William Penn Life, 2013 (48. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
2013-06-01 / 6. szám
Tibor's Take with Tibor Check, Jr. Home is where the heart is, but where is the heart? WHILE TOURING HUNGARY with WPA last autumn, my parents observed that Magyars live in austerity compared to Americans. My apa even suggested that his money earmarked for charity be rerouted to our brothers and sisters in Hungary. I agreed with him in principle but questioned if those Hungarians were really worse off than American Hungarians. My great-grandparents came to America from Csőt, Hungary. They were processed through Ellis Island two years apart and settled in different areas. Mihály Cseh and Mend Kadi eventually were married at Szt. István Church in Youngstown, Ohio. Except for a semi-annual visit to relatives in Detroit, they never traveled more than 60 miles from home. I have seen photos of their homestead in Youngstown and their beautiful garden that sat on a double-sized lot. If I didn't know better, I would be convinced that the photos were taken in Csőt. It was their own little piece of the homeland. Their friends, church, clubs and associations were Hungarian. For all intents and purposes, they were living in "Hungary, USA." The children of my great-grandparents were raised, lived and eventually passed away in the Youngstown area, including Nagypapa (Grandpa) Cseh, Uncle Mike, and Aunts Gena and Olga. They lived no more than a 10-minute drive from each other. They never felt a need to move in order to better their lives, as my great-grandparents did in the 1910's. My father and his cousins were not that fortunate in terms of staying in the Y-town area. All but two relocated to other areas of the country. The need to relocate was due mainly to the collapse of the steel industry in Youngstown and the subsequent loss of employment opportunities. This was not a circumstance unique to Youngstown. Our society and upward mobility make cross-country moving the norm rather than the exception. The old adage, "home is where the heart is," is difficult to accept for many American Hungarians. The homes once owned by earlier generations are either long gone or inhabited by people we have no connection to. When a person moves far away from home, the perks of living close to one's extended family are gone. That naturally-provided support within the family—so varied and invaluable—is missing. There are no more readily available playmates, confidants, babysitters, chauffeurs or willing spectators for school concerts and events. Holidays are a little less hectic but also a little less merry. Nevertheless, you move to where the jobs are. With a job and eventual career advancement comes added income. With that added purchasing power, we can buy or acquire additional stuff. Most of the additional things we buy are for convenience. Take food, for instance. How many of us can claim that we grow most of our food? It's easier to buy our staples at a store, and much of what we buy is prepared at a factory. Real homegrown and prepared food has much more to offer. Do you really know what is in the food you buy? When a person grows and produces their own food, they know it is pure and not contaminated with harmful chemicals and pesticides. Now, let's examine the lives of my relatives in Csőt. Most of the family lives in close proximity to each other in a small village of around 1,000 people. My cousin András lives in the house that my great-grandfather was born in. His sister lives two blocks away. Another cousin lives on Kossuth Street only 300 yards away. The factory that supports much of the town's economy is about a three-minute walk west. The in-laws and their families live in the next village, a mere two miles away. Cousin Olgi works the furthest away. She works in Pápa, about nine miles from home. They make their own food. They run a small pastry and coffee shop while supplying lunch to the factory workers via a mobile canteen-type serving vehicle. They raise their own pigs, chickens and ducks. They grow potatoes, wheat, corn and barley. Any food they do not grow they barter and trade for. The church, school and even the cemetery are a short stroll away. They have horses for riding and recreation. Access to the internet, phone and television are readily available. They see each other on a daily basis. Through our internet correspondence, I realized they assume everybody in America has this same type of "Mayberry" lifestyle. When we sent them a copy of my January 2012 Tibor's Take about my family making hurka, they were surprised that such a story would be worthy of publication and that very few American Magyars make Point to Ponder.... Last month, I toyed with the idea of switching my WPA membership to the branch closest to my current residence. Since that time, I was contacted by a distinguished Branch 28 member who knew my great-grandparents. She assured me that Mihály and Menci would be so proud of my siblings and me. She further remarked that having four generations of the Cseh family as members in the same branch is something to be proud of in its own right. “Home is where the heart is,” she said. “Branch 28 will always be your WPA home!” - Tibor 6 0 June 2013 0 William Penn Life
