I Remember!-Do You?: Learning+Working+Loving­ Caring Equals Living

By Julian Gyula Andorka

PLEASED to meet YOU!

I am the Hungarian Yankee from Chicago who wrote this book. I learned the English language from the British Broadcasting Corporation while listening to short waive radio on the Russian Front in World War II. I loved it. I mean the language not the war.


This book started with Grandmother at my birth and will end 90 some years later when Saint Peter, our gatekeeper calls me. This book documents that for almost ninety years I was not just alive, but also loving the people who made it worth living.


This book is neither a fiction,-it is real life, -nor is it a documentary not being chronological. It is rather an interactive Chit-chat between the author and the reader. The main characters are often funny and occasionally dramatic, always proving that the fruit of learning and working during the day, loving and hugging during the night will be HONEY.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468555622

Julian Gyula Andorka

JULIAN GYULA ANDORKA holds a Ph.D. in Economics from Queen Elizabeth University in Hungary, and did post-graduate work in Marketing at Stanford University in California. A former Marketing Research Director at Morton Salt International, at John Inglis Co., Ltd., and at Foote, Cone & Belding. Dr. Andorka became Professor Emeritus of Marketing at DePaul University in Chicago. He currently resides in both Maryland and Florida and enjoys traveling, tennis and golf.

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Contents

PROLOGUE

THE FIRST FAMILY JULIAN

JULIAN

   PART II   AUSTRIA

THE SECOND FAMILY KARIN

THE THIRD FAMILY LUCILLE

APPENDIX—PICTURES

It is my heart’s desire to see every child, in grammar schools around the world learning English as their second language, so they can speak to each other, instead of fight.

PLEASED to meet YOU!

I am the Hungarian Yankee from Chicago who wrote this book. I learned the English language from the British Broadcasting Corporation while listening to short waive radio on the Russian Front in World War II. I loved it. I mean the language not the war.

This book started with Grandmother at my birth and will end 90 some years later when Saint Peter, our gatekeeper calls me. This book documents that for almost ninety years I was not just alive, but also loving the people who made it worth living.

This book is neither a fiction,-it is real life,—nor is it a documentary not being chronological. It is rather an interactive Chit-chat between the author and the reader. The main characters are often funny and occasionally dramatic, always proving that the fruit of learning and working during the day, loving and hugging during the night will be HONEY.

PROLOGUE

Some readers might call my writing philosophizing, meaning the study of basic concepts such as Liking—Loving—Caring today, with focus on the stark difference between being alive and living.

Then, they are readers who like to be entertained. For them the book in your hand will be a saga of bliss and adversity, of romance and outrage. It is about my three families the way they liked me, loved me and cared for me. Those who hated me wishing that I go to hell, will also have their day in court.

The first picture the reader will come across introduces the FIRST FAMILY, the sister of Julian and his parents on their 25th wedding anniversary. The women are smiling. Father is bit pensive, while Julian after surviving the war is quite a bit pensive, like someone who heard the Iron Curtain descending.

We will have three major characters. They were born before, or just after World War I. The beautiful KARIN was born in Romania to a father from Berlin and a mother from Vienna. Her eyes were Nordic blue. The color of her hair was golden blond and her skin looked like marble Michelangelo used.

The other girl was all American. I used to introduce her being my sweetheart who came over from England on the Mayflower. She was a beauty, neither to short nor too tall, the size of Elizabeth Taylor. I liked that. I could put my arms around her and hold her tight. She was a perfect fit, tailor made for me. Her name was Lucille, but her three brothers and two sisters called her CUTIE. I called her Sweetheart, with a tremendous intellectual curiosity that kept us moving around the world. The third character between these two beautiful women was the Hungarian Boy. For better or worse, let us name him JULIAN. He followed Karin with her two very young daughters across the Atlantic to Canada and will follow Cutie to Heaven, as soon as he finished writing this book.

