.
Tonight, as the Pimms cocktails start to take effect, Potter and I are not just
friends, no we have become brothers, and we should have more brothers we
both agree. There must be more potential brothers around, here but also those
poor buggers on the other side of the fence! I am not sure what our
motivation was, to fight or to befriend them, but at around 2am we leave the
Mess tent and stumble arm in arm towards that high Iron Curtain fence and start to climb
it. We must be making plenty of noise, for it wakes up my Guardian
Angel, the Opper Wachtmeester (= Artillery Sergeant Major) of the S3
staff. I always looked after him, and he after me. These are the vital
protective connections one builds up in institutions like the Army. The
"Opper" gets out of his tent and sees us hanging there, halfway up,
entangled in the barbed wire. He plucks us off the bloody fence like a pair
of over ripe cherries and puts us to bed. The next morning, bleary eyed, I
thank him. He just smiles, says not a word.
Finally I reach
the end of my service. A few weeks before all Reserve Officers from our SROA
class that have survived, meet up together for our Commissioning
ceremony. We have a choice of either swearing or promising allegiance to
our Dutch Queen. I make my promise.
Afterwards there is a reception in the Historic Artillery Officers
Mess on our shooting grounds Oldenbroek (near Ermelo). Amongst the many
familiar young faces around me, an older Officer I recognise approaches me.
It is Major Waterman who interviewed me
21 months ago as a recruit in Ossendrecht. "Congratulations Lieutenant Furstner, you made it" he
says while we shake hands. "You know, it is quite
remarkable," he continues, since we last met
almost 2 years ago, I have interviewed about 3000 recruits like you. I have
forgotten all of them. But you, I will always remember!". We share a
drink on that. How vain we are. Because of his kind and so very
flattering words, I will never forget him either.
PS
After just under 3 years, when I was in Australia, I was automatically promoted to First Lieutenant in the Artillery. I found amongst my papers the Official Notification of that fact. Those Reserve Officers that resided in the Netherlands were in due course called up for a 6 week refresher course, after which they were promoted to Captain. Unfortunately I remained overseas and was therefore unable to attain that rank.
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Monday February 4, 2008
(diary, new camera)
For days we have had intermittent heavy rain showers and the washing is
building up. It is impossible to dry it on the line at present. Otherwise
the weather is quite pleasant. Everything looks green and fresh, and you can
hear the ThreePonds waterfall bubbling away contently in the near
distance. It is an exiting day for me today. I go shopping for a new
camera.
Last year I purchased a Casio Exilim 7.2 Megapixels camera. I have
been quite pleased with it throughout my boat trip and travel through
Europe. All pictures on this Blog so far have been made with it. It takes
quality pictures and with its small size I have carried it in my pocket most
of the time. However technology has progressed and you can now purchase
a small size camera with 12 Megapixels for less than AUD $600 here. I shop
around and end up at 'Camera House' in Maroochydore, where I buy a new
Nikon Coolpix. It has 12.1 Megapixels and a terrific Macro mode
capable of taking close ups from just 6 cm distance.
Have a look at this shot (and no, I am not a
Buddhist). I have taken this pic from a mere 10 cm distance. The Buddha is
barely 3 cm high, and just look at the detail !.
The beetle is an old friend who somehow has accompanied me throughout
my life. I got it as an inconsequential gift when I was a child, and has
traveled with me ever since until it finally landed here on a shelf in
ThreePonds.
The Buddha was, secretly and purposely, left in a jar in my car a few
years ago by a visiting friend (later referred to as "Bud", for Buddha Girl), where I was much surprised to find it a few
days later. She probably felt that an atheist like me needed a
powerful friend in a high place when the time comes.
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Tuesday February 5, 2008
(bio, war, mother, public opinion, personality)
It is 1945, autumn in Holland, the War is over. The constant fear has been
replaced by the most luxurious experience of peace and freedom. But for me
(and in due course my younger sister and brother) there is also a new issue
to deal with.
I am 8 years old and back at school, but the premises of my school (the
J.A. de Vuller School) are occupied by Public servants, distributing
food ration cards and carrying out other administrative functions. Us
children are therefore temporarily accommodated in makeshift class rooms such
as garages and the local church. I am at the Oldenhof, located in the
center of the village (Gorssel), diagonally across from the local Municipal
building. It is a large square building, normally functioning as an old
peoples home, on very spacious grounds with a wide lawn in front, trees on
either side and behind the building.
I sit in my bench in one of the class rooms, waiting
with apprehension for the bell announcing the recess period. When it rings,
all others race out of the room while I am slow and the last one to
leave. A central, straight, narrow corridor runs through the entire length
of the building. The front door is locked permanently, with the only way out
to my left at the rear. I step outside and see my mother, only
30 meters away. She stands behind a barbed wire fence which surrounds a few
low buildings that serve as a temporary women concentration camp.
She is German, therefore a traitor and is serving an 18 months prison
sentence.
She beckons me with her hand and I walk up to her, feeling a
hundred pairs of eyes from school mates and teachers burning into my back.
My mother strokes my head, holds my hand as we talk a little. Sometimes she
gives me a piece of fruit or a biscuit, she got hold off when working in the
kitchen. We part and I join my class mates.
Sometimes she is not there. Then I run left and left again around and to
the front of the building. There is a huge beech tree alongside the
front lawn, its trunk at least a meter wide. I stand behind it, out of view,
watching the street in front, but usually to no avail. Most times one of my
friends comes up to me, "Your mother is waiting for you, wants to see you."
he passes on. I obey, run all the way back to the barbed fence and talk to
her. I love her dearly, but it is such a hard thing to do.
Strange as it may seem, these young, vulnerable days have a hugely
strengthening effect on me. I have to deal with two contradictory opinions.
The general public which considers my parents to be bad and traitors, and I
who knows them to be good, generous, and very brave. By the time I am 9
years old I have gained an important wisdom many people and especially
public opinion never seem to understand : There is not a single
issue on earth that can be considered and judged in isolation.
This new awareness in me in due course becomes the basis for a life long
skepticism of (and sometimes even contempt for) public opinions, and the foundation
for an unshakeable belief in myself.
I also, at that young age, develop compassion for struggling
individuals, for I have been there and know how it feels.
Over the years I have kept a nagging feeling that I
let my mother down those early days. Only very recently I have come to
realise I did not. For every single time she needed me, summoned me, I did
come to her, held her hand and spoke to her. I feel that I did let someone
down however : myself. But being a small vulnerable boy at the time, I can
easily live with that.
The last time I looked, in 1989 (visiting Holland for my mother's funeral)
the beech tree was still standing there.
July 2008 : I have checked up on the beech tree at De Oldenhof. It is gone, but a new young tree has been planted in its place.
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Copyright © 2008 Michael Furstner
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