Hövelhof Revisited

The train I just left at Hövelhof Station is heading to Paderborn.

When I arrived with the local train at Hövelhof Station one hour late, my first worry was to miss Karl Epping's successor on a Friday afternoon.

I looked on the Internet and discovered that Karl Epping's meat factory had disappeared. Still, at the same site, Epping Green Energy was now located, i.e., from pork to photovoltaics or sausages to solar modules.

Click to enlarge (©Google Maps)

Hövelhof center. On the upper right, the train station and my Hotel Viktoria. On Parkallee; "Epping Green Energy." Behind is the site of the former meat factory, now transformed into a public square called Hövelmarkt.

I rushed to the address and rang the bell. The door opened, and I looked up to a man standing 6 feet 8 inches. "You must be the grandson," I murmured. 

Markus Epping, CEO of Epping Green Energy, invited me in and offered me a coffee. 

©Epping Green Energy

Markus wants to make his Senne community CO₂-neutral by relying on solar energy. Lately, he generously donated Hövelhof two e-bike charging stations for free use.

And then, I mostly talked about my childhood stay at the housing complex his grandfather Karl had built outside Hövelhof, now called Eppinghof. I told Markus I had spent one night with my mother and brother at his grandparents' house. On short notice, the British occupiers had ordered all people to leave their homes at Eppinghof to make room for Jewish women. They didn't come, so we could all return to our lodgings the following day.

The local church was the next stop on my visit to Hövelhof, but Markus warned me not to be disappointed. The complex was completely rebuilt in 1979 except for the two steeples.

I stood in front of St. Johannes Nepomuk, corner of Parkallee/Schlossstraße, where I saw the main entrance walled up.

New St Nepomuk's vast interior is in bungalow style, looking at the former main entrance.

So, I entered the church from the main entrance in the back.

Red Baron likes to light candles.

St. Nepomuk halfway up the wall, contemplating the cross. Why does Hövelhof honor a bridge saint without a significant stretch of running water? Read Nepomuk's legend here.

Click to enlarge (©Google Maps)

Then I walked down Schlossstraße. On my right is the town hall that was built where the village school used to be. Here, I turned left and took the long walk down Kirchstraße toward Eppinghof, located in the upper left corner of the map. 

Did I remember this prayer station on my way to school?

Note the many houses in the area that did not exist in 1944. At that time, Hövelhof had less than 5000 inhabitants. Now, the number is close to 16,000. The Eppinghof, where we lived at number 23, is still way out.

In 1945, only the houses on the outside of the street called Eppinghof
 - the odd numbers - were built. Click to enlarge (©Google Maps)

The "official" entry to Eppinhof is on the upper right via Gütersloher Straße. 

To the right is Bredenmeiers Kapelle, which we children avoided because it smelled damp and musty. Red Baron remembers that once in the year, the chapel is the destination of the Hövelhof Ascension procession. 

Red Baron learned, "The small chapel halfway to the Hövelhof church.was built in 1896 by the then-farm owner on the 'Kirchweg' to the Vollmeierhof* Bredemeier "

*A Meierhof or Meyerhof (from Latin: maiores villae) was a farm or building occupied by a noble or ecclesiastical estate administrator (the Meier).

"Inside the chapel is a copy of a Madonna from 1725 on loan from the farm owner; the original is still in the family today."

Turning around the corner, I saw the first Eppinghof house built. It is still in its original state. There, where the trailer is parked, we children were playing in the sand when a low-flying plane approached over the gable of the house and strafed us.

House 23, where we lived, was transformed into a bungalow. However, the two windows on the first floor and the entrance door are still in their original positions. 

I knocked at the door. A man opened it, listened to my story, and shut it again, quite unfriendly. 

Anyway, the second floor where my family lived was gone, so I was looking for other houses that were still in their original state.

Down the street, I found what I was looking for. Forget about the solar panels (Epping Green Energy?) and the skylights. The window on the house's gable is that of our kitchen/living room. Most impressively, on the outer wall of the gable wall, you can still see the square where the small window for venting the only mutual toilet used to be.

Being back in the village, I needed a rest. I had a pot of coffee and an enormous piece of cherry pie at Bäckerei Schuhmacher, located at the bifurcation of Gütersloher and Bielefelder Straße. 

©ludger 1961/Wikipedia

The green space opposite St. Nepomuk is flanked by the former unpretentious prince-bishop's hunting lodge, which now serves as the parsonage.

The Mahn- und Gedenkstätte für die Opfer von Krieg und Gewaltherrschaft (Memorial for the victims of war and tyranny) dominates the center of the site.

Here, as an example of the steles surrounding the memorial, the stele marked 1944 is shown when little Manfred came to Hövelhof.

A recent Hövelhof attraction is Hermann der Kantige (Hermann the Edgy). Red Baron blogged the story of Hermann the Cheruscan, also known as Arminius, and the Edgy is just a reminiscence of the original memorial near Detmold about which I blogged. 

I read, "A scaled-down copy of the Hermann Memorial was scanned. On this basis, a digital surface model was created. The then cut-out metal surfaces were welded together and then painted."

In the evening, Red Baron went to Hövelmarkt and had dinner at the Einstein. This central square is an attraction of the village.

With asparagus season over, I had the Sauce Hollandaise on a schnitzel (a specialty?) with Bratkartoffeln, as my mother used to make them with roasted onions and finely chopped bacon. Needless to say, I could not conquer the mass of getting used to schnitzel, but I ate all the fried potatoes.

*