{"id":7491,"date":"2014-11-14T09:00:26","date_gmt":"2014-11-14T14:00:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/home\/?p=7491"},"modified":"2014-11-19T09:44:37","modified_gmt":"2014-11-19T14:44:37","slug":"diffusing-history","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/diffusing-history\/","title":{"rendered":"Diffusing History"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"History_585x585\"<\/a><\/p>\n

After three years of caddying, I\u2019d received the promotion every summertime employee at the Kitzbuhel Country Club in the Austrian village of that name dreamed of. I was now a lifeguard. I envisioned a long summer of watching beautiful, rich, bikini-clad, Alpine women morph from fair-skinned to bronzed and, of course, earning a bigger paycheck to help finance a down payment on that new, red Volkswagen Tiquan I just had to be behind the wheel of. What I didn\u2019t expect was an unfortunate lesson in history learned on my very first day of work.<\/p>\n

I sat at a plain, white table near the indoor entrance to the Olympic size pool a number of our nation\u2019s swimmers used to train for international competitions. Dieter Schild, my six foot three inch, blue-eyed Supervisor adorned in the same white t-shirt with the letters KCC written in bold red print all Club employees were required to wear, pranced towards me carrying a thick blue binder with the words PAYMENTS, RULES & REGULATIONS written on it. Our eyes met.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re Hans Stroebel right?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

Eager to impress my new boss, I leaped out of the chair and extended my right hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes Herr Schild,\u201d I said, in a louder than usual tone.<\/p>\n

After we completed the formality, he lowered his hands. I understood the hint and rested my rear in a seat.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease call me Dieter,\u201d he said, as he occupied the pool chair adjacent to mine. \u201cNow, the not so fun part.\u201d<\/p>\n

He flipped open the binder. On the very top of a stack of papers was a green sheet titled Pool Rules. He removed the document and placed it in front of me.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake some time to read that,\u201d he instructed. \u201cMost of its pretty self-explanatory. The one to commit to memory\u2019s number seven.\u201d<\/p>\n

My eyes scanned downward to the numeral seven, which was followed by the words \u2018guests are entitled to bring in three additional persons with passes. Any more require payment of fifty<\/em> Euros.\u2019 I glanced up.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have to enforce it to the letter,\u201d he said, as his smile dissipated. \u201cHermann and the Board are obsessed about this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGot it,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

As I perused the rest of the rules, loud shouting could be heard as a group of about fifteen people stormed through the entrance nearest the lounge. Most were carrying bottles of Beck\u2019s and a few, led by a six-foot four, short brown-haired man in his twenties donning a tank top with the word Israel shadowed by a large, blue Star of David, wobbled and staggered as they traversed the breezeway leading to where Dieter and I sat.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet ready to break out more booze,\u201d said Israel shirt man, with the arms of a bodybuilder.<\/p>\n

Dieter grimaced and squirmed.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomething tells me this\u2019s gonna be tested right now,\u201d Dieter said, as he ascended and transfixed his eyes on Mr. Star of David.<\/p>\n

The posse was comprised of men, most of whom wore Yarmulkes. The lone female was a thin, green-eyed blonde with elbow length hair who clung to the leader. Perspiration built, as my pulse increased.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d I asked, as my voice cracked up a bit.<\/p>\n

Dieter inched his head to his left and eyed me.<\/p>\n

\u201cMore like who,\u201d he answered, \u201cMarkus Goldschmidt.\u201d<\/p>\n

I threw out my arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s that?\u201d I wondered.<\/p>\n

Dieter expelled a huge burst of air and clenched his fists.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomeone you don\u2019t want to meet on your first day of work,\u201d he snarled.<\/p>\n

Markus approached our table again, before reaching into his pocket. Dieter observed Markus\u2019s movements and pounced up. Markus launched four rectangular cards at us. One of them bared his name and photo. The other three were blank. All four read Pool Pass-Kitzbuhel Country Club across the top. The woman closed in and again clutched Markus\u2019s right arm. Markus waved his friends in. As they all marched towards us, Dieter glimpsed up and glared at Markus.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll set Ace?\u201d Markus asked Dieter.<\/p>\n

Markus yanked a bottle of Stoli\u2019s out of his girlfriend\u2019s bag and swigged from it. Dieter propelled himself airborne. Sweat drenched my shirt when Markus eyed me.<\/p>\n

