Itt-Ott, 1982 (15. évfolyam, 1-4. szám)

1982 / 1. szám

egy gondra járó szövegeit beilleszthette volna egy keményen csörrenő logika láncolatába is, dee helyett a vízió, az érzelem-társítások módszerét választotta. A magára maradó, az elválás nélkül is özvegy Kovács Jánosné ugyanabból a mélységből szólal meg mint a cipőfűzőjével bajoskodó lángész; Ady. Az értelem rendje mindkettőjüknél más, de az érzelmeké ugyanaz. A sorsuk is.

"Magyarországon a felejtés emészt a legjobban" — írta le épp egy Adyról szóló tanulmányában Németh László. Ha Tompa olvasta valaha ezt a mondatot, nagyon megjegyezhette. Minden idegszálával ez ellen a pusztító felejtés ellen hadakozik. Műsora lehetne halottaknapi szerenád is a nemzetnek. De inkább tűszurás lett és csontböködés. Hogy aki még nem tompult el a gondosan adagolt altatóktól, szisszenjen föl, essen kétségbe, s az esten föltoluló kérdésekre személy szerint maga is keresse a válaszokat.—

©KTÖBIl fflWISKOlSífflAffiOMI Éltető J. Lajos (Portland. OR);

ON THE TWENTY-FIFTH ANNIVERSARY (Delivered at the MBK's commemorative dinner, Portland, November 6, 1981)

A twenty-fifth anniversary is always special. In our culture we measure eras in centuries, and twenty-five years is a half-century's half; it is special, too, because it is the first major anniversary at which a new generation has grown up since the original event, and the last when the majority of its adult survivors is still alive to tell about it. Another twenty-five years, and the event has become history, most of its witnesses dead — and the anniversary, if still celebrated, is then no longer a memento but a symbol, which the living must learn to interpret over and over again.

So it is with October 23. For those who witnessed that day in 1956 as participants or as observers, it is a date that brings back personal recall; yet it is already becoming a symbol, too, as we retreat, slowly, before the next generation.

I shall not deal with the memories; they may be related, but each of us has his own. Nor shall I talk about the facts themselves, for those may be learned with little effort, by reading a bit about them — they were not, after all, very complicated. What concerns me is the symbol into which the human mind shapes the facts and the data, the symbol whose content is determined by the mind that perceives. Does October 23 represent a revolution or a counterrevolution? A success or a failure? Is it a positive or a negative symbol? Is the anniversary a somber, or a happy one? The answer, based on the identical facts, depends on who it is that percieves them. A confirmed member of the Soviet Communist Party will obviously have a different interpretation of the events of 1956 than we, who are gathered here tonight. But even we may not agree totally, for it all depends on what we bring into the viewing process in attitudes, values, beliefs, faith, philosophy or even dogma at any given time. If we nevertheless evaluate the symbol of October 23 similarly, that is because we hold at least some of the above in common.

I, for one, believe that the Hungarian people won their fight in 1956. Not only in the first few days of the struggle, as is commonly proposed, but also in the longer view. To be sure, the victory was a very limited one — but then the war, too, was limited. We must

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