My mother sent this email today:
"Here is another episode that came to mind: I found an old rusted empty can in the street and kicked it round ( we didn't have many toys); when I got home, I hid it between a tree and the fence to play with later. Before that time came, my father had seen it. Thinking it might be a bomb, he called the police who came to detonate it! I felt so embarrassed.
School was an off again on again thing: often we'd get there--about a 15 min. walk--when the air raid sirens would go off and we' d have to run home. Since Suse (my sister) was a baby, Oma was tied up at home and could not meet me or pick me up. I was scared to be by myself, so neighbors got together for a "school" in a retired teacher's house where some of us (maybe 6 or 7) met whenever we could. It was only about 3 blocks away. I don't remember her name but do remember her dining room; it had a round table where we had our seats.
So-called Christmas trees--don't know if they were actual bombs or things dropped for better sight--fell down one night. I said to Oma how pretty they were: they did look like trees with lights on them, she scolded me for calling such a destructive object pretty! (Shades of your bomb paintings!)
I lost my teddy bear once on the way to the bomb shelter and was sad, but we found it on the way home, he was my favorite toy. Tante else made clothes for him."