\u201cS\u2013S-see we got a newbie,\u201d he slurred, almost flooring me with his breath.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t glance upward, much less face him. He slammed his hand down in front of me. Dieter stepped in between us.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your name Fraulein?\u201d Markus asked.<\/p>\n

My jaw clenched and I hissed for several seconds. He\u2019d just insulted me and I yearned to respond, but fearing that doing so would cost me my job, managed to remain calm. I raised my head up, but neither rose nor extended my hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cHans Stroebel,\u201d I said, in a voice not much more audible than a whisper.<\/p>\n

As Markus chugged another swill of vodka, Dieter moved closer to him. Seeking an explanation for what was happening, I tugged on Dieter\u2019s shirt with a trembling right hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell Hans,\u201d Markus said, as his breath again sickened me, \u201cif it\u2019s okay with you and your tight-assed boss, we\u2019re gonna head on in and work on our tans.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before I could utter a word, Dieter smashed his left hand against the table, thrashed open the binder, thrust out another copy of the rules and flung it in Markus\u2019s direction. The paper fell to the ground.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfraid that ain\u2019t happening,\u201d Dieter shouted. \u201cRead rule number seven and tell me what that says.\u201d<\/p>\n

Markus leered at both of us for several seconds. I placed both hands beneath my buttocks to conceal their quivering state.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet it,\u201d Dieter continued. \u201cEither pick the three people you want to bring in, or cough up another five hundred fifty Euros.\u201d<\/p>\n

Markus glared at us again before ripping the paper until it was reduced to slivers and proceeded drop the shredded mess through his fingers and onto our table like he was releasing sand. The girl grabbed Markus\u2019s left arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf it\u2019s the rule, maybe you should just pay it,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Markus shoved her. She and the remainder of his entourage retreated a good ten strides.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck off Brigitte,\u201d he yelled. \u201cI\u2019m handling this.\u201d<\/p>\n

Again, Dieter jabbed the side of the table with the knuckles of his right hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s it,\u201d Dieter said, as he leaped back and flailed his arms.<\/p>\n

He stomped down the breezeway towards the elevator.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019re you going?\u201d I asked, now almost crying.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo get Mr. Hermann,\u201d he shouted, as he punched his left palm with the right fist.<\/p>\n

The lift\u2019s door opened.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t let them in no matter what,\u201d he ordered.<\/p>\n

As soon as Dieter faded from sight, a sharp pain grew in my chest and I found it difficult to breathe. After relaxing for a spell, I swallowed a huge gulp of water. Quiet reigned for two minutes. I prayed in silence that either the cease fire would last or Dieter and Mr. Herrmann would return before Markus felt the urge to act up again. Not more than a few seconds after I muttered amen, Markus\u2019s brown peepers locked in on me. He smiled and minced towards the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook,\u201d he said, \u201cmy family\u2019s been part of this club for years. I know you\u2019re new. Let me give you a little lesson. It\u2019s proper for the employees to serve the needs of guests.\u201d<\/p>\n

I exhaled three times, cracked my knuckles, spun around and made The Sign of the Cross.<\/p>\n

\u201cHerr Goldschmidt,\u201d I began, \u201cmy job\u2019s to enforce the rules. I can\u2019t let all your friends in without payment. Please wait for Mr. Hermann and discuss it with him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Markus smiled and retreated for a second. I thought my approach worked. Then, he wheeled around, clomped towards me again, halted at the edge of the table and stared.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou fucking Nazis,\u201d he bellowed, drawing the attention of several pool goers.<\/p>\n

He punched and kicked the walls, lifted up the binder, chucked it across the room and hurled the Stoli\u2019s to the ground, shattering the glass. My jaw went agape. Brigitte neared. He pushed her away again. The rest of his buddies sprinted towards the exit and disappeared outside.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sick and tired of this damn country trying to dick over Jews,\u201d he continued screaming. \u201cMy father\u2019s one of the richest men in the world. He\u2019ll bury all your asses, you lampshade makers.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had little idea of what he was referring to. My only goal was to keep from having a nervous breakdown before Dieter came back with Mr. Hermann. Markus zoned in and readied himself for the next raid. However, this time, I wasn\u2019t shaking, sweating or nauseated. I ascended fast and confronted him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHerr Goldschmidt,\u201d I said, in a loud and confident tone I was surprised emanated from my mouth. \u201cYou can call me all the names you want. The rules say you have to pay for eleven of your guests. Take it up with my boss. But, if you try to go in, I\u2019ll call the police. Understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

