Verhovayak Lapja, 1941. január-június (24. évfolyam, 1-26. szám)

1941-05-08 / 19. szám

ENGLISH EDITION — ■ .i ■■■■■■■ i ■■■............... ■■■■—— SECTION TWO Supreme Treasurer Varga Passes Away After an ailing condition which kept him intermit­tently in and out of bed, Michael J. Varga, Supreme Treasurer of the Verhovay Fraternal Insurance Associa­tion, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, died suddenly at 2:00 A. M. Monday, April 28, 1941. Born fifty-five years ago in the famous Reformed collegiate town of Sárospatak, County of Zemplén, Hun­gary, Mr. Varga at an early age immigrated with his parents to The United States and acquired the greater part of his education and training here. The Varga family settled in South Bend, Indiana, where most of Mr. Varga’s friends and acquaintances are living. In 1930 Mr. Varga came to the Verhovay Home Office in Pittsburgh and took up his duties as supreme treasurer of the Association, and ably and faithfully continued in that responsibility until the very last few days before his death, when he was no longer able to ward off the in­evitable. The body was laid out in the beautiful and spacious Beinhauer Mortuary, where hosts of admirers and abun­dance of flowers testified vividly to the popularity of a good and honorable man. News of the death had been quickly sent to the chief officers of the Verhovay and the Hungarian press, and within a short time responses came from far and wide. On the morning of May 1, the day of the funeral, at 8:30, the entire Home Office personnel, the Board of Directors, the Auditing Committee, District Organizers, Branch Officers and Representatives from the Hungarian Press assembled in deep silence to await the coaches that would take them to the funeral home to pay their final respects in a body to the deceased. Arriving at the mortuary, the imposing group filed singly past the body to take a last look at the mortal remains of a fellow officer, fellow member or friend. Then the funeral cortege headed for St. Paul’s Cathedral, where Solemn Requiem High Mass was celebrated. Wait­ing at the church were many out of town people, especial­ly friends from South Bend. After the completion of the ceremonies of the Mass, the body was taken to its destination, Calvary Cemetery, where final religious rites were held, and before the body of Michael J. Varga was lowered to its earthly resting place, Supreme President Joseph Darago in eloquent and heart­rending words tearfully bade his fellow officer and mem­ber farewell — “Isten veled, Varga Mihály! (God be with you, Michael Varga!)” Pallbearers were Directors Bertalan Kun, Julius Macker, Louis Vizi, Supreme Secretary John Bencze, President of the Auditing Committee Stephen Lukacs and Home Office employee Stephen Gabor. Honorary pall­bearers were Supreme President Joseph Darago, Vice- President Directors Joseph Szalay and Albert Ari, Di­rectors Frank Brogley, Moses Csömör, Andrew Dobos, Jr., Stephen Lang, Dr. Joseph H. Prince, Emery Siket, John Szalanczy, Supreme Auditor Coloman Revesz, members of the Auditing Committee Louis Hemitz and Julius Lenart, and Home Office employee Zoltán Nemeth. Representing the Hungarian Press were Andrew Fay Fisher, of the Associated Hungarian Weeklies, Detroit, Mich., and Zoltán Gombos, editor of the Szabadság. And others, too numerous to mention, were present to pay their final tribute. Surviving Supreme Treasurer Varga are his widow, Mrs. Mary Varga; five sons, Michael J., Jr., Joseph, Julius, Mother Dear (For Mother’s Day) Mother dear, we love you so, Our everlasting love shall never die, as thru all the years we go. You deserve all that we can give you. Nothing you ask is too great. But please accept our love as your greatest gift, Altho this world is so full of hate. Dear Mother, how can we ever forget all you have done for us. Ah! how well we remember when we were just “kids,” How you consoled us when we had our little troubles; Over every bruise and scratch you made such a fuss. You told us bedtime stories, then gently tucked us in. How we knelt and said our evening prayers. For if we didn’t you said it would be a sin! Darling Mother, you have made our lives so happy, Sharing our every happiness and woe. You are the dearest, sweetest mother in this whole wide world— I know! No other can ever take your place, dear Mother of my heart. TO OUR CONTRIBUTORS The English Edition is pub lished the SECOND and LAST Thursdays of every month, and the Saturdays IMMEDI­ATELY preceding them are considered the closing dates for contributions. Contributions intended for the May 29th issue should be in before or on May 24th. No assurance of publication in particular issue can be given for material received after that date. Address contributions to ENGLISH SECTION, VERHO VAY JOURNAL, 345 FOURTH AVENUE, PITTSBURGH, PA RAIN SONG Pitter-patter, pitter-patter all day long; Rain against my window softly beats a song; Sweet, slow rhythm heard within my cosy room; Perfect song of liquid notes dispelling gloom. Eagerly the thirsty earth regains its radiant glow; Drinking in the fragrant rain. Soon the buds will show Loveliness or rainbow hues beneath skies of blue Sunlight drives away the rain. Everything is new! —Amelia Nyers Branch 132 South Bend, Indiana (American First Serial Rights) No one but our Lord above can ever from you make us part. I love you tenderly, Mother dear, hard to express in words how deeply I care. You aren’t just a mother, you’re a pal, and with you all my secrets I share. For you each morning and evening I pray, and to find a mother more precious I would have to travel a long, long weary way! —“Trixie” of Yatesboro, Pa. A LAPSED POLICY SPEAKS . . . “I am a lapsed policy—a lifeless piece of paper.. Once I was a live contract—the abiding place of hope, faith, security. Potentially, I was food, clothing, shelter, a new source of income to replace income destroyed by death or old age. I pulsated with strength and vitality. I had the power to support a family; to save a home; to discharge debts; to educate children; to provide the com­forts and a few of the lux­uries of life. I was the means of guaranteeing a certain sum at an uncertain time. I was a valued asset, im­mediately convertible into cash in the twinkling of an eye, at the call of death. “He whose life I insured received his final summons. Death called, and when the call came it found me lapsed and powerless. I heard the widow’s gasp of surprise. I heard her heart-breaking cry of bitter disappointment. I heard the piteous sob of an­guish as it fell from her lips. Her tears stained my crumpled form. Her hope ended in despair. Her faith was shattered into a thou­sand pieces. Her courage and strength forsook her. Her protection was gone. “I am a lapsed policy. My life and power have depart­ed. My creator, the insur­ance agent, was enthusiastic to create me but he neglect­ed to save me. No home can I save. No debts can I pay. No widow can I support. No children can I educate. No comforts, no luxuries can I provide. I am helpless and valueless. I am the tragedy of life insurance.” —Holicoa Review. SPECIAL NOTICE Some contributors have been watting until the last minute to send in their contributions. This delay may prevent articles from appearing in the issue for which they were intended. Kindly send in your contributions as early as possible — even before the deadline—for “first come first served.” Thomas and Paul; two daughters, Mrs. Ella Parker and Miss Marguerite Varga; a sister, Mrs. Steven Emery; and a brother, Emery Varga. Michael J. Varga is dead. But to those who knew him intimately and were associated with him in their daily work, he shall live on in beautiful and inspiring memory.

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