For as long as I can remember, these somewhat out-of-date brown soup bowls have been sitting in our cupboard. They were always something special, and even though they were no longer in keeping with current fashion, they were never packed away. They'd traveled far too far for that. My parents got married in 1987, and of course, my father's relatives from East Germany were invited. C., a cousin of my father, had to travel alone because his wife and children were to remain in the GDR as "collateral." He had already been offered the option of only working day shifts at his job at the "Schwarze Pumpe" (Black Pump) if he broke off his contacts with the West. But that was out of the question for him. And now he was finally on his way to the West, which he had never visited before. In tow, he had a sports bag containing the wedding present for my parents: clay tableware from the Ore Mountains. A multi-piece set, with everything you need – from salt and pepper shakers to salad bowls. My mother is still impressed by how he lugged the heavy dishes in a sports bag all the way to the Black Forest. My father has since passed away, the GDR is history, but the soup bowls can still be found at every family meal. They are a symbol of family bonds that can overcome walls.
