Anneliese Korner-Kalman

One of our Tasso St neighbors, Anneliese Korner-Kalman, died last night. She was an emeritus faculty member of the Stanford School of Medicine and wrote a book that (in a small part of it) describes encounters with Hitler when she was a young girl:

An even more terrifying event for me personally was a run-in I had with Hitler one fine sunny fall day in 1934. By then I was almost fifteen, old enough to be allowed to ride my bike to school. I was on my way home, and unfortunately, so was Hitler. Just as I entered a narrow roundabout on Prinzregenten Strasse, two open, black Mercedes convertibles slowly pulled up beside me. Hitler was in the first car, to the right of his driver and about four feet away from my face. Loud and angry voices began screaming at me from the second car, "Greet Your Fuehrer! Greet Your Fuehrer!

All I could think of at the time was, "I'll be damned if I greet their Fuehrer!" And I held tightly onto my handlebars so as not to lift my arm in the obligatory "Heil Hitler" greeting. It seem as if it took an eternity for the caravan to pass me, as if time had stood still forever. When they finally cleared the narrow roundabout, I pulled over to the curb and saw that my hands were shaking and my knuckles white from holding on so tightly. As I approached our house, I saw Hitler's cars parked in front of his house. Only when I safely entered our apartment did I breathe a sigh of relief that I had come away unscathed from this terrifying incident..

Here's a photo of her that I took in 2005, at one of our street parties:

From 1995 to 2008 (or so, I'd say) she'd often walk by our house on her way to Midtown Palo Alto, to shop. I remember one time, I was out in the street with Cole (he might have been 5 years old), and Anneliese came by, carrying her shopping bag.

Cole started over toward me, crossing her path, and she suddenly turned to him and asked, in a curious way, "Do you know my name?"

"Yes," Cole said.

"Well, what is it?" Anneliese asked.

"Anneliese."

I had the distinct impression it made her day.