William Penn Life, 2019 (54. évfolyam, 2-5. szám)
2019-05-01 / 5. szám
Tibor s Take ing the holidays. For example, each Dec. 6 my siblings and I would wake up and scurry down the steps to the front door where we had left our shoes the night before. There, we would discover that Saint Nick had stopped overnight, filling each shoe with treats, toys and money! Even this Dec. 6, old Saint Nick still managed to send me a box containing shoes filled with Christmas szaloncukor, candy and paprika. Recently, I came across an old photo of my mom and I from my high school football playing days. It was taken after a game on a cold and rainy day, and I was pretty much covered in wet, dark brown mud. It made me remember that after every game my mom had either chicken soup or chicken paprikas simmering on the stove for me when I came home. What a wonderful way to warm up after a tough game in the trenches. Another photo brought me back to "Nationality Day" in elementary school when my mom made for my entire class huge plates filled with Hungarian and Slovak baking goods. In my old bedroom, there is a framed full-sized photo of me standing by my Grabber Orange Mustang with the entrance to St. Margaret of Hungary church in the background. I recall not wanting to stand for a photo —I was 17 then and far too cool for it. My mom took a photo anyway. The church may be gone, but the car is still here. In fact, my mom likes to drive it around; she likes it when folks in town think that she's "stolen" it from me without my knowledge. The loud engine and ostentatious paint job remind us both of simpler times. I like to think that my mom will still be going for a joyride in my old Mustang for many years to come. Speaking of simpler times, my mom would "uniform" for us kids when we would go to Hungarian picnics. We were all less than eight at the time, but I vividly recall that my mom would ensure that we were impeccably outfitted in Hungarian folk garb, spending many hours ironing and creasing arctic white dress shirts, frilly Matyó embroidered blouses with layered skirts, and black pants that had a pleats so sharp that they looked like a knife edge. She would shine our shoes so brightly that even a boot camp drill sergeant Points to Ponder.... • The impact of motherly love comes from many other women in our lives. Don’t forget those special ladies. Be sure to send to them a special heartfelt thank you this Mother’s Day. • If you have a special Hungarian mother moment, event or tradition that you would like to share, please send me an email or write to the WPA Home Office explaining what your édesanya did for you! Tibor would be envious of such luster. After a hearty breakfast and a bath time scrub down, we were lined up like cars on an assembly line as she went from one to the other putting us in our wardrobes. Her rules at the picnic were simple: no food, drink or playing on the playground equipment at the Hungarian picnic grove in Hiram, Ohio until she gave us permission to do so. For little children, such edicts were torturous. We eagerly awaited her "nod of permission" that released us to go explore through our version of the Hundred Acre Wood adjoining the Cuyahoga River. But Heaven forefend if we got mud on our shirts or shoes! My mom also goes out of her way to support my brother in his cimbalom playing. Back when he was first starting out, my mom would make dozens of Moon Cakes and lemon squares for many of those playing venues that were willing to give my brother a shot. Now and then, she also steps in as an additional "roadie," providing extra muscle to help lift and transport the large concert-grade cimbaloms from home to location and back. Around this time of year, my mom eagerly awaits our return for Easter so she can assist the Easter Bunny with dying eggs and hiding chocolate eggs while we make sárga túró (Easter cheese) and other Hungarian goodies. With a granddaughter now old enough to hunt her own Easter eggs, my mom continues our family traditions. My mom has an amazing capacity for memory. She is sure to remind us of the anniversaries, birthdays and other significant milestones for our close family and friends, both those living and those in Hungarian Heaven. I wish my memory was as good. I'm sure that I've missed something obvious, but it's just too hard to list the many Hungarian-style things my dear, sweet mother has done for me. To all you who are mothers or are mothers-in-spirit, I wish you all a Happy Mother's Day. ************************************************************** A special note: Mark your Hungarian events schedule for Saturday, June 8, for the Lake County Captains Annual Hungarian Night. Special Magyar activities and promotions will take place as well as live cimbalom music and red, white and green post game fireworks. Tibor Check, Jr., is a member of Branch 28 and an attorney working in Washington, D.C. Tibor II WILLIAM PENN LIFE 0 May 2019 0 7
