If Grandmamma had favorite grandkids, I never knew. Now that she spends a lot of time in my swamp, she allows me a glimpse of her likes and dislikes now and then. Grandmamma likes my cousin Anneliese. She likes me enough to camp at my doorsteps. Grandmamma reminds me when it is time to call Cousin Anneliese, and sometimes she reminds Anneliese to call me.

Anneliese and I are the offspring of two of Grandmamma's daughters. Seven days and a few hours separate our dates of birth. Anneliese arrived first, on the 7th of December, and I arrived on the 15th. We are as much alike as we are different. Anneliese is compliant, obedient and duty-bound. My aunts referred to her as "Anneliesle (La petite Annelies)." Grandmamma referred to me as "Unkraut"; she'd look at me and smile and say, "Unkraut vergeht nicht! (The indestructible weed)." Anneliese was always neat, never made a mess. I never figured out how to stay clean and neat and out of trouble. What we both loved was music, literature and art.

Grandmamma loved us both. God must have felt the same way. Anneliese and I escaped bombings and the ensuing firestorms. We watched curtains of flames that kept anyone from going in to town and anyone from in town to emerge. Five thousand people died during one air raid. The small town of Bruchsal stood in the way of a big war. Old people, women and children paid the price of victory. Anneliese and I were among the few hundred that survived.

Anneliese and I survived the war. But our similarities and our differences led us to separate paths in life. I went to America and she remained in Germany. She married the man chosen for her, had children, took care of the aging aunts, buried them one by one, watched the country rebuild itself, and voted her conscience every step of the way of life's journey.

I traveled that difficult route from emigrant to immigrant to citizen of a vast nation that offered freedom and democracy. Somewhere along life's journey, I returned to visit my cousin and to introduce my daughter to the clan I had left behind. For my daughter, Barbara, it was the experience of a lifetime; for Anneliese and me, it was once again spending time together. We had grown older, but nothing much had changed. We still loved the same literary treasures. Anneliese still was the icon of neatness. I found it difficult to be neat for six weeks, but I was on her turf. She allowed me freedom to take Barbara to Vienna, Rome, Luxembourg, and Cologne, and of course my native stomping ground in Mannheim.

When it came to visiting the village of Grandmamma's Nativity, I lost my freedom. I was, after all, my cousin's guest, and to visit the village was a privilege reserved for the last free day of my visit. It was Anneliese's privilege to take Barbara and me to the village, to visit all the relatives and all the friends. I found it difficult to say Hello, knowing that the Good-bye that followed would be farewell forever.

Anneliese and I remained in contact. We called each other by phone, wrote lengthy letters, and shared our literary treasures. Anneliese surprised her family and mine when she decided to visit me in America. By that time, we had reached our 65th year of life's journey. Nothing much had changed. Anneliese ascertained that she wasn't cut out for life in a vast country. Most of her time was spent in my kitchen. She loved my kitchen. She disapproved of my consistent clutter. She folded like a hothouse plant exposed to rugged environment. She lasted only two weeks, and this time we knew that this was the last farewell. Anneliese cried. I hugged her, and turned my face away from the plane and put one foot in front of the other, heading for home.

By the time she turned seventy, she had learned how to drive a car. Driving a car was her way of following in my footsteps. She understood that being able to go where you want to go without
relying on someone else was important.

By the time the computer entered my life, Anneliese was not willing to upgrade. Cyberspace was alien territory. She preferred landlines and telephones. And there is Grandmamma to remind us to keep in touch.

Now there are questions in Anneliese's mind. These days we talk about the upcoming American election. It is difficult to explain. Why do we vote when an electoral body of government
determines the outcome of the election? Are not the choices unique? Considering America's past historical performance where color is concerned, how do we see Obama honestly? Considering our past performance as far as rights and privileges of women are concerned, how to we perceive Hillary Clinton? And what exactly is a Republican like McCain?

Grandmamma, who listens in on all our conversations, can't help but smile. She considers only one thing: "Considering your past performance during the last decade as far as your skill in conversing in your native language is concerned, exactly how do you propose to answer her questions?"

I turn to my trusty computer and Google all the information I need from all the sources possible. I put it all in WORD, save it on the desktop, and Google once again. Google offers language assistance in more languages than I will ever speak. I take my research, entrust it to Google, and request a translation into German.

Grandmamma watches in amazement, as everything is ready to print out in German in less time than it takes her to sneeze. Of course, had I been able to persuade Anneliese to become computer literate, she would receive the information in 15 minutes rather than 15 days. We could save money and time. Time and money, after all, could be spent on literature and telephones. We are cousins. After we're gone, there will be other cousins who share likes and dislikes, similarities and dissimilarities, blood bonds and unconditional love.