He glared at me again. I didn\u2019t flinch. Brigitte snared his right arm. He veered around and faced her. She muttered something I couldn\u2019t hear.<\/p>\n

\u201cDa,\u201d he snapped, as she led him to a chair near the lounge door and somehow convinced him to sit down.<\/p>\n

I exhaled and grinned. Several minutes later, Markus sprung up. I arose with haste and even clenched my fists in the event he tried to strike me.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck it,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

He stormed off and disappeared into the lounge. I was relieved. A fistfight with the son of a billionaire would not enhance my university transcripts. The tranquility lasted three whole minutes.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou tell that prick he isn\u2019t gonna run this club,\u201d shouted General Manager and Board President Klaus Hermann in a booming bass voice, as he and Dieter emerged from the elevator.<\/p>\n

Hermann, a large, almost obese, balding man of fifty-eight, adorned in a brown suit, strutted towards me. Dieter trailed him frowning and rolling his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope you didn\u2019t let them in Herr Stroebel,\u201d he said, as he pointed at me.<\/p>\n

The sweating and bounding pulse returned. I rose up.<\/p>\n

N-no sir,\u201d I stuttered. \u201cTold them they pay or I call the police.\u201d<\/p>\n

He extended his right hand. I shook it without hesitation.<\/p>\n

\u201cGreat job young man,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Another happy sigh was released. Hermann was not only my boss, but a close business associate of Papa who\u2019d handed me this job over a number of more experienced candidates. As Hermann knelt down at the table, Markus reentered. Hermann spun around. Markus and Hermann faced each other and froze like they were preparing for a showdown. Markus scowled. Hermann\u2019s face morphed into a shade of red darker than the stripes on our flag. Dieter reoccupied his perch next to me.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh crap,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong now?\u201d I asked<\/p>\n

My heart thwacked again.<\/p>\n

\u201cGive it a second,\u201d he mumbled.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t take that long. By the time I had peeked up, Markus blitzkrieged towards Hermann.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo damn way old man,\u201d he screamed, louder than in his face off with me. \u201cI refuse to let your kind hurt my family anymore. Already stole plenty more than five hundred Euros from us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Markus clenched his jaw as tears streamed down his cheeks.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this all about?\u201d I asked Dieter. \u201cI mean, he keeps saying we hurt his family.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dieter sighed, giggled and smacked his lips.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re kidding right?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

I continued to stare at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit,\u201d he said. \u201cYou really don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach tingled, as I fidgeted with my hands. I felt like the only person in a room who wasn\u2019t let in on a joke everyone else was already laughing at.<\/p>\n

\u201cKnow what?\u201d I asked, with a bit more attitude.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere do I start?\u201d Dieter asked. \u201cLook man, if you have to ask, I don\u2019t think I should be the one to explain it to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before I could inquire what all this meant, Markus\u2019s friends had rejoined him and they marched towards the pool entrance. Hermann pressed a blue button on the wall. In less than ten seconds, four tall men wearing shirts that said SECURITY across the back zoomed inside and stood on either side of Hermann. Both Dieter and I popped up and flanked the security officers after Hermann pointed\u00a0and waved us forward. I gagged and dry heaved, as the two warring factions stood at attention and viewed the other like two wolves about to fight over a carcass. Markus veered his head to the right. His cronies stepped back in that direction.<\/p>\n

\u201cNah,\u201d he said, \u201cain\u2019t worth it. I\u2019ll just call Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

While Markus and company dispersed, Hermann placed his hands against the rear of my chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey Goldschmidt,\u201d he shouted. \u201cCall your father. I don\u2019t care. Rules are rules and I\u2019ll not be manipulated by a bunch of reverse racists who cry discrimination every time they don\u2019t get their way. I know what and who I am, as well as not. I also know what this club is and have nothing to apologize for. Boys, either they pay or are removed with force.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hermann again stormed off and abandoned us in the trench. Markus approached. Both Dieter and I pounced up. Markus placed his hands out like a crossing guard and plodded towards the exit. Dieter sprinted to a corridor to the left of the lounge.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d I begged, \u201cdon\u2019t leave me again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot,\u201d he said. \u201cJust going to break the seal. Be back in five.\u201d<\/p>\n

Right after Dieter disappeared into the men\u2019s room, the pool phone buzzed. I lifted up the receiver at a measured pace.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood afternoon, Kitzbuhel Country Club,\u201d I said. \u201cYou\u2019ve reached the pool complex.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah this\u2019s Abe Goldschmidt,\u201d said the man on the other end of the line. \u201cWith whom am I speaking?\u201d<\/p>\n

