WALKING TENDERLY OVER COBBLESTONES
For months, I enjoyed walking over cobblestones on the quaint streets of German towns and cities. My husband was fortunate to have had an overseas assignment in Frankfurt, Germany. I loved taking pictures of cobblestones during our stay. For every cathedral, castle, and quaint town, I must have taken at least one picture of the cobblestones leading up to it. To say I was obsessed with them might be a bit too strong, but I definitely had as many cobblestone pictures on my cell phone as I did coffee and strudel pictures, and that says a lot for me!
Cobblestones were beautiful in all of their forms: worn natural round stones of varying colors, limestone, sandstone, perfectly quarried square stones, and smooth black basalt stones. I loved thinking about how long the cobblestones had been there, who had strolled across them, what the stone mason was thinking as he laid the stones, the pattern they made, the children that played on them, the vehicles and animals that traveled across them, what the community had experienced over the centuries, and even what the stones themselves would say if they could speak.
But one day, my feet stumbled upon a four-inch square brass cobblestone. This was different. It was not chiseled rock laid hundreds of years ago by a stone mason. It was brass fitted over a cobblestone. It had a name and date on it. I squatted down to read the inscription:
“Sara Isselbächer” 1886
Deportiert 1941
Minsk
Ermordet 1942
Treblinka
There were seven brass plaques labeled with the names Sara, Bernhard, Adolf, Johanna, Max, Rosa, and Walter. They were indeed stumbling stones or “Stolpersteine,” a project initiated in 1992 by the German Artist, Gunter Demnig. His vision was to commemorate those who suffered under Nazi persecution, because as he says, “a person is only forgotten when his or her name is forgotten.” There are over 100,000 stumbling stones installed all over Europe. These brass plaques are embedded in the sidewalks in front of the last known residence of individuals persecuted, deported, imprisoned, and murdered by the Nazis.
I had to look up the German words that I kept seeing over and over on the brass plaques: deportiert, flucht, interniert, versteckt gelebt, geleft, verstekt and finally, ermordet. I translated the words:
Deportiert 1941 (deported 1941)
Flucht (escaped)
Interniert (imprisoned)
Versteckt gelebt (lived in hiding)
Verstekt (hidden)
Vermisste (missing)
Geleft (left)
Ermordet (murdered)
Ermordet in Auschwitz (murdered in Auschwitz)
Of course, the one word I was always relieved to see was…befreit/überlebt (freed/survived). Perhaps your father, uncle, or grandfather walked over cobblestones to liberate some of these individuals. But of course, for too many, liberation came too late.
After stumbling upon this first brass plaque, I watched my step in the towns and cities of Germany. I walked tenderly over cobblestones, vowing that I, too, would never forget.
Over Cobblestones by Lauri Cruver Cherian
Walk tenderly over cobblestones
history is remembered
embedded in sand and mortar
Soles of toddler’s feet
have balanced
over gray stones
Mothers’ kisses have healed
scraped knees
skinned on corners between ruts
Horseshoed hooves
have trotted
their rhythmic metallic beat
Wheels have spun
over smooth polished stone
Bumpety, bump, bump
Carts, carriages, and cars
have signaled their approach
each in its own era
Stones have remembered
each century’s souls
as soles have trod across
So, walk tenderly over cobblestones
for history repeats itself
lest we forget
Mother, son, father, daughter
tourist, soldier, neighbor,
king, peasant, and sojourner
Walk tenderly over cobblestones
honor the steps of the past
pave the way for steps of the future
*Published in the Facts, Brazos Life August 13, 2025
