A Girl Named Zippy Growing Up Small In

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This may be a touchy subject for a heap of to read, but a great deal of of the things I’m when it comes to to tell you is real and a share of life numerous of us don’t want to hear.

Although there are a good deal of articles published regarding World War II in Germany, not too some touch on the personal aspect of what it was like growing up as a child for the duration of the war. For those of you that are interested, this article may be for you.

My parents were raised in Germany for the duration of World War II. When the war basi started, my mother was only three and my father was eight. My parents left Germany as soon as they could after the war to start out a better life in the States.

My mother, who is now 70 years old doesn’t talk much when it comes to the war as it brings tears to her eyes. It’s a percentage of her life I think she would like to forget all together.

My mother was one of five children and initially lived on the Western edge of Poland. When Germany and Russia invaded Poland they were forced to move taking only the few possessions they could carry on their backs. Her father who was at that time in the military was unluckily killed in the war. She never got the chance to recognise who her father was. Her mother was left alone with five children to feed and no home of their own.

They moved from home to home, shelter to shelter, whoever would take them in. There was no cash so my grandmother sewed costume to trade to others in need. This little bit of cash she earned was once in a while sufficient to get feed for the family. Other times it was not and they were lucky sufficient to find other humans that were more than willing to support them out with a meal.

Their feed consisted of largely cabbage and bread. Sometimes my grandmother would stand in line for a whole day for just one loaf of bread only to find out they were all gone when it was her turn to get some.

During this time, galore families would take their children out of school at a young age – 12 years old for galore so that they could go work and support the family survive. My grandmother in spite of the temptation would not grant this. Having her children get an education was too indispensable to her, so as her children slept she sewed and sewed to make what little cash she could. For the children that did leave school to work, the most usual places to work at were bakeries and any place that made food. This way at least you could fetch some leftover feed home to your family at the end of the day.

As they were continually pushed out of areas and perpetually on the move, they lived in a great deal of shared rooms with other homeless families. It was always a continuous search to find a family that would take you in. The rooms were normally divided by sheets and regarding the half the size of a garage. They slept on the floor a lot of times on hay to cushion themselves from the hard floors. If they were fortunate enough, they got potato sacks to use as blankets and often times had to share them. Other times they would find shelters which would be one big room filled with other families. It was never a happy place – you were surrounded by sadness from the people that lost loved ones. You heard uninterrupted crying and had to keep a close eye on your personal belongings so that they wouldn’t be stolen. There were no toys to play with so the children learned to use their imagination to keep themselves occupied.

The children played outside very close to home in the streets amidst the ruins. Seeing dead horses and humans in the streets was just accepted. They grew employed to the sound of the sirens going off and running for shelter where they would hide until it was over. Afterwards, it was off to playing again outside.

I do not forget my mother telling me how on one instance they were forced to evacuate speedily because of bombers coming in. Everybody flooded to the streets with their families carrying what they could of their belongings on their backs. Some people had horses and other carriages, but the majority of them just had suitcases and bags of their most prized belongings as you never had sufficient time to get everything together. Surviving was the only essential thing. As they joined the crowds on the streets to move out abruptly the bombers came and started bombing the streets. The children were screaming and the parents would run for shelter dragging their children behind them. I don’t want to get too graphic here, but imagine being a little child of 5 to 7 years old observing persons hit by bombs right before your very eyes or watching another child you played with that day abruptly die.

The war was a terrible time for everyone including the German civilians. You were forced to obey Hitler’s rules whether you liked it or not. Even after it was declared the war was over, on one occasion my father watched a woman die before his eyes by the hands of a soldier because she happened to say “Thank god” and made a bad comment regarding Hitler. Her throat was slit instantly. She was then strung up by a rope as an example so every one could see what happens when you say something bad with regards to Hitler.

It’s sad, I know. But this is the reality of what it was like for some German civilians for the duration of World War II. Its no wonder so a lot of of them wanted to come to America.

A Girl Named Zippy Growing Up Small In

When Haven Kimmel was born in 1965, Mooreland, Indiana, was a sleepy little hamlet of three hundred people. Nicknamed “Zippy” for the way she would bolt around the house, this little girl was possessed of huge eyes and even more spectacular ears. In this witty and lovingly told memoir, Kimmel takes readers back to a time when small-town America was caught in the amber of the innocent postwar period–people helped their neighbors, went to church on Sunday, and held barnyard animals in their backyards.

Laced with fine storytelling, sharp wit, dead-on observations, and moments of sheer joy, Haven Kimmel’s straight-shooting portrait of her childhood gives us a heroine who is wondrously sweet and sly as she navigates the quirky adult world that surrounds Zippy.

From Publishers WeeklyIt’s a clich‚ to say that a good essay reads like a well-crafted work of fiction, but Kimmel’s smooth, impeccably humorous prose evokes her childhood as vividly as any novel. Born in 1965, she grew up in Mooreland, Ind., a place that by a great deal of “mysterious and powerful mathematical principle” perpetually retains a population of 300, a place where there’s no point learning the street names because it’s just as easy to say, “We live at the four-way stop sign.” Hers is less a formal autobiography than a collection of vignettes comprising the things a little child would remember: sick birds, a new bike, reading comics at the drugstore, the mean old lady down the street. The truths of childhood are rendered in lush yet simple prose; here’s Zippy describing a friend who hates wearing girls’ clothes: “Julie in a dress was like the rest of us in quicksand.” Over and over, we encounter pearls of third-grade wisdom revealed in a child’s assured voice: “There are a finite number of times one may safely climb the same tree in a single day”; or, in regards to Jesus, “Everyone around me was flat-out in love with him, and who wouldn’t be? He was good with animals, he loved his mother, and he wasn’t afraid of blind people.” (Mar.)Forecast: Dreamy and comforting, spiced with flashes of wit, this book seems a natural for readers of the Oprah school of women’s fiction (e.g., Elizabeth Berg, Janet Fitch). The startling baby photograph on the cover will have to catch browsers’ eyes.

