From the announcement I learned four things I had not really stored in my mind about him: That he was a honorary professor (at Stuttgart University), that he had a PhD ( in dynamic range of supply chains), that he had a MBA from USC, and that his middle name was Karl. Less surprising, maybe was that the second death notice came from a Berlin group supporting classical music. They say they lost a supporter, co-founder, inspiration and true friend.
Andreas was my hero for at least those years when we shared the same house. Probably longer, except that my left leaning political development had to put this fact into the basement of the subconscious since he never went further than moderate stands, as far as I can tell).
We went to the same Hellenstein Gymnasium and that I pushed for being in the Latin track of the only boys highschool in town was thanks to Andreas; be it that he made it known that this was the only way to go, or was it that my parents had consulted with his parents, Liselotte and Hans. Andreas was their gold star, not his elder brother Stephan. If I had any say in this, I would certainly have opted for the same track he went to, because I wanted to be like him. I picked the same Vaterland bike brand with 28" wheels he had, even though I was still short then and the bike too tall. I installed the same bells and began collecting match boxes and pinned them on the same wall he had pinned his one story up.
I never considered this amount of imitation embarrassing or as a sign of flattery. It was just what I did. I hung on his lips when he commented on the Christmas sermon of pastor Graser when we left church on Christmas Eve to take the candlelight home to our tree. Down the Herrenwegle we went and little Bodo trotted behind, stumbling occasionally on snow and ice, extinguishing his light a few times in the process. Sometimes this happened to all three of us, for which case Andreas had a lighter. He didn't think it was a problem to come back without the original light. In fact, he never thought anything was a problem. For which his mother loved him and under which his elder brother suffered.
In spite of his often snide remarks about the sermon, he seemed to see something real in going to church, even as the cool young always uppity lad he was. I began studying the matter of theology later after he had already made his abitur, but this interest in the deeper sense of things may well have had its foundation in my admiration for Andreas. There were limits: I didn't take up building model airplanes out of balsa wood, nor did I share his excitement for math. I got a model train and in that began to follow Stephan, also by studying architecture and not aeronautics like Andreas.
He had long slender fingers with which he played the piano masterfully and any time his mother wanted him to do so, sometimes to entertain us. I also heard him playing when I was downstairs. I remember Album for Elise, but he also played all kinds of modern stuff. He loved Cast your Fate to the Wind. I did too, still do. He seemed always in a good mood and never overwhelmed by anything. He like irony and joking and he had a very winning smile, but most people thought he was arrogant as hell.
I am afraid that was a mirage and that his death may have something to do with the limits of the ability to have everything pearl off. His son had disabilities, his marriage was a mess. His career was impressive in the way of his education and less so in the application of his skills and knowledge. His more recent enthusiasm for India (Deutsch) was curious, a testament that behind all the rationality he presented, there was an ongoing search for something else, which he may have found in India, just like many less rational types have found it before.
Of course, I lost track what he was doing. Once in a while I heard that he had visited my father, I saw him when he attended my mother's memorial service. I heard that various attempts of engaging Wolfram in giving him Berlin connections didn't work out, but I never figured out why not.In the end, we all remain each other's mystery, especially men. I had long given up my attempts to be like him. The older we both became, the less up-upmanship was desirable. It was a bit like whistling in the dark. His much less ambitious father had become ever more charming and likeable, the older he became. The aging know it all Andreas was surrounded by a whiff of loneliness. Still, that my past idol would disappear so suddenly, and possibly in less than perfect circumstances, is disconcerting and, yes, it eliminates a small piece of me, too.
