Sometimes truth is strange than fiction.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Defining Bloodline

It was always a big deal whenever my dad called. I always knew he was on the phone when my mom was on our old rotary phone and the German Shepard next door would start howling in tune to her screaming.

That's the thing about my family - they would be great stage performers because they sure do know how to make their voices project. In my family, there is only one rule to arguing in Hungarian: The person that speaks the loudest always wins the argument, regardless of being right or wrong.

So, this particular day, I was home from kindergarten and my mom saw me peaking around the corner. She sighed and held out the phone.

"Stephie, talk to your asshole fadder."

I could hear his mumbled voice protesting from the receiver.

I grabbed the phone and struggled to hold it to my ear with both hands. Boy, those old rotary phones sure where solid.

"Hallo?" I asked shyly.

“Szia, Stephie.”

It was still weird to hear such a deep voice, since I had no male influences in my family. I imagined a giant Bela Lugosi on the other line.

He quickly broke into his usual rant,"Don't listen to your crazy bitch modder. You know, your name wasn't even supposed to be stupid freakin' Stephanie."

"Really, Apu?"

He continued, "Me, I vas gonna name you Margitka, proud Magyar name. But she names you some crap outta some American baby-name book and sends you to school tinking you are Romanian. Listen, Stephike - you are not to tell ANYVON dat you are a dirty Romanian, you hear me? You are von-hundred percent Hungarian blood."

I was speechless.

"And any German you have in you from your Nagymama’s parents you shit out in your diapers."

I twirled the phone cord around my little foot. "But Apu...I thought I was from New Jersey."

See, that's the great thing about little kids. They see no distinction between races. Maybe it should stay that way.

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5 Comments:

Blogger matilda said...

hey stephanie,
i love the little film you made. I hope there will be a sequel some time.

i'm going to share a story about my great-grandmother: Babuschka stayed on the sofa in our kitchen during the winters when i was little. When she was 87 i was 4. Every morning i would crawl onto the sofa to wake her up. I did so by pulling the wrinkled skin under her chin. She always woke up immediately and wasnt mad at all. Or maybe she was. She talked in to me russian a lot, which i didnt understand(her german made me giggle endlessly). And apparently i havent picked up much. She liked to tell russian childrens rhymes about bunnies getting shot(well thats what my mother told me..)and knew how to play some clever games with my stuffed animals, so she was good company. A year later, when dementia had kicked in, she believed there was a bomb in my cassette recorder, so she carefully placed it in the kitchen sink. I wasnt angry about that, but my mom was. I lay in my bed, listening to their fighting, slightly worried. At some point i just had to get up. i went to the kitchen to ask what they were fighting about, only to find them drinking tea and according to my mother just having an interesting conversation. i was allowed to have a sip of babuschkas black tea and went back to bed. i still haven't learned any russian unfortunately.

July 24, 2007 6:09 AM

 
Blogger American Goulash said...

Awww, that's so sweet! Was her name really Babuschka? I LOVE THAT NAME! I wish I met my great-granny, but she was long gone before I was born :( Thank you for taking the time to post!

Hee hee, I've only ever pulled the chin hairs on Nagymamas chin, not the wrinkles, oh, boy! I remember Nagymama teaching me a little German, but I only remember how to count to ten now.

Boy, I have to tell yah, that dementia is really something. the doctors think that is what Nagymama has too because of her excessive paranoia, (but my mother swears that she has been this way since day one.) Alzheimer's & dementia are scary thoughts - I have a friend whose grandfather doesn't remember his wife is, so she had to move out. I can't IMAGINE being married to someone for 50-years and have him forget who I am! The whole thing is just so damned scary! That’s sort of why I take a lot of photos and why I am writing all of this stuff down…I always, always, always want to remember.

Keep ‘em coming! Hee hee, do you have any pictures of Babuschka???

July 25, 2007 12:49 AM

 
Blogger matilda said...

Her real name was yevgenia nikalaievna(no idea if thats how you spell it in english but its approx. what it sounds like)
Babuschka means granny in russian, but at some point she was called that by everyone, even her own children.
I have some pictures of her, if i manage to scan them somehow i'll put them on my blog.
Also woah, she actually had to move out? That's harsh.
I'm thankful that it never got to that with Babuschka. She just started living in the past a lot, talking about my great-grandfather who she had not seen for the last 40 years.

July 25, 2007 10:46 AM

 
Blogger American Goulash said...

Thank you for enlightening me - I've always thought the word Babuschka meant a scarf that you tie under your chin (to hide your curlers!), but i think that word is spelled Babushka, come to think of it!

Yes, she did have to move out! The story of my friend Liz's grandparents went like this:

Grandpa was a Don in a large Italian mob in his younger days. Grandpa was adored by everyone in the mob, but slowly started to get Alzheimer’s. Eventually, he had to leave the worldof organized crime, and was kicked out of the Alzheimer's clinic for assaulting two orderlies. Obviously, grandpa had some hand-to-hand combat training in his mob days, and his body still remembered it, although his mind did not. Apparently, even at 86, grandpa could kick some SERIOUS ass. Eventually, he just had to move back into his home, but his wife had to leave one night when he thought she was a robber.

It makes me shudder every single time I think about it. I REALLY hope they find a cure for this soon.

July 25, 2007 12:40 PM

 
Blogger matilda said...

to be honest as horrible as this must be when it happens to you or someone you know, this story is kind of awesome too. thanks for sharing.

July 26, 2007 7:09 PM

 

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