From Library JournalIn this original book, Kimmel has written a love letter to her hometown of Mooreland, IN, a town with an unchanging population of 300 in America’s heartland. Nicknamed “Zippy” for her energetic interpretation of a circus monkey, she could not be bothered to speak until she was three years old, and her introductory words involved bargaining with her father with regards to whether or not a baby bottle was still appropriate. Born in 1965, Zippy lived in a world filled with a loving family, peculiar neighbors, and multitudes of animals, including a chicken she loved and treated like a baby. Her story is filled with good humor, fine storytelling, and acute observations of little town life. Recommended for libraries in the Midwest or with big essay collections.DPam Kingsbury, Alabama Humanities Fdn., Florence
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From BooklistThe title is awful, but Kimmel’s childhood essay rings true. Mooreland had a population of with regards to 300, little sufficient for a grade-school girl to explore each corner and have strong views with regards to the town’s adults. More important, however, than the mean old lady throughout the street and the earsplitting old man at the drugstore were Kimmel’s family (parents, older brother and sister, and respective pets) and the “best friends” with whom she experienced her little world. Kimmel remembers vividly what it felt like to be a kid: the pleasure of being outdoors; the undisputed bonds of a “best” friendship; and the oddness of a lot of of the things adults (and teenagers) do. Even in the 1960s and 1970s (Kimmel was born in 1965), Mooreland escaped the more prominent society’s disruptions. An empty store was a Ku Klux Klan headquarters in the 1920s, but there were no African Americans around town; a pair of hippies moved in and offered Zippy a chance to give her dad a valued present. Mary Carroll
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Most helpful customer reviews

62 of 64 people found the following review helpful.
Utterly beguiling and wonderful. Deeper than it appears
By Peggy Vincent
This book is proof that each of us has plenty of material in our `ordinary’ lives to use as material for writing a memoir. What most of us DON’T have, however, if Haven Kimmel’s ability to write so well that what was really a very simple small-town childhood can be elevated to a 280-page book that utterly captivates. Kimmel achieves what many others have attempted to do and failed: she writes entirely from the child’s voice without losing her audience, without becoming cloying, without making us want to smack her and say `get on with it.’ By turns wickedly witty, humorous, poignant, sweet, heart-wrenching, wise, A Girl Named Zippy is simply one of the best books I’ve read this year, a poem to a happy childhood.
I resisted it for over a year, fearing it was going to be a sappy, feel-good story. Wrong. It’s utterly original, utterly uplifting, utterly hilarious, utterly wonderful. Do NOT fail to read this book.

45 of 46 people found the following review helpful.
One of the best memoirs ever…
By Dianna Johnston
I just read the last page in A Girl Named Zippy, and now I’m at a loss. I want Zippy back! Normally, I’m not a fan of memoirs or non-fiction in general, but I had heard nothing but praise about this book. Thankfully I listened…

Haven Kimmel, or Zippy as she’s come to be known due to the fact she used to zip around the house as a toddler, has opened her life to us. The laughter begins on page 2 when Zippy’s sister comments on the type of people who would be willing to read a book about life in teeny Mooreland, Indiana. Well, count me in! Reading this book was such pure, emphatic joy. Zippy reminds me a bit of a female Dennis the Menace — little bit of a pest, but sweet, mostly innocent, and a lot curious. The stories inside are told with a poignant tone, a wistfullness for the days when life was simple, despite how big it all seemed when you were only 3-feet-tall.

A happy childhood — a breath of fresh air if you ask me. Stories like this make me grateful I grew up in a small town, and that if I thought hard enough I could come up with some stories of my own. A Girl Named Zippy has something for everybody, and a book that I will forever hold in high regard. Wonderful!

21 of 21 people found the following review helpful.
One of the funniest books I’ve ever read!
By Bonnie Barber
A friend of mine opens to any page of “Bridget Jones’ Diary” when she needs a laugh, but I prefer to do this with “A Girl Named Zippy.” For anyone who grew up in a small town, Haven Kimmel’s hilarious memoir is bound to strike a chord and elicit a grin. The stories of her father maniacally packing their camper to bursting for camping trips, his imaginative tormenting of their dog-hating neighbors, and the young Zippy giving haircuts to hippies in exchange for a dog had me in stitches! Aside from being a gifted storyteller, Haven is also a talented writer; her vivid descriptions and characterizations make this book read like a novel or short story collection. As I read this book, I couldn’t help but think that if Scout of “To Kill a Mockingbird” had been a real girl, she would’ve grown up to write a memoir a lot like “A Girl Named Zippy.” For anyone who wants to read a book that will make you laugh out loud and also give you a glimpse of an American life in simpler times–when a vacation either meant going out of town to visit relatives or taking a camping trip with your family–this is the book for you. Thanks for bringing back so many fond memories of my own rural Maryland upbringing, Haven!

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