Jamie Sauerbier
10th Honors Lit
S. Bagwell
TBT Poem Quotes
Accordion = safety
“Regardless, Liesel’s Foster Parents were waiting” (26).
“After a few minutes, a very tall man came out. Hans
Hubermann, Liesel’s foster father” (27).
“He was a painter by trade and played the piano accordion.
This came in handy, especially in the winter, when he could make a little money
playing in the pubs of Molching like the Knoller” (33).
“Some days Papa told her to get back into bed and wait a
minute, and he would return with his accordion and play for her. Liesel would
sit up and hum, her cold toes clenched with excitement. No one had ever given
her music before” (37).
“...and the music would Look Liesel in the face” (38).
“Papa’s right hand strolled the tooth-colored keys. His left
hand hit the buttons. (She especially loved to see him hit the silver, sparkled
button-the C major). The accordion’s scratched yet shiny black exterior came
back and forth as his arms squeezed the dusty bellows, making it suck in the
air and throw it back out. In the kitchen on those mornings, Papa made the
accordion live” (38).
“The sound of the accordion was, in fact, also the
announcement of safety” (38).
“Do you still play the accordion?” (173).
“It was a man a year older than himself- a German Jew named
Erik Vandenburg-who taught him to play the accordion” (175).
“All that was really left of Erik Vanderburg was a few
personal items and the finger printed accordion. Everything but the instrument
was sent home. It was considered too big. Almost with self-reproach, it sat on
his makeshift bed at the base camp and was given to his friend, Hans Hubermann,
who happened to be the only man to survive” (176).
“He carried the accordion with him during the entirety of
the war. When he tracked down the family of Erik Vandenburg in Stuttgart
upon his return, Vandenburg’s wife informed him that he could keep it. Her
apartment was littered with them, and it upset her too much to look at that one
in particular. The others were reminder enough, as was her once-shared
profession of teaching it. ‘He taught me to play,’ Hans informed her, as though
it might help. Perhaps it did, for the devastated woman asked if he could play
it for her, and she silently wept as he pressed the buttons and keys of a
clumsy ‘Blue Danube Waltz.’ It was her husband’s favorite” (179).
Jamie Sauerbier
10th Honors Lit.
S. Bagwell
The Keys of Safety
A German Jew. Erik Vandenburg. [He] taught [Papa] to play.
[Erik] carried [it] with him during the entirety of the war.
All that was really left of Erik Vanderburg was a few personal
items.
[Erik’s] wife informed [Papa] that he could keep it.
This came in handy. He could make a little money playing in the pubs of
Molching.
Her apartment was littered with them. It upset her to look at that one.
The others were reminder enough, as was her once-shared profession of
teaching it.
The devastated woman asked if he could play it for her.
Liesel’s foster parents came. A tall man. Hans Hubermann, Liesel’s
foster father.
Papa’s right hand strolled the tooth-colored keys. His left hand hit
the buttons.
The scratched yet shiny black exterior came back and forth.
His arms squeezed the dusty bellows, it sucked in
the air and throw it
back out.
Liesel would sit up and hum, her cold toes clenched with excitement.
No one had ever
given
her music before.
And the music would Look Liesel
in the face.
The sound of the accordion was, in fact, also the announcement of
safety
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