Amerikai Magyar Hírlap, 2014 (26. évfolyam, 1-39. szám)

2014-10-03 / 38. szám

Always in my heart by Marta Fuchs The Author, Marta Fuchs, is a Professional Speaker and a Distinguished Psychotherapist who is the author of two books, Fragments of a Family: Remembering Hungary, the Holocaust, and Emigration to a New World, and Legacy of Rescue: A Daughter’s Tribute about her father and the Righteous Gentile who saved him. Marta was bom in Hungary after the war and escaped with her family to the U.S. in the wake of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution. Her website is www.martafuchs.com . It’s a fantastic human story, a love story of Marta’s 96 year old Hungarian mother who reunites with her lost long love after 70 years! Marta’s mother is an Auschwitz survivor and she was also the caretaker of Anna Frank. Part II We arrive and Mom is wide awake and wanting to know the details of our trip. “We’ll tell you tomor­row. We’re so tired!” “At least you could show me some pictures!” she insists. Henry takes out his iPhone and shows her photos of friends in Tokaj, relatives in Budapest, and the group photos of us with Marika and Péter at the cemetery in Slovakia. As Henry is about to put away the phone, Mom grabs his hand. “Egy pil­lanat! Let me see those pictures again.” She takes the phone and points to Péter. “He looks just like Bandi!” We all look at each other as Henry enlarges the photos for Mom to see them better. “I cannot believe it. That man looks just like Bandi, but a lot older. Who is he?” We explain while Mom continues examining the photos, not wanting to give the phone back. “You know what, Mom, let me email you the photos right now so you can keep looking at them because we need to leave and go to bed already.” We hug and kiss and leave as Mom gets out of bed and sits down at her computer to open her email. “Bisztos vagyok, I am sure of it. That man must be Bandi!” Mom says the second we arrive the next morning to take her to brunch. “I know it’s crazy. But you must write and ask him.” We look at each other. Is it possible? Every once in a while you hear about family members reuniting after countless decades, both believing the other was dead. Maybe this could be one of those cases? “OK, Mom, I’ll do it,” I offer. “Just tell me what you want me to say.” “Just ask him! I don’t care what you say. Just ask him if he is Bandi. You don’t have to say who Bandi was. But you can say he died. Or at least that’s what we were told.” Dear Péter - My family and I want to thank you and Marika again for helping us at the cemetery. We really enjoyed talking with you both and told our mother about our visit. When we showed her the photos of all of us, she immediately said that you look like someone she used to know whose name was Bandi. Please forgive me if I am intruding, but Mom insisted that I ask you whether you are, in fact, Bandi, who she thought had died during the war. Thank you for your kind reply, Márta Dear Márta - Marika and I also enjoyed meeting you. It was our pleasure to help you. As for my resemblance to your mother’s friend Bandi, I am afraid she is mistaken. Perhaps with old age and failing eyesight and her feelings for this Bandi, she saw something she wished were true. I am sorry to disappoint her. Please send our love to your dear family, Péter and Marika When I received Péter’s letter, I called Mom. She was so excited. “Anyuka, please don’t be disappointed. Here is what he says.” “I don’t believe it,” Mom interrupts before I finish reading the letter. “Why won’t he tell the truth?” “What do you think is the truth, Mom?” “Maybe Bandi escaped. Maybe he had to hide and somehow was able to hide as a priest. I don’t care if he’s a priest! I just want to know if it’s him! ” “How about you write to him, Mom?” “I can’t write anymore. My handwriting is so shaky. I used to have such a beautiful handwrit­ing, you remember?” “It doesn’t matter. Just write a few words and maybe he will answer to you directly.” Dear Péter - My daughter read me your kind letter. It was very nice of you to write, but not very nice of you to not tell the truth. I know I am old and yes, my eyesight is not so good anymore. But I know Bandi when I see him and in the photo of you I see him. I hope you will write to me. I wish you and Marika well, Ilona Weeks go by and there is no letter from Péter. “Well, he’s a busy priest in a small town, Anyuka,” I offer, “plus you know how long letters take coming from Hungary.” A couple months later and still no letter. Mom calls me. “Why isn’t he writing? That’s not very nice. Why don’t you call him?” “How about this, Anyuka. I’ll ask Henry if the next time he sees you, the two of you call together. I think you should be the one to talk with Péter.” A few days later on Sunday morning, Henry and Mom called Marika’s number. It’s evening there. Marika answers. “I am sorry, but Péter is already asleep. He had his usual early morning mass and then a busy afternoon with activities for the children.” “Do you know if he received my mother’s letter?” Henry asks. “Yes, it is sitting on his desk. Was there something your mother requested that I could help with?” “Well, just tell him we called and that when he gets a chance, to please write. My mother is looking forward to hearing