“And what about your poetry?” the professor asked. “Writing material acceptable to the State?” Fred was evasive.
“Or still wanting to be the lark with a song to sing?”
Fred said nothing, still concerned that this might be a test by the police.
“Maybe I can help you. Your potential is wasted here.” The professor told him about a group who helped people get out of the country with false documents and a new identity.
And so, six months later Fred was living in the middle of the United States with a brand new birth certificate showing that Friedrich Wirth was born in New York City twenty-two years earlier to Heinrich and Rosina Wirth. Both parents were born in Germany and spoke German at home which explained their son’s slight accent. The birth certificate was a copy of one issued by the New York health department but that Friedrich Wirth lived only nine months. Because birth and death records were filed separately, no one ever found out that Fred had miraculously survived his death.
For the first few years, Fred avoided contact with the police or government who could send him to jail or back to East Germany. Then he met Ann McCarty, a black haired, green eyed, girl whose smile and expressions inspired trust and acceptance so, to his surprise, he told her all about himself: his background and his dreams for his poetry. A few months later, she agreed to marry him, but only if, (she being a practical girl) and only if he had a steady job to support them.