Flashback: My first wife Brigitte Tamara

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This was Brigitte Tamara Krempus's dream in 1967 when I first met her in Moscow. She had graduated from ballet school, performed well but was considered "too old and too angular" to make it into the fall line-up of the Kierow ballet. So she had decided to focus on teaching and became quite well known for her handling of the aspiring little brats and their demanding parents.
I was in Moscow as a foreign correspondent for an Austrian paper and a news agency, mainly because I spoke the language and had been the "old Russia hand" at my paper, having covered the fledgling SALT talks long before SALT 1 became a reality on November 17, 1969. I was even allowed to interview chairman Leonid Brezhnev which should warrant another chapter in itself because we never talked politics, rather as a collector and connoisseur of vintage cars, he had found out that I was of a like mind and we discussed the relative merits of the BMW six cylinder engine versus the venerable Jaguar 3,8 liter six. He owned examples of both...
After interviewing Tamara (the only name she ever really used) I was smitten. I had been introduced to her father, academician Dr. Feodor Krempus, renowned teacher of German and German literature at Moscow University and chaperone of his precious 19 year old daughter. I think I spent more time and effort in the ensuing three months in courting Papa than Tamara but love prevailed and she was granted permission to join me in Vienna to work as a ballet teacher, a job secured through our cultural attache.
We were married in December 1968 to the delight of my granddad and the dismay of my dad who did not want some "Commie Dancing Floozy" to contaminate our well inbred family. We did well without him and had a loving and harmonious marriage and partnership until her tragic death  when she and our little son Ruben Alexander were killed by a drunk driver in Vienna.
The reason for this flashback is that you will meet her later in a few stories in which she played either a lovely cameo performance to my bungling or a pivotal role in assisting me in my work
I shall always miss her.


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