from him soon.” Six long weeks later the letter arrived. Mom called me in tears. Of joy? Of sorrow? Or both? Dear Ilona - Where do I begin? I never thought this day would come. For so long I have been hiding from myself. There was no other choice. But to reveal myself now, after all these years? Only Marika knows and she has been asking me why I haven’t replied to your letter. You know, Péter, she pointed out, you always tell people that they should tell the truth. It’s time you do that, too. But how do I begin to tell you, my dear lea, what hap­pened so many years ago that resulted in who I am now? It doesn’t matter. We are old and only the good Lord knows how much time we have left on this earth. I am happy to know you are alive and well, with such a beautiful family. I always wanted the very best for you. Take good care of yourself. Szeretettel, Péter/Bandi “I told you! Your mother is not so stupid. You don’t forget the love of your life, no matter how many years have passed.” Dear Bandikám - I knew it was you. I am so happy to know you are alive. I waited 5 years for you, as I had promised you. Even after your mother sent me the telegram that said your labor battalion had disap­peared. I wished and hoped you survived and that we would be together. Many people in Tokaj knew that I was waiting for you. What if he comes home with half a leg, then what will you do? they would ask me. But I really loved you and I respected that you didn’t want to marry for just one night. When you did not come back, I married a wonderful man, Fuchs Miksa, who patiently waited for a year while I waited for you. We had a good life. He was a good man, Miksa. You met our wonderful children and our four beautiful grand­children. I cannot complain. I always thought about you. You were always in my heart. Szeretettel, Ica Dear Icukám - I knew from Mother that you had married Miksa but by then it was too late. I did not want to ruin your new life. Mother told me that you stayed with her in Budapest when you and your sisters managed to make it back after liberation. She said she could hardly recognize you. You told her that your uncle advised you and your sisters to stay a while before you go home to Tokaj so that you would have some human form. I have tried not to think about horrors you must have suffered. And I don’t want you to suffer any more, my dear lea, by telling you what happened to me. We now just have to thank the good Lord that we are well. Write soon. Szeretettel, Bandi Dear Bandikám - When I stayed with your dear Mother after the war, did she tell you that she urged me to marry your brother? Bandi is not coming back. Here is János. He is a good boy. You can be very happy together, she kept saying. But how could I do that? I told her. It was you I was in love with. I just had to wait for you and wait I did. Why did it take so long for you to contact her? I didn’t marry Miksa until February 1946. You must tell me what happened. Ica To be continued in the next issue October 6th a day of mourning for the Hungarian nation The Thirteen Martyrs of Arad (Hungarian: Aradi vértanúk) were the thirteen Hungarian rebel generals who were executed by the Aus­trian Empire on 6 October 1849 in the city of Arad, then a part of Hungary, after the Hungarian Revolution (1848-1849). The execution was ordered by the Austrian general Julius Jacob von Haynau. In a historic speech on March 3, 1848, shortly after news of the rev­olution in Paris had arrived, Lajos Kossuth demanded parliamentary government for Hungary and constitutional government for the rest of Austria. The Revolution started on March 15, 1848, and after military setbacks in the winter and a successful campaign in the spring, Kossuth declared independence on April 19, 1849. By May 1849, the Hungar­ians controlled all of the country except Buda, which they won after a three-week bloody siege. The hopes of ultimate success, however, were frustrated by the intervention of Russia. After all appeals to other European states failed, Kossuth abdicated on August 11, 1849, in favor of Artúr Görgey, who he thought was the only general capable of saving the nation. On August 13, 1849, Görgey signed a surrender at Világos (now Siria, Romania) to the Russians, who handed the army over to the Austrians. The thirteen Hungarian generals were executed by hanging at Arad on October 6, 1849, with the exception of Arisztid Dessewffy and two others, because of their friendship to the Prince of Luxembourg. Hang­ing was deemed as humiliation. On the same day, Count Lajos Bat­thyány (1806-1849), the first Hungarian prime minister, was executed in Pest at an Austrian military garrison. Hungarians have come to regard the thirteen rebel generals as martyrs for defending the cause of freedom and independence for their people. Arad is remembered on October 6th as a day of mourning for the Hungarian nation. Legend has it that while the revolutionary leaders were being executed, Austrian generals were drinking beer and arrogantly clink­ing their beer mugs together in celebration of Hungary’s defeat. Hun­garians thus vowed never to clink glasses while drinking beer for 150 years thereafter. There is no explanation for the specified timeframe of 150 years. 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