With the Stork's Help

The station wagon pulled in front of the old house which belonged to Max’s Grandparents. It sat on a hill overlooking Munich. As soon as Max took his duffel bag inside, he went back outside and leaned against the porch landing. From his point of view, Max overlooked part of the Munich skyline.

“What do you see out there?” asked Grand-papa.

“I’m looking at the buildings with red roofs.”

“Some of those buildings were built one-thousand years ago – as old as Munich itself,” said Grand-papa.

“They don’t build ‘em like that anymore,” said Max.

Grand-papa chuckled, “Did your father teach you that?”

Max nodded.

From where he stood, Max couldn’t see Munich’s newer buildings, like HighLight Towers and BMW World. Massive stone buildings blocked the way.

“What’s that building with the steeple?”

“That’s St. Peter’s Church. It was Munich’s original skyscraper?”

“Why is it so big?”

“Monks ruled over Munich – that’s where the name comes from, you know.”

Max nodded again, but he really didn’t know the deep history of Germany’s monks. Instead, his mind was on other things.

“When can we go to Karlsplatz?”

“Grand-mama fixed Rabbit Stew.”

“Papa and I ate on the I.C.E.”

“You’ll have to tell her that.”

Max went inside, where Grand-mama Muller waited. She was in the sitting room with Max’s father. She worked two knitting needles in her hands, turning yard into a stretch of blanket.

“Grand-mama?”

“Ja, Maximo?” Her eyes did not leave her work, but Max knew he had her full attention.

“Is it okay if we go to Karlplatz before dinner?”

Grand-mama Muller sat down her knitting and went to the kitchen. As she did, she patted Max on the shoulder.

“It is no problem,” she said.

“Danke, Grandmutter,” said Max as he kissed her on the cheek.

Max grabbed his skates and motioned for his father.

“Max,” interrupted his father, “I don’t think it’s a good idea…”

“It is no problem,” urged Grand-mama Muller, “The rabbit will not be upset if we eat later tonight and neither will I.”

“Alright, mother,” said Herr Muller.

Grand-papa Muller drove the station wagon into old Munich. He parked on a side street near the Karlsplatz. As they walked through Old Munich,

Max’s head twisted in every direction. Like old stone giants, the churches, cathedrals, and buildings seemed to stand guard over Old Munich.

Crowds of pedestrians gathered in Karlsplatz. Strings of Christmas lights hung over the streets, bathing the area in a golden white glow. A small skating rink sat in the middle of the square. A handful of skaters moved around the ice, some fast and some slow. Within moments, he was zipping around the rink.

Herr Muller laced up his figure skates and quickly joined Max on the ice. Grand-papa was not far behind.

“Come skating, Grand-papa! The ice is smooth!”

Unlike the other two, Grand-papa Muller wore his hockey skates. While most other German boys played fußball, Grand-papa Muller spent every cold day at the hockey rink.

“You come skating!” shouted Grand-papa. He sped aroud the rink like a speed skater. He even taunted his grandson, skating backwards for several loops.

“I love watching you skate around, Grand-papa!”

“I love skating around.”

Soon, Grand-papa and Max had worked up a sweat racing around the tiny ice rink. Meanwhile, Herr Muller casually skated around the rink, enjoying the crisp winter air and the sounds of both his father and son.

“Papa!” shouted Max, “Come race with us!”

“The two of you are doing just fine without me,” replied Max’s father.

And so, as Grand-papa wore out grandson, the threesome finally found their way to the benches at the same time.

“Have you had enough?” asked Herr Muller.

“Not even close!” said Grand-papa.

“I’m not talking to you. Pop. I’m talking to Max.”

Max had already removed one skate and was working on the second when his father asked. He really needed the overcoat he’d left in the car. His undershirt was soaked in sweat. Each stiff breeze chilled him to the bone.

“The rabbit’s waiting for us at home anyway,” said Grand-papa.

