I shared some of this on the last night of our trip, but now I have had a few days to reflect, I realize even more how much this trip has been a life changing event for me. When I first visited Budapest I was still a student. Peter and I were newly married and beginning the exciting adventure of living and studying in the UK. I was rejecting American materialism and thought that I would find a kinder, gentler world in Europe. I had stars in my eyes about communist states and thought that despite the Stalinist atrocities, Marx had basically gotten it right -- "from each according to his ability, to each according to his need". At that time I didn't know that Peter was Jewish, so of course I didn't know that most of the people we met in Budapest were also Jewish -- and they were in no hurry to enlighten me.
What began as a study abroad experience ended up being a stay of 8 years. Our two oldest children were born there, and I really began my adult life there. During those eight years we visited eastern Europe at least every year. I loved to visit. I loved the people. I loved the cheap art books. I loved the gypsy music. I loved the pastries and the food. I loved the long political conversation with young people and artist friends of Peter's cousin Marika's, including a recent graduate who had just taken a job as a communist party "philosopher". Most of these conversations took the form of me telling them that America wasn't the paradise it was cracked up to be, and that really, the quality of their lives was better -- in a society where the inequalities were not so marked. I admit I wasn't too keen on the cramped apartments, shoddy blue jeans, intermittent hot water, and registering with the police every time we visited, but hey -- nothing's perfect!
I remember vividly a conversation with Marika. She told me that she could always identify an American. I thought it was because of the crimpelene leisure suits, but no ... it was because "Americans all walk like they are free". At the time I thought that Mari was referring to the fact that I didn't sit in a ladylike way and sprawled over all the chairs.
When Peter's father died we returned to Northern Minnesota to take over the business. We had two more children, and there was no time for European vacations. In the years that followed I found out that Peter is Jewish, and that his parents were Holocaust survivors. Peter's Mom opened up to me about the family history. I learned about her experience in Bergen Belsen, Ragun and Terezin. I learned about Granny's twin brother, a pharmicist in a country town, who took his own life and those of his wife and two young daughters rather than be taken by the Nazi's. I learned about Peter's father being strung up by his arms with his hands tied behind his back for a whole day because he did not have his hat at morning roll call. I learned of a family friend who had a thriving business making artifical foreskins. I also learned that being Jewish was something that no Hungarian in their right mind would admit to -- even after the war. Asking someone "What religion are you?" is as rude as asking an American "How much money do you make?"
So with Temple Beth Or I went back to Eastern Europe for the first time as a Jew. What an eye opening experience! I feel the way history weighs on the people there and see the wise cracking cynical humor and the guardedness with anyone outside of the closest family circle in a totally new light. I also shared the delight of another of Peter's cousins whose 4 year old son attends the Lauder pre-school -- a Jewish day school founded by the Estee Lauder family. He has been teaching his parents how to say the Sabbath blessings! I realize that I grew up a lot in the past 30 years, and probably have more growing up to do. What an emotional journey!
Istvan, whose 4 year old son is teaching him the Sabbath blessings.
No comments:
Post a Comment