My pulse bounded wherever arteries met skin. I couldn\u2019t speak, as a dryness gripped my throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello,\u201d he continued. \u201cStill there?\u201d<\/p>\n

My left hand quaked. I grasped the corded, touch-toned antique in my right.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes Herr Goldschmidt,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m Hans Stroebel and am still here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like we have a problem over there,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Dieter returned and pointed to his ear.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s on the phone?\u201d he asked, in a whisper.<\/p>\n

\u201cPapa,\u201d I uttered.<\/p>\n

He shrugged his shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s that?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cGoldschmidt,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

His eyes grew large as he rushed over and stood near me.<\/p>\n

\u201cStill there?\u201d Abe asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you tell me what happened?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

I expelled a huge burst of air. Dieter patted me on the right shoulder and positioned his ear as close to the phone as possible.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d I began. \u201cYour son brought fourteen people with him. Rules state that if you have more than three guests, you have to pay for each one. He\u2019s refusing to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, young man,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Dieter and I eyed each other.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be there in a few minutes,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll resolve this.\u201d<\/p>\n

He hung up without saying goodbye. Dieter moped back to our command post, sunk down in the chair and positioned his face in both hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake it this isn\u2019t good news,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Dieter inched his head sideways and smirked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll just say things went from chaos to ultimate insanity,\u201d he said. \u201cThink Markus\u2019s bad, Abraham\u2019s worse. If you\u2019re religious, now\u2019s the time to pray.\u201d<\/p>\n

I refrained. I\u2019d done that before and my pleas went unanswered. Without warning, a severe bout of nausea set in. I raced towards the bathroom and hit a stall just in time to release the frustrations of the day into the toilet. When I cleaned my face, I darted back to the battle station.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay?\u201d Dieter asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWas until a few minutes ago,\u201d I responded.<\/p>\n

\u201cSit down,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll deal with this.\u201d<\/p>\n

I collapsed on my chair and poured a glass of water into a plastic cup.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks,\u201d I said, as I downed its contents in one gulp.<\/p>\n

I stepped into the pool area for some fresh air. I envied Sissi, the sixteen-year-old sitting atop a lifeguard tower feeling the warmth of the sun while observing the sparse group of swimmers who seemed oblivious to what was happening mere feet away. As I shuffled back towards the table, a bearded man in a black suit with a Yarmulke shielding his bald head pranced in. Dieter eyed me, however, I was smart enough to realize he was Abe Goldschmidt. I positioned my south end back in the hot seat. Dieter minced towards Abe.<\/p>\n

\u201cHerr Goldschmidt,\u201d he said, as he offered his hand.<\/p>\n

Abe returned the gesture.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello Dieter,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019d like to speak with Hans Stroebel. That was who I spoke to a few minutes ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

Markus hid behind Abe, after he strutted in and grinned at us.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not feeling well,\u201d Dieter said.<\/p>\n

Though I appreciated Dieter\u2019s efforts, I refused to hide.<\/p>\n

\u201cIts fine,\u201d I said, as I stepped forward and faced Abe. \u201cI\u2019m Hans, Herr Goldschmidt.\u201d<\/p>\n

Markus confronted me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis newbie punk won\u2019t let us in Papa,\u201d he shouted, as he placed a finger on my right shoulder. \u201cThey\u2019re treating us like swine again.\u201d<\/p>\n

I clenched my right wrist and hissed like a failing radiator. Abe glared at Markus.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou shut up,\u201d he shouted, \u201cand take your hands off this young man.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dieter jerked back and again cowered behind Abe. I was surprised that a man, whom Dieter said was a monster, could act so decent. Markus then kowtowed, plodded towards the lounge and faded from sight.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I see a copy of the rules please?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

Dieter picked the binder up off the floor, flipped through it and located another copy of the rules. He approached and presented it to Abe, who glimpsed at it and handed it back to Dieter.<\/p>\n

\u201cFair enough,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his checkbook.<\/p>\n

\u201cEleven extra guests?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

He knelt down at the table, scribbled out a check and presented it to me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you are Herr Stroebel,\u201d he said. \u201cFive hundred fifty Euros.\u201d<\/p>\n

First I eyed Dieter. Then Abe.<\/p>\n

\u201cRelax,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m called a militant and am proud to be one, but not over matters like this. My always emotional, sometimes off-balance son hasn\u2019t learned the difference yet. Thank you for your kindness and patience.\u201d<\/p>\n

