My father (of blessed memory), Willy Wolfgang Nowotny, died last November at the age of 85. He was born and raised in the Saxon region of East Germany on the Czech and Polish borders. I always figured his town was the German equivalent of Hooterville. It is so small that it is not even on many maps. He came to the United States in 1953 as a refugee through Canada with nineteen dollars in his pocket. He had enough of the Russians as they probably had their fill with him. He made his exit from East Germany in 1952 by swimming across a river on the border studying the guards for a week before escaping. He was sponsored by the Chaplain of the U.S. Army as a refugee. He was a very gifted soccer player with an opportunity to play professionally in the early version of the Bundesliga, but instead left for a new life in America.