There was a lot going on in the early 1930s. The streets of Berlin were full of uniformed thugs waving banners and weapons about. Those with stars on their clothing were spat upon or worse. Hatred and fear were everywhere.
Heidegger carried on mooching about, writing and thinking. He did an awful lot of thinking. I could tell because he just sat for long periods with a furrowed brow. I tried sitting in his lap, but he just shooed me away.
That’s when I usually headed out to explore. Schrödinger’s cat was looking a bit down in the mouth, so I asked him what was up. It turned out that Schrödinger wasn’t in favour of spitting on those people with stars on their clothes, in fact he was very much against it. Those who spoke out against the haters found themselves arrested, and Schrödinger didn’t want to make waves.
After a trip to the Tyrol he had disappeared, and his cat feared the worst. I did my best to reassure him, but I suspected he was right. Heidegger appeared to wear his swastika with pride, having joined the Nazi party. But I think it was a sham; he didn’t seem the type to be spitting on anyone.
We moved to Freiburg when he was appointed Rector of the university.He told me that it was just for the time being, and then laughed out loud.
odespinner 