Fraternity-Testvériség, 1964 (42. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

1964-03-01 / 3. szám

FRATERNITY

9

our toys. The church garden was our playground. In the inner courtyard we had a wading pool with a large green frog in its center. It was an ingenious fountain, wonderful to frolic under. On warm days breakfast was served in the grape-arbor. With our German nursemaid we were permitted to run around the little park surrounding the huge brick church. My parents, in the tradition of the country, taught us German first. Hungary is such a small country that its educated people had to learn foreign languages, if they were to keep up with European culture. We had the German nurse, so that from infancy our ears would become attuned to the language. Later French and English were to be mastered.

Melitta, Timothy and Livia were born after the war. When the youngest was six months old, father was invited to the mission field in America.

It was a fine fall day in 1922 when the S. S. Berengaria docked in New York harbor. There were little girls in bright Magyar costumes with flowers in their arms to greet us. Their elders were in

tears as the official words of welcome were spoken. We asked Mami

why the ladies were crying. She turned to us with tears in her own eyes and said: “They remember many years ago when they, too, arrived to these shores. Maybe they are a little homesick for their motherland.”

Then we were scooped up in eager arms and taken to the waiting cars. We shall never forget that first night in America. The parsonage was being fumigated and we were taken to the home of a parishioner nearby. She was unprepared for six little children, my parents and

Sister Rose, the deaconess. So a large mattress was placed on the

parlor floor and we were told to fall in. Though the children were

delighted with the novelty of this gypsy camping, Mami wasted no time in furnishing our new home.

The old parsonage on 69th Street still stands. It is a brownstone, just like every other on that side of the street. Fifteen steps led up

from the sidewalk to the entrance door. The front parlor and church

offices were on the first floor. The dining room, kitchen and small

breakfast room were on the floor above. All the bedrooms were on the top floor — two large and two so small that only a cot and a little table could be crowded in.

In the back, fire-escapes connected the two balconies opening from the kitchen and the office below. These overlooked the “garden” — a cement-covered small area with a dusty old maple tree.

From early spring to late fall we played on the balconies. When the rainy cold days of November arrived, we continued our play in the large kitchen. At times a knock on the radiator pipes would signal that Api’s nerves were on edge as he tried to concentrate on his work in the study below.

There were no regular office hours in the church. Our congregation, on the whole, was comprised of the folk of the lower middle class. They worked in factories and workshops until five and six. If they wanted to see the pastor about some problem — it was only in the evening hours that they could come. Many a dinner-hour or