For the time being, I'm going to look past the fact that the weather, for the most part was crummy this weekend.

I'm going to look past the fact that I bought a plastic boot that held three cups of beer, but could only "refill" it with up to two cups.

I'm also going to look past the fact that I spent most of my weekend listening to German bands playing American music.

In short, I'm going to forget all the things that for the most part, made German Fest's 30th anniversary, well ... forgettable.

I don't run the fest, I don't ever want to. All I know is, if it was my money, I'd probably spend it on bands that at least utilize the language. And since it's not my money, I guess I can be grateful that I got the chance to realize just how talented the local groups truly are, and how much the "young people" care about our culture, despite the politics of their predecessors.

But I'm going to look past all that stuff and focus on some good thoughts, namely why I'm so thankful that, from an early age, I was taught to take pride in my heritage.

My family came over to the United States in the 1950s. My father was born in Germany, my mother here in the U.S. Their parents were part of a cultural group in Milwaukee ... and that's how my folks met.

When I was born, my family was already heavily involved in the club. And as soon as I was old enough, I was entered in the club's children's dance group. My brother and sister followed and all three of us continued dancing for many years.

I took a lot of flak from classmates through the years because of this activity. As I got older, I managed to not care anymore, laughing at how sheltered an existence they lived compared to me.

Despite my eventual acceptance and pride in my extracurricular activities, I still managed to do a good job of separating my different "worlds;" I had my "work world," in which I associated mainly with co-workers. There was my "normal" world, which consisted of my mainstream group of friends from high school, college or what have you.

Then there was my "German" world, made up of people I'd met through my many years as a part of the dance group and various clubs. I had friends from my own group, form other groups in town and even those that I'd only see once a year, at our annual event.

Growing up, we didn't have the luxury of Facebook, e-mail or free long distance cell phones. If we were going to talk during the 52 weeks between events, we'd have to write letters or save up. Somehow, these friendships managed to become inseparable bonds over the years.

As I grew older, I still kept these friendships and "worlds" separate. I didn't really want to assimilate them. My "normal" friends wouldn't understand the "German" world. The professional part of my life would seem a lot less professional, I thought, if people what I did during my spare time.

Over the years, though, my worlds -- to seal a phrase from George Costanza -- started colliding. Friends starting attending events and befriending my German pals. Some started dating. Next thing I knew, I was attending events with a posse of friends, some of whom had but a trace in German blood in them.

So it was a truly spectacular feeling Sunday night, sitting at three picnic tables with my closest and dearest friends -- from all of my "worlds" -- as well as some members of my family.

I thought back to the kids in my grade and high school classes, who laughed at my participation and dancing background. I had to chuckle because while those kids were sitting and taking shots at me, I was traveling the world, making amazing friends and having the time of my life.

It's funny, sometimes, how our worst fears end up being the best things to ever happen to us. I'd always wondered what would happen if I brought "outsiders" into things, but I never imagined things would be this great.