Verhovayak Lapja, 1947 (30. évfolyam, 1-24. szám)
1947 / Verhovay Journal
PAGE 6 Verhovay THE FERRET SEZ ZZZmZZZZ^ZZZZZZZZ By Mrs. Jolán Lucas LOOK AHEAD! A tendor, wistful and sentimental evening was spent by your Ferret on the final official trip to Pittsburgh in October, as a member of the Auditing Committee. I rather wondered whether hot tears would ease the choked-up feeling which I was certain would possess me on that last casual stroll to the Penn Station. When I left the Home Office on that dull and dreary Saturday afternoon, after a final and silent tribute to the empty offices and desks, my primary instinct was to dash into the nearest tavern and drown my pent-up sorrows. However, as I stood outside the Verhovay Building, and looked around at the busy shoppers scurrying about their secret business, a sane and sober thought shot through me — Kid, life goes on as before, and only by accepting the toyings of Fate, with perhaps a backward wave of thankfulness for the addition of enriched experiences, can we look ahead to what lies beyond on the Road of Life! In imagination, I tightened my belt, hunched up my shoulders, and already had the feeling of pi-eparing myself for future accomplishments. A string of activities silently stretched themselves enticingly before me, but I tucked those into the background to mull over on the long, lonesome and dark trip home. This last evening was to be spent in crowding as many memories as possible into a few short hours, revisiting my favorite nooks and crannies; a trip as far as the Incline up Mt. Washington and still not daring a ride; dining in solitary splendor at my favorite eating place, being lulled into a deep-seated satisfaction to the accompaniment of my beloved Strauss Waltzes; a hurried dash to the Buhl Planetarium, which had to be done as my junior scientist, Skipper, would insist upon a re-hashing of the latest Sky Show and scientific displays; lingering in the Trick Shops for some new toy for Larry which would make him King-Bee for several days with his cronies; then just as the moon was digging its way thx-ough the Smog of Pittsburgh, a long stroll along my favorite river, the Allegheny, remembering with humorous warmth the time when a couple of friends adventured with me in recreating a scene from a Mary Roberts Rinehart murder mystery. I remember with a thrill of pleasure how keenly buoyed up I was by various ideas for brand-new activities in my little branch 120, adeptly aided by a Tom Collins here, a Bacardi and organ music there, or a bottle of Pabst and sentimental ballads at still another favorite and haunting retreat. Looking across the Monongahela at Mt. Washington, I remembered a trip to McKeesport in March, 1942, when Branch 395 members treated 429 members to an unforgettable day; and another Sunday evening travelling back from Springdale, Pa. after a wonderful afternoon of good eating, singing and enjoying life with Verhovay members from all parts of the country, and how the street lights on the hills appeared like stars brought close to earth for mortal humans to marvel over. The sight of the golden tower of the Grant Building with its blood-red beacon pointing a welcome finger to travel-weary pilots conjured up a last-minute thrill and a memory which will linger forever. I wanted to climb that tower and shout to the world that only by looking ahead and learning from past experiences can we progress. Four years of added knowledge, four years of new experiences, four years of delving into the intricacies of human nature cannot be called wasted. As I revisited each remembered and beloved shrine, pictures were constantly thrown upon the screen of my memories and I knew I’d never forget the City of Three Rivers, the Golden Triangle, the smoke and grit and smog which had clogged my nostrils and made my throat so raw. I had made friendships which would remain indefinitely; yes, enemies, too, but I accepted the falseness and shrewd conniving along with the goodness which I knew dwelt in the hearts of the majority of people. Yes, Lass, I sed myself, it takes all kinds to make a world, just as this great roaring city of smoke and steel has its Mt. Lebanon and Mt. Washington, and all the beautiful spots which I was fortunate enough to visit. No city, no world, would be complete without the shabbiness and shallowness of its dregs of humanity. Maybe, my thoughts ran on, we aren’t ready yet for a perfect Utopia such as writers in all ages dreamt about, Perhaps we haven’t nurtured our characters sufficiently to try and raise the standard by which we judge our fellow humans. As time drew near for the great iron horse to return me to my loved ones, my heart opened up to accept this last farewell with a bigness I didn’t know I possessed! The soot of passing trains didn’t choke me up as it did on my very first visit . . . it was just something which had to be; just as this tender farewell to a pleasant and erudite interlude was something which had to be taken in stride. I couldn’t resist a passing lilt, something feminine to the point of wistful childishness, “Well, Jo, you had a grand and unforgettable stretch which 60,000 members of the VFIA very seldom attain. Don’t stop now', but look ahead and see if the tolerance and understanding which bettered your character a trifle will carry you on to the next step on the lader of life!” The many weary hours of night travelling passed much faster than I expected. After a friendly word or two with my neighbor across the aisle, I slumped into my usual dream-’ world, a world in which the idea of VERHOVAY FRATERNALISM was not tarpished with the coating of Reality, a world in which all my dreams for the great VFIA would some day take concrete