Itt-Ott, 1996 (29. évfolyam, 1/126-2/127. szám)
1996 / 1. (126.) szám
Góg és Magóg fia Dr. Molnár Ágoston beszéde az MBK bálon $. I am deeply touched and honored that the organizational committee of the Reménység Bál chose to invite me as a special guest for the ball. I miss not having Priscilla, my Piroska, at my side for this evening and special occasion. For forty-three years we were lifemates plus six more years as students. We were partners in all that began at Elmhurst College and continued from there on. Without her love matched by sacrifices — there were many — we could not celebrate 40 years of the American Hungarian Foundation, and without her giving herself so faithfully to the Magyar cause in America, I know, I would not be standing here this evening. People often ask, “How did you become involved in teaching Hungarian studies and the American Hungarian Foundation?” It started by sitting at the feet of my mother and especially my grandmother, who was a wonderful storyteller — mesemondó — in Hungarian. In our home our language was Hungarian. Mother, her mother, that is my grandmother, and my father used Hungarian. Father, after the evening meal in the kitchen, would read aloud for us children and other parts of the newspaper along with installments and novels carried there. My sister taught me the Lord’s Prayer in Hungarian evening after evening until I memorized it. She learned it first in church school during the summer vacation. Going to John Garfield Elementary School in Cleveland for kindergarten and first grade, I came home one day and told my parents that the principal asked me to return 15 minutes earlier each day after lunch for “peach” class. I didn’t understand why, nor did my parents when I said “peach” class. My vocabulary included fruits in English — but not “speech.” As a six year old in school, I learned that we can make paste by mixing flour and water and with some other ingredients. That same day at home I went to our garden of the and other plants, took off two snapdragons, put them in a cup of water, stirred it to make paste. Only then did I learn from my mother how paste is made. In our house and kitchen, flour was liszt, outside, with children and playmates, flowers bloomed in the garden. With the long illness of mother and her death, preceded by my maternal grandmother’s death also, our family setting moved from West 136th Street in Cleveland to the eastern suburb of Lyndhurst and to five acres of land, a small farm, where we had a cow, chickens, pigs, orchard, and land to plow; however, my father was not a farmer, he was a builder, a contractor, who built many churches, factories and houses, an achievement in his own right. My three years at Charles F. Brush High School and the four college years at Elmhurst College provided the training ground for the challenges and success in many facets of my life. Working with others as a team in school events and projects provided opportunities for leadership. My having been the editor of our high school yearbook, the editor of the Elmhurst College yearbook recommended to the Dean that this freshman, Gus Molnár, be the editor the following year. The Dean didn’t accept the idea at first, because a third-year student was editor always. He changed his mind — and the Elmhurst yearbook, with the help of an excellent team of other sophomores, second-year students, won honors and first place in competition in the State of Illinois for college yearbooks in 1947. Elmhurst College and its Hungarian Studies department and its professor, Dr. Barnabas 42 ITT-OTT 29. évf. (1996), 1. (126.) szám
