The Eighth Tribe, 1976 (3. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1976-09-01 / 9. szám
Page 6 THE EIGHTH TRIBE September, 1976 sponsible for what we do with our hodies. One of his former students, now a physician in West Germany, mentioned at the 30th class reunion, that without the physical fitness he acquired through Prof. Grosz, he never could have survived the ordeal of concentration camp. He instilled into his pupils love instead of hatred. Alfred bácsi was the happiest when we were happy. There was an overtone of sentimentality at graduation in parting from the old “Alma Mater” in 1936. We didn’t know yet, what the future would bring. Everyone was going separate ways. We left, but Story (the old one) — a Slovak nickname for Prof. Grosz — stayed in Kezmarok. He faced pressure from the Nazis when he didn’t want to leave his home town with the German minority group before the end of the war. It was a goal of his life to help unfortunate, persecuted people during and after the war. During the war I was married to a mining engineer. Next to the Hungarian border, in a little mining camp, we experienced (with our first daughter) several changes of the front — then the Russian occupation. After Czechoslovakia became one of the satellite countries, we left with two small girls and my father, Alfred bácsi’s longtime friend. God was with us during those trying and dangerous times. In 1951, by then with three daughters, we started a new life in the Pacific Northwest. People in Kellogg, Idaho were good to us. We were so happy to be free and grateful to America for all the opportunities and challenges. From year to year we felt more at home and still do. We corresponded with Alfred bácsi. He never left a letter unanswered. Since he was very outspoken, we sometimes feared for his safety. Even if often harrassed by the Communists, his age protected him, especially in the later years. A few years ago, my brother who lives in Vienna, visited him. In January he found him sitting cheerfully at his desk in an unheated room and wearing his winter coat. During Christmas time, even this last one, he answered around 300 letters from his former students and friends who were scattered around the globe. At the age of 70, Prof. Grosz once reminisced, This is life, passing like a dream. Gone is the fairy tale world of careless childhood, the spring of youth, filled with illusions, gone is the steel strength of the hard working men. One cant hold back the dusk, filled with sometimes painful resignation. With my white hair I am in the midst of it. The name ‘Stary’ fits well now. Good mood is a scarce visitor. But I have a good portion of my humor left and no bitter disappointment, nor the bleakness of the present could kill my honest thinking and my clean idealism. And far in the past, like a disappearing rainbow in the sky, stands the spirit raising warm memories. The reaction of my girl friend, when she learned about Alfred bácsi’s passing away was: “I wonder — will my granddaughter Janice and your grandson Gabe ever have a teacher lige Prof. Grosz?” Looking back today, I feel, this life was a life of faith, with a noble purpose. We want to thank Alfred bácsi for his positive thinking, for his example of rare integrity. If these lines served to encourage somebody, it will be in his spirit. The blue forget-me-nots will stay a symbol. We won’t forget! Nadine Klobusicky