When they returned home, Grand-mama was in the sitting room. She had finished the last skein of yarn. The new roll was yellow. She would alternate between yellow and green skeins until she finished the striped blanket.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Of course I did,” said Max, “but I am very hungry now.”

“I will reheat the stew,” she said.

Grand-papa led the blessing just before dinner. Grand-mama Muller served a large bowl of Rabbit Stew to Max. She also placed a small plate of sliced pumpernickel bread next to his bowl.

“Here is a soup sponge for you, Maximo.”

“Thank you very much,” said Max.

Grand-mama Muller always included a ‘soup sponge’ with her stews – pieces of bread to soak up the last bit of soup.

“How is school?” she asked.

“It’s okay.”

“What are you studying?”

“Nothing much.”

“You must be studying something,” said Grand-papa Muller.

“Max, your Grandmother is trying to talk with you,” said Herr Muller.

“We’re not really studying much,” replied Max.

“It’s okay, Michael. Max is just a boy,” said Grandmother.

“Mother, I just…”

“Like I said, he’s just a child. Why not tell us what is going on with you, instead?”

“I do have one surprise, but I wanted to wait.”

“What is it?” asked Grand-mama.

“Josefine is pregnant!”

“Wunderbar!” she exclaimed.

“Indeed, that is wonderful,” said Grand-papa, “Will the stork bring us a boy or a girl?”

“A boy.”

“I’m getting a baby brother?”

Herr Muller nodded.

“That’s great!”

“Your mother and I think so, too,” said father.

“We think so, too,” said Grand-mama.

They finished their dinners, soup sponges and all, then went to the sitting room. Max thought about his little brother. Unlike Johann, Max would not pick on his little brother. Instead, he would try to help him when he couldn’t reach things or lift things. He planned on being the world’s greatest brother.

The moon came and went. The sun returned early on Sunday morning. The only thing going through Max’s mind was his brothers, big and small. All through breakfast, Grand-mama and Grand-papa talked about the newest Muller. Meanwhile, Max dreamed.

After breakfast, Max packed his duffel. Grand-papa took Max and his father home. The trip home was the same but different. Max didn’t sleep a wink. He watched the churches, houses, cows, and pigs pass by in a blur. The Intercity Express pulled into the station, delivering Max and his father back to Stuttgart.

Max stuffed himself into the back of the Porsche with two large duffel bags. As soon as the Porsche arrived safely at home, Max ran into the house. He gave his mother a big hug.

“What is that for?” she asked.

“When will the stork be here?”

“What do you mean?”

Herr Muller interrupted, “I told Max that the stork would be bringing home a baby brother.”

Frau Muller smiled, “Maxie, I guess we’ll see the stork in about six months.”

“What takes him so long? The stork must live very far away.”

“Storks spend the winter in southern Africa. It takes a very long time to bring us a baby.”

“I guess that makes sense,” said Max.

“Why don’t you come up to the rooftop with me?” asked Herr Muller.

“Why?”

“You’ll see,” said father.

Max went up to the roof. A small wooden platform sat next to the fireplace. It was filled with twigs and grass. Herr Muller began clearing away the brush.

“What are you doing?”

“If we want the stork to come, we have to make a place for his nest.”
“But that’s a very good nest,” said Max.

“Storks don’t use each other’s nest. They only roost in a nest they build themselves. This will help them do just that.”

Max helped his father clear away the brush until the platform was empty.

“That’ll do,” said Herr Muller.

“No, we need one more thing,” said Max.

“What is that?”

Max went to the kitchen and whispered in his mother’s ear.

“That’s a fine idea, Maxie.”

She gave him a bright white bandana. Max returned to the rooftop, where his father patiently waited in the cold. He tied the corners of bandana to the lightning rod which ran alongside the chimney.

“What is that for?” asked Herr Muller.

“It’s a signal flag, so the stork can find us more easily.”Now, the Muller house had a landing pad perfect for the lucky stork that would bring his baby brother.