Abe minced towards the exit, stopped after traversing three quarters of the breezeway, stared at Markus and disappeared into the outside. Dieter then rushed over play punched my left shoulder and offered a huge smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cWow,\u201d he said, as he raced towards the elevator, \u201cgotta tell Hermann.\u201d<\/p>\n

Too spent to worry about being left alone again, I plopped back down in my seat. Seconds later, Markus, Brigitte and the entire clan marched through the breezeway. Markus stopped by the pool entrance door, peeked up, pointed at me and smiled. Then, he and the crowd entered the poolside. As soon as they occupied three tables and a bunch of lounge chairs, the phone chimed again. I answered it.<\/p>\n

\u201cKitzbuhel Country Club, Pool Complex,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d said Dieter, \u201cMr. Hermann wants to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just when I thought this first day couldn\u2019t get any more memorable.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re kidding me,\u201d I said. \u201cThey paid. What more does he want from-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy,\u201d interrupted Dieter. \u201cHe\u2019s not upset.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGreat,\u201d I said, as I thwacked the phone down, stomped to the elevator and depressed the up button about fifteen times.<\/p>\n

In less than a minute, I was standing inside Hermann\u2019s office. It wasn\u2019t that large, but had a nice-sized desk with a new Dell desktop on it. The Austrian flag and the Tirol Provincial Coat of Arms hung on the rear wall surrounded by photos of the Club from previous years. He was writing. After he glanced up and noticed me, he waved.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave a seat,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

I was glad to rest my south end on a reclining leather seat, instead of the battle station pool chair that\u2019d left numerous rectangular imprints from its slats on my legs and back. He inched his frame upward.<\/p>\n

\u201cInteresting first day,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

He reached into the top drawer of an adjacent filing cabinet and yanked out a bottle of whiskey. He dumped a healthy shot into a glass. I was tempted to ask for a drag but didn\u2019t desire any further trouble.<\/p>\n

\u201cBet you\u2019re a bit confused about what happened today,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

My legs twitched. I needed to stand.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot as much as before,\u201d I said. \u201cThink I\u2019m beginning to get it. Believe it\u2019s what my parents were talking about when they said \u201cAustria\u2019s Burden.\u201d<\/p>\n

He buried the drink and returned to his seat.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re right,\u201d he said. \u201cMany people have a tough time handling it. You saw how I reacted.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shrugged my shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t have anything to do with it?\u201d I asked<\/p>\n

He removed his octagonal glasses and rubbed his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not about that,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s about how we acknowledge it. The young Herr Goldschmidt\u2019s a malcontent, but that\u2019s not the point. He\u2019s smart enough to understand that acting the way he did is a perfect way to reopen the old wound. Anyhow, I\u2019ve decided to up your rate to twenty-five Euros per hour for the rest of the summer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Of everything I\u2019d seen, heard and experienced that morning, it was those words that almost caused me to faint. After letting his statement register a bit, I sat back down.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d I asked, \u201chaven\u2019t done anything yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yes you have,\u201d he responded.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked, still in shock.<\/p>\n

He ascended, stepped behind me and placed his left hand on my right shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cProven to me that your generation might be the first one capable of carrying \u201cAustria\u2019s Burden.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

—<\/p>\n

Matthew H Emma is an on-hiatus journalist currently pursuing his dream of becoming a full-time creative writer. He\u2019s written numerous short stories, the first draft of a novella and is working on his first screenplay. Five of his short pieces have been published and featured in such online literary magazines as Alfie Dog Limited, Linguistic Erosion, The Vehicle and Agave.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

After three years of caddying, I\u2019d received the promotion every summertime employee at the Kitzbuhel Country Club in the Austrian village of that name dreamed of. I was now a lifeguard. I envisioned a long summer of watching beautiful, rich, bikini-clad, Alpine women morph from fair-skinned to bronzed and, of course, earning a bigger paycheck to help finance a down payment on that new, red Volkswagen Tiquan I just had to be behind the wheel of. What I didn\u2019t expect was an unfortunate lesson in history learned on my very first day of work. <\/p>\n

I sat at a plain, white table near the indoor entrance to the Olympic size pool a number of our nation\u2019s swimmers used to train for international competitions.<\/p>\n

READ MORE.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":226,"featured_media":8438,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,200,219,217],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7491"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/226"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7491"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7491\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8442,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7491\/revisions\/8442"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/8438"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7491"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7491"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7491"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}