The various roles of this story play in the shadow of the complex dynamics of their time, as collected in the chronicles of several German cities in the mid-20th century. 

Back then, there was a simple, average, basically contented young man named Rip Van Winkler. He was a good neighbor, who was always obedient and never caused major troubles, even if some persons felt about him as a pain in the neck. He tried to help people. He listened to the women telling him their problems and neighborhood rumors. He played with the children, for whom their mother had little time at Pastor Nordbeck’s, told them fairy tales, and sewed costumes for them to play cowboys and Indians, with fancily embroidered ornamental strips that his aunt found for him in a corner of the floor under the roof for drying the wash. She gave them to him, and also with it books by Karl May and his tales of Winnetou and Old Shatterhand. In return Rip made recipe books for her and coloring books for her children. He also helped the men mend fences, cut the grass, carry their tools, straighten the edges of the flower and asparagus beds, and rake the patterns in the sand and sidewalks that marked the weekend’s rest day during this time, which farmers did to assure that the Sabbath was not disturbed. He also really enjoyed helping his uncle, a local veterinarian.

Rip Van Winkler liked to hike the mountain trails or around the rivers so he could spot birds and squirrels, deer and foxes. He also liked to sit down and watch the world, like the wide green meadows at the Vechte River, with the Bentheimer Wald always in the background.

One day he stayed in nature a bit longer than he had planned. It was getting dark, and as he started walking back toward the little town, he heard a voice: “Rip Van Winkler! Rip Van Winkler! “

Someone called his name. He looked in the direction of the voice and saw a strange figure carrying something. Rip was surprised to find another human in the forest trying to lure him closer with a very nice magazine featuring the artistic side of design. The opening article and also its headline unfolded a new fantastic life story; chapter after chapter promised a really interesting life of art and design; also traveling far away and learning new languages in order to make a living in a strange but supportive world.

Rip was impressed by the reports and articles and while thinking about it, he became very tired and fell asleep. When he woke up, right there on the spot where he had met the stranger with the elegant magazine, it was already a sunny morning, but it seemed like everything had changed.

He got up and walked the forest paths through the mountains and meadows towards the small town. The path seemed very different from what he remembered. He suddenly felt lost and had trouble finding the right way back.

When he finally got there, he saw that the people suddenly seemed very strange and different. He no longer recognized them. It was difficult for him to find his own home. Memories had left distorted experiences from different places, intertwined, entangled, all now standing empty. Rip called his aunt, father, grandfather, his sister, her husband and descendants, but no one was there. Eventually he couldn’t remember the location of his home at all. He had become excluded and estranged by his close family. It was his luck, that the families of his cousin and her husband took him in and so did his old schoolmate, otherwise he would have gotten pretty wet in the rain.

Rip Van Winkler caught people’s attention. Soon they approached and asked him, “Who are you? What are you doing here? Surely you bring trouble to us?” “No!” Rip exclaimed, “I’m an old tired man. I come from somewhere, I used to know from where. I cherished it, dreaming about it all the time, but I don’t know any longer, because it seems that no one wants me. I think I’ve been faithful, I’ve never fallen, I’ve always done my duty, always above and beyond. I realize that I never belonged anywhere, then or even now.”

“Ah, a traitor!” shouted the people.

“Go back to the place wherever you came from!”

“What is it? Who are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for my ‘family’.”

Everyone went silent. Nobody knew Rip Van Winkler.

Then:

“Oh yeah! George Van Winkler. He died many years ago.

“Where’s my sister?” Rip asked. “She married and had three children.”

“And where are they?” “They are successful and travel all the time.”

“Doesn’t anybody here know Paul Van Winkler?”, cried Rip desperately.

“Oh, Paul Rip Van Winkler. Yes, he was here, but that was a long time ago. He was a very wonderful, positive person. He helped many people,”

“What happened to my wonderful Aunt Elizabeth?”

“Sorry, she also left many years ago, but we remember her very fondly. She left an inspirational trail. She was incredible.”

Then an old man jostled and interrupted: “And who are you?”