The marvels of social media!
After nearly twenty years of searching, my sister Simone finally found a blood cousin on her father’s side, and by extension, a direct link to her birth father!
Simone had always kept an old passport of his that our mom had given to her long ago. It is the only photo she has of a father she never knew. Just below this handsome smiling face, appears his signature; Harry Smidberg.
He did have a striking resemblance to Rock Hudson.
I think it was one of those love at first sight romances. Right after they first met, mom pulled out an atlas and opened it to the Northern European pages and explained to me, “Harry is Latvian; it’s one of three countries that make up the Baltic states of Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania.”
Being the eldest brother, I have vivid recollections and fond memories of Harry. Over the years, I’ve tried to fill in the blanks as much as possible for Simone. He was an elegant and refined man to be sure; his speech, his looks, the way he dressed … the whole package. He worked as a car salesman for Lincoln Continental – so one of the perks – they were both driving his and hers Lincolns.
Simone learned some other interesting facts from her cousin. Born in Latvia, the family had moved to Germany for work. Later, during the war years, the family had emigrated from Germany to the U.S., settling in Lincoln, Nebraska. Then, Harry moved to California for the next 30 years, having very little contact with his family. Simone asked me if he had an accent. Not that I can remember, but he did teach me to count to ten in German.
I was telling my sister another story of the time we lived in an apartment in Mexico City. I’m not sure how it came into my possession, but as I was fixing up my bedroom, there was a triangular banner of a Nazi Swastika and I hung it up on the wall. I was maybe 10 at the time and I liked the colors. Well, Harry came into the room and complimented me with the way I fixed it up. Then he sat on my bed and asked if I knew about the symbolism of the banner. I told him I did not. Anyway, he went on to explain in a soft and gentle way about the evils of that symbol and what it meant and so forth. After he was through, I took down the banner. He was really good that way.
It’s really sad that Simone did not get to know her father. He was without question a fascinating and charming man, who I believe, yearned to be a father. But she was just one or two when they broke up and I was about 11.
Our mother was a jealous woman by nature, and Harry with his killer good looks, may have been a womanizer. If he was, it just added to the volatility and inevitability of their break-up. He did play the horses, so add gambling to his resume, and he did drink – although I never remember him being a ‘heavy’ drinker or a drunk.
The picture on the left is the passport photo that Simone has kept all these years. The picture of the white-haired gentleman on the right is Harry taken in 2005. The lady behind him is Simone’s Aunt Helga who looks much younger. Sadly, Simone also found out that the father she never knew, Harry Smidberg, has since passed away. She’s doesn’t know what year, but obviously after 2005.
Look at that head of hair! It looks as if he hadn’t lost a single hair with aging. I’ve teased my sister for the longest time that she has Elvis Presley hair. Thick, abundant, dark, shiny and straight. See any resemblance? Of course our mother’s hair fits that same description too.
My hope is that Simone can strike up a friendship with her Aunt Helga, and get to know her father through her eyes … and what might have been.
RIP Harry Smidberg.