William Penn Life, 2004 (39. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
2004-08-01 / 8. szám
received. Our relatives were gracious, kind and generous. The meals were unbelievable, and the hospitality was overwhelming. I finally felt like I was a part of my ancestral homeland, at least in spirit. There was a distinct difference between the Hungarians in the city and the Hungarians in the village. Even though lifq was hard in the village, the people there exhibited a greater sense of family and community than did their fellow Hungarians in Budapest. In the village, neighbors were friendly and helped one another. Families were tight and cared for each other and their close relatives. The village was one big family. When I returned to my home in Beaver Falls, Pa., in August 1991, I carried many memories with me and had mixed emotions about the homeland of my ancestors. After a while, I began to think about the beauty of the country, the greatness of the heritage and the richness of the Hungarian spirit. I knew that this had been a unique time in History-a time marked by the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Hungary and the beginning of a new life for the Hungarians. Where would it lead? How would the Hungarians adjust to their new freedom and new economy? How long would it take to make these adjustments? Little did I know that I would be able to see with my own eyes those remarkable changes that come with new hope and vision when I returned to Hungary in June of 2004. [Ml Next Month: "Return to Hungary" THE FIRST TIME I traveled to Hungary was in July 1991. I had always wanted to see this unique place where my grandparents were born. They, as well as my husband, Endre Csornán, came to America while in their teens. The undeniable draw of this foreign land was compelling to say the least. Being a third generation Hungarian in America, I had a love for the food, the culture and the language. I don't remember actually being taught the language, but, somehow, I knew the words. I grew up around Hungarians-first as a member of the Hungarian Reformed Church of Duquesne, Pa., then, after moving to Pittsburgh while attending junior high school, as a member of the First Hungarian Reformed Church of Pittsburgh. I remember my parents would speak in Hungarian when they wanted to discusss something that they didn't want me to hear. Yet, I did understand. I don't think they ever knew how much I comprehended. My first trip to Hungary was very exciting as I would be seeing my daughter, Kati, for the first time in almost a year. She had been working at the American Embassy in Budapest since September 1990. When I arrived in Budapest, the culture shock was beginning to set in. The people in the city were unfriendly and rude. I had expected everyone to love me because I was an American Hungarian. But it was not so. I realized after a while that much of the attitude and frustration of the people came from their life under Communism. I remember looking at the faces of the people in the subway, and they all looked the same—lifeless and sad. When Kati and I would go to the village on the weekends to visit with relatives, we were warmly Branching Out with Endre Csornán Culture in Hun by Arlene Csornán (This article is the first part of a two-part series by my wife, Arlene, recounting two trips she has taken to Hungary: the first in 1991, the second in 2004. - E. Csornán) Williu Pen Life, August 2004 3