form. The new organizing system in process of completion was seriously considered . what would happen to the fraternal spirit if meetings and social events would take a back seat? Up pops a bowler and the National Bowling Tournament and I could see where the majority of V. members will have something big to look forward to each year. I couldn’t resist a cynical thought in comparing the bowling tournaments with the National Convention, bdt I could understand that a different type of people attend the Verhovay tournaments whose main interest is bowling, good sportsmanship and the friendly spirit. At sports meets of any kind, the rule is “the best man won” and I OF TRENDS AND FRIENDS I IN CHICAGO ( Branch 164 | By Midge Rettmann JoXXTTXClI November 12, 1947 It’s deadline time again and as usual I am trying to beat it. The days fly by so fast I need reminding prior to each column’s birth but let us hurry on to the STORK CLUB We hear that Mrs. Leo Whited, the former Mary Leban, has joined the ranks. Mary, a telephone operator, gives up basketball and baseball in favor of lullabies for recreation. Mrs. Theodore Janik also whispered her news of expectant motherly joys on the occasion of their 6th wedding anniversary, which was celebrated October 20th. The same news comes from Mrs. Ervin Tury, our new bride, and Mrs. William Chudek. That’s a nice collection for the Club and we only hope Dr. Stork will not decide to strike because of such a full schedule. CRADLE CLUB At 9:32 a.m. on October 5th, Michael Ernest Kunstadt made his rather belated and long-awaited arrival, at the Norwegian-American Hospital. Marvin and Irma are very happy at his advent, to say nothing of the proud grandparents, our Senior Mgr. and his spouse. October 1st marked the arrival of a baby daughter to Mr. and Mrs. John Kosi. Congratulations to these new parents! We hope they get much pleasure from these little bundles. WEDDING BELLS rang out October 25th to celebrate the merger of William Exner and Rose Kutska. A reception followed at Frank Balogh’s Balaton Inn where a goodly crowd joined in wishing our popular youngsters good luck and long life together. THE ENGAGEMENT of Barbara Kovacic to George Germak was announced late last month. The date of their marriage will be announced later. Congratulations! CHIT CHAT The long-lost Kantors, Frank, Lee and the baby, have returned from their year-long sojourn in “Sunny” California. The trip was made in the participants let it go at that; whereas conventions the world over are the same, and since I don’t want to spoil the sentimentality of this article, we’ll let it go at that. However, I’d like to add these few lines about “Conventions that Return Dividends”, which was the title of an article in a current issue of the Fraternal Monitor. A sentence in this particular item apealed to me, and I’d like to pass it on for what it’s worth . . . “Conventions are not unlike many other activities incidental to the life of modern business — you get out of them in proportion to what you put into them, whether it is personal participation or thoughtful interest and studied attention to the procedings.” Conventions are successful only if you can walk away from them feeling that a good job was done — and a good job WAS done! their 1923 vintage Chevy, with Frank proudly walking beside his treasure (to save wear and tear, perhaps?). The beginning of October brought news of our former columnist, Marge Stangret, now of Phoenix. She writes the Sr. K’s that although she has many things to do, she mises the old Chicago gang. No more so that you are missed, Marge. And when jitterbugging palls, fly back to Chi where you can indulge in a fastmoving csárdás. Our bowling teams are shaping up nicely and we have great hopes for the women this season. The combination of Marge Fodor, Sis Exner, Olga Kunstadt, Mary Schultz and Barb Kovack will be hard to beat. Our second team boasts of three gradmas — Marge Kunstadt, Betty Varga and Irene Exner. Then we add Vilma Lowry and Dot Risko to make up another first-class squad. Among the men, we have Bill Chudek, Schultz, Steinkellner, Leiner, Charles Korponya, gramp Exner, Lou Fodor and William Exner (provided he can tear himself away from his new bride). Our first team is comprised of John Kovács, Ernie Kunstadt, Bob and Jack Zubor, Willie Feifar and Joe Gerhardt — all beerframe bowlers. We hope to be able to publish results in the near future and are planning an a b'ang-up showing at the next Verhovay Bowling Tournament. This brings us to the close of the news from the Windy City, so until next month, I am Fraternally yours, Midge. EDUCATION IS ENDLESS The men we may justifiably call educated are simply the men who have never stopped their pursuit of the flying goals oi information and insight. When all is said and done, learning is a lifetime job. Education is endless. True education registers men at the cradle and graduates them at the grave. In many ways, the adult years are beter than youth for learning. There are some things we learn more effectively when years have énriehed us with experience. Research has proved that the best time, to learn anything is just before we ned to use it. And, finally, there are no better clues to learning than the difficulties that tax our personal, profesional, and public lives. TO THE CONTRIBUTORS The next issue of the Journal will be published on Wednesday, November 261 h. Contributions for that issue should be in not later than November 19th, Wednesday. Contributions should be typewritten, on one side of the paper only, double spaced, and not exceed 1,200 words, or 6,000 letters. Address contributions to VERHOVAY JOURNAL, ENGLISH SECTION, 436 Fourth Ave., Pittsburgh 19, Pa.
