Fraternity-Testvériség, 1964 (42. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1964-03-01 / 3. szám
8 FRATERNITY was a scholarship waiting at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland. When he returned a year later, the Bishop, recognizing his capabilities and the ease with which he spoke English, delegated him to the Protestant conventions held at Geneva and The Hague. Api was by temperament very intense, quick of action, rather the nervous type. Grandpa always joked that Api was always on the run. Mami was the exact opposite. She was calm, serene and of a very gentle nature. I was born on my parents’ first wedding anniversary as they were preparing to attend a family celebration in Budapest. Before the night was over, there was a double celebration in the parsonage. Six months later the first World War broke out. Api was sent as an army chaplain to the southern border town of Pécs. My sisters Magdalene and Klára, and brother Gideon were born during the war years. In 1918 a Bolshevik revolution broke out in Hungary. One day all the professors at the Reformed Theological Seminary were rounded up to be shot. In the confusion Api slipped out a back door and went home to say goodbye to his family. Mami would not let him return to the Seminary. She spent that night on her knees praying. In the morning there was a telephone call from police headquarters. It was a young man by the name of Géza Réz. He told Mami not to worry any longer. A mistake had been made. The arrests were unauthorized. Upon further investigation it turned out that Mr. Réz had been a prisoner of war in Russia. He had seen so much suffering and misery there that when they sent him back as a commissar, he could not bear the thought that Hungary would be turned into a communist country. He attended the Calvin Square church and had heard my father preach. Since he was living in the Seminary dormitory, though not enrolled as a student, he witnessed the arrests and protested. Of course, we knew it was a direct answer to prayer. Under Mami’s wings we lived such a sheltered life that we knew nothing of the war and very little of the hard years that were to come. But she kept a diary for each of her children, and it was from these writings that I could piece together jut what happened during those turbulent days in Hungary. We spent our summers at Pécel. Grandpa Francsek designed the manor-house with its graceful towers and wide terraces built at different levels. There were tennis courts, a swimming pool, orchards and a greenhouse for our enjoyment. Our uncle, István, the mayor, lived nearby and it was in his car that we travelled back and forth to Budapest — only an hour away. Very early in our childhood we learned the joys of a large family. Whenever we played school, wedding party or grocery store, there were enough kids for all the roles. There was an old black leather chair in the study that served as the carriage. We would perch on the arms of the chair with our feet dangling over the seat and pretend that we were going to a ball like Cinderella. Our nursery was a large room with all the furniture painted white. Heavy chests held