HUNGARY                                              AUSTRIA

PART I                                                         PART II

THE FIRST FAMILY

JULIAN

Time to Learn and Experience

Liking and because of it, preferring certain things, or the company of certain people, is the result of experiences. When someone has everything served to him or her on silver platters the chances of accumulating experience will elude him

Julian, the child was never served anything on silver platter, though an aunt, on the day of his baptism, gave him a silver spoon. His mother saved it as a memento reminding her of the day when her baby became the center of festivities.

Forty two years later, when she came to the United States to visit Julian, she reminded him that once upon the time he was baptized and gave him the spoon.

At the end of her stay with them, when she was ready to board the Lufthansa Flight from Chicago to Frankfurt, Karin kissing her and whishing her Bon Voyage, she said: I am going home with peace in my heart knowing that my son is well taken care of. Thank you Karin.

She still cared for Julian and his sister. She did not need money to show affection. She needed someone, or something to take care of, to feel useful at her age. To her the someone were her children and the something was her rose garden.

Julian was not aware of her contributions to the congregation she belonged. He knew only that she was supportive, that the parcels he sent to his sister were converted to currency to support the needy. His sister asked him to send phonograph records of classical music played by the best U.S. Symphony orchestras; she sold to music loving doctors using a fair exchange rate, circumventing government usury.

Julian felt good every time he mailed a parcel to the family knowing that indirectly he also supported their church. Though he was not a very religious person, he had a very strong belief in the superior being, who was Our Father and his Guardian leading him through our shadowy world.

Hungary, before the Russian trained Bolsheviks took over, supported four religions according to the number of heads attending services, Roman Catholics, Jews, Lutherans and Presbyterians. The State paid them to teach Religion in elementary and middle schools. They were very few Muslims since the Ottoman Turks army retreated 600 years ago.

Julian’s preacher, Reverend Luther, used parables to acquaint the class with the good book. Parables were like short stories with a punch line. But when the teacher injected too much theatrics in the delivery, the punch line got lost.

Julian loved short stories. He loved the parables, but disliked the amateurish theatrics. He had an impulsive character letting his words fly, while his preacher was acting a character from one of his parables. Sir, he turned to Reverend Luther, You are such a big clown, The whole class was laughing his father warned him to watch his words.

During the second incident Julian was in church sitting next to his mother on the ladies side. In those days men and women were segregated in Lutheran churches but he was only 8 years old.

Reverend Luther must have felt relief when he permitted that, hoping that mother would have better control over her son. Well, this time Julian embarrassed his mother.

He noticed how the worshippers stood up to sing a hymn to start the Sunday service. Everybody, but he were singing. Everybody, but he had a book. He wanted to be part of the congregation. So, when everybody sat down, he got up and started to sing a song he learned from the kids in school: Mr. Stuck! You bad boy! What are you doing, when the night is still so long? Mother grabbed Julian’s arm and rushed out of church with her budding tenor.

Many years later, when Julian was already a grown man, retired, singing his theme song: When you’re smiling, when you’re smiling, the whole world smiles with you . . . Cutie, Julian’s partner for life used to say how happy she was that he had an education, because with singing he would not had made a living. During his formative years Julian’s teacher and mother implanted traits in him that stayed in him when the boy became a man. Of course when you listen to, and trust your instinct, whether you are a man or a woman, eventually you will find a partner whose looks kindle you amorous glands and who is genuinely concerned about the physical, mental and spiritual well beings of both of you. The little beach ball did not teach him and his mother did not explain how Julian would know that he was facing the one and only for him. He had to find that out for himself much later in life. He took the lady’s hand and went for a walk hand in hand. At the end he kissed her hand and gave her a big, but gentle embrace. Both of them enjoyed the contact, the next day they did it again, stopping at the altar eventually.

Julian’s years at home with his family were very happy years producing lasting impressions. Love and respect of women was the first one. He remembers entering an elevator with his father, with a cap on his head and his father whispering in his ears, Take your cap off, there are ladies here.

