The Homestead

As we meandered through the coniferous woods from Fulda, Germany on Fuldaer Strasse (Fulda Street), my wife and I reveled in being independent on our vacation in a rented automobile. The international driver's license afforded us the opportunity to be autonomous to any itinerary. I rounded the last curve and I observed the yellow town sign for Hosenfeld. As Kellie read the map, she said, "Take the second right. Second street in, Bill, you should see the street sign." There it is!!! Hillenbrandweg (Hillanbrand Road)!!!

I stepped out of the rental vehicle and took a snapshot of the street sign with the disposable digital camera. "What a tourist!", I thought. "What an idiot!", I am sure locals must have surmised at my peculiar actions. Now the hard part. As I climbed back into my seat, I now needed to find the homestead. That's if it existed at all! World War II was a terrible war, which had left Germany deeply scarred. Massive devastation throughout the country meant that historic structures were mostly demolished. My fear was seeing most of the houses were built after the mid-1940s.

The street, I learned, had been named after our family. The Hillenbrand's had a farm on the site. Thereinafter, the farm was subdivided, today there are several houses on the original plot. None of the houses that I saw were pre-1940s except the last house. It was much bigger and nestled along the hillside at a different angle. Here at last was the homestead!

The back of the house had multiple entrances on different floors. It was apparent that it had been updated, however, the basement stone structure was evident. The house was connected to a timber framed barn. Around the front of the house, one can see timber framing. The timbers were freshly painted dark brown and the stucco was brilliant white. The proud owner of the home completes the welcoming look with flower boxes in a few of the windows. The windows themselves were typically out of square for an old house. The barn was still being utilized as a garage.

I had tried to imagine the year 1847 as Nicolaus and Margarita Hillenbrand peered out the rear window of their comfortable home overlooking the hillside. I could almost feel the heartfelt sadness they must have endured as they watched their son, Franz leave this very place for America. Would they ever hear from him again? They would walk to the center of town to St. Peter und Paul Kirche (St. Peter and Paul Church). For generations, the Hillenbrands would come here to pray for their loved ones.

Next installment...St. Peter und Paul