Decades   May – 1982   She had never considered living in a place like this. Immense. Glorious in its heyday. Wide, winding staircase at the entry hall leading to the second floor. From the upstairs’ equally massive square hallway, four rooms opened, mimicking the layout of a cross. How fitting for a Presbyterian Manse. The women of the church had scrubbed every nook and cranny awaiting the arrival of the young, new Minister and his wife. They apologized about the colour of the living room downstairs. The in-between couple had painted it gray. The house committee offered to re-decorate
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Taking Flight He never met an airplane he liked. First off, while he understood that there was some scientific aerodynamic explanation, it was beyond his comprehension how nearly a million-pound metal contraption could ascend and continue flying through the air without plummeting. Secondly, he was never able to appreciate why passengers always applauded as the airplane came to a landing. Was that not the normal, intended outcome?  Or was that because, every single person was equally as anxious and relieved, as he was? His very first flight had been to London in the early 70s. White knuckled at take off
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Longing for Change Being twelve was feeling in between. An odd feeling really! There was the optimism of what lay ahead – thirteen and the teenage years. And there was the melancholy of having left behind the days when age didn’t seem to matter. At ten, there never lurked any confusion about age – except to look forward to the birthday party with friends. It didn’t matter if she were a girl or a boy. Her mates accepted her for who she was. Their mate. She could climb trees with them and not think about her underwear showing when she
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How many confirmations do we need? The mission is always the same. You don’t want this mission. It was put upon you, and you are stuck with it – a constant interruption of your life: a monotonous, exhausting routine, weekly on the same road to the same destination. You hope all goes well; but that’s not always the case. Then finally back on the road, relieved to be heading home. Transformation does not have to be a ‘Road to Damascus’ experience. It can be a simple down to earth occurrence. It can run into you – on the road at
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The Essence of Another Sophie always found it peculiar how others were fixated on discovering what the essence was of another person. She never understood or accepted the reason some gave: that it was a way to connect and thus form a meaningful relationship. She on the other hand regarded the reason to be the enquirer’s own need to feel comparable, if not better. Navel gazing about one’s life was one thing – a nice pastime when pursuing a life altering change. To make a personal open declaration about this, however, Sophie, deemed it entirely a different matter. Distasteful.  Having
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It is what it is How one reflects upon the past in relation to the present is based on personal perception and philosophy. From another standpoint, the matter is also about temporal reality. Regardless, whatever life one lives, at the time, it is what it is. As a child in Hungary, I didn’t know anything about owning a telephone, a television, never mind an automobile. Nor did I know that there were other races in my world besides people who cared about me; that included the man who had black skin and was the porter at the railway station. Yet,
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Birth and Anniversary Dates  It was Sunday, February 24th, 2001.  My father had just turned 70 years of age at the end of January. In many ways, that was a remarkable triumph, considering how difficult his life had been: being imprisoned in Hungary for 7 years, escaping from Hungary during the 1956 uprising, and starting his life all over again in a new country Canada – all the while suffering from debilitating rheumatoid arthritis which he acquired during his confinement in dark and dank prisons. Husband and I had just moved into our first house. As was my custom I
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Why Canada is Important to me We stepped off the ship in Saint John, New Brunswick on Easter, April 22, 1957. We were at last in Canada – our new home! I had turned nine years of age, while waiting to be processed in various Austrian refugee camps, since that Christmas. My father had chosen this country as our destination: the land of freedom. Canada had opened its doors to thousands of Hungarians following the October 1956 uprising there against tyranny, and the subsequent escapes. My family was among them. Father had been a political prisoner for nearly seven years,
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The Clock of Time How many rotations to turn back the clock – to halcyon days? And once there, how long could that time be maintained? A day, a week, a month – maybe forever? It was a house warming gift – way back when at the old house – where the afternoon sunshine glowed onto the wall-clock’s round face, from the wide picture window. The noise of each tick-tock was noticeable at first, until the sound became one with the rhythm of family life. Sometimes it was drowned-out by the young boy practicing on his chanter. Other times, it was
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