The second impression starting in school shaped his attitude towards Religion guiding and protecting his spiritual wellbeing through tragedies and ordeals, through bliss and joy. It did not start by the clowning of the reverend teacher, nor by the singing of the interactive congregations. It started with reading the New Testament.

Much later, the snatching of Julian’s wife and driving her into her grave by her son, Julian’s stepson, to grab inheritance prematurely, incited Julian with hatred. He began to search for the key to his gun cabinet where he kept his handgun. When he found it, it was time for the evening prayer. Our Father who are in heaven . . . and when he came to the words, . . . forgive us our trespassing as we forgive those who trespass against us, he stopped and put the key to the gun cabinet back in the drawer. He believed that God, Allah and Jehovah sent their emissaries to us for teaching all men and women to love each other.

When asked to define religion Julian used words that should be known to everybody in our country, or to every other nation when translated to their language.

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God indivisible, dedicated to liberty and justice for all. That has been Julian’s credo.

In 1848 the Hungarian revolted against the rule of Hapsburgs coming from Vienna. They wanted to speak Hungarian, not Latin, in their own Parliament. The leader of the revolution was Louis Kossuth for whom Julian’s town was the first to build a statue. The last statue builder was the mayor of New York, Jimmy Walker. Julian’s father was part of the delegation sent to attend the unveiling, carrying thanks to Jimmy Walker and the USA.

When he returned to Hungary he brought Julian pennants displaying Mohawk Indian motives, with profiles of Chiefs wearing feather headdresses. Julian was an avid reader of cowboy and Indian stories. He cherished the pennants and every story that came from America. He let his affinity for stories grow and lo and behold, just now his daughter handed him two stories that came in on the Internet from a friend. The stories are very American and reflect the love lurking between fathers and sons, from baseball fields to golf courses, from church to work. The stories may help you understand why the pledge of allegiance became part of Julian’s credo.

Story number one plays in Chicago. The euphoria that drove the country in the 1920’s was beginning to descend into repression that turned into depression. People were prohibited to ease their pain with a shot of whisky from Canada, or two shots of rum from Jamaica.

By providing what was prohibited Al Capone virtually owned Chicago. That is how the first story began. Julian enquired and searched to find the person who wrote them to no avail. Not to be able to give him, or her credit, all he could give the writer is a Big Thank You.

"Capone wasn’t famous for anything heroic. He was notorious enmeshing the windy city with everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution, to murder of the competition.

Capone had a lawyer nicknamed Easy Eddie. He was Capone’s lawyer for a good reason. Eddy was very good! In fact, Eddie’s skill at legal maneuvering kept Big AI out of jail for a long time.

To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well. Not only was the money big, but Eddie got special dividends, as well. For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced in mansion with live-in help and all the conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block.

Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him.

Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddie saw to it that his young son had clothes, cars and good education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object. Despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong. Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was.

Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he could not give his son; he could not pass on a good name, or a good example. One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to rectify the wrongs he had done.

He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about AI Scarface Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance of integrity. To do this, he would have to testify against the Mob, and he knew that the cost would be great when he testified.

Within the year, Easy Eddie’s life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street. But in his eyes, he has given his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he could ever pay. Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion and a poem clipped from a magazine.

The poem read:

"The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power to tell when the hands will stop.

Now is the only time you own. Place no faith in the clock for it may soon be still. Live, love and toil with a will, for the clock may soon be still.

The second story from Anonymous is just as powerful as the first one, but it will touch the hearts of more readers than the first one, as only a few readers lived through Prohibition and are still alive, while many of us remember World War II and the heroes the war produced. One of them was Lieutenant Commander Butch O’Hare. He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.

One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship.

His flight leader told him to return to the carrier. Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet. As he was returning to the mother ship, he saw something that turned his blood cold; a squadron of Japanese aircrafts was speeding toward the American fleet.

The American fighters were gone on a sortie and the fleet was all but defenseless. He could not reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet. Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger. There was only one thing to do. He must somehow divert them from the fleet.

Laying aside thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes. His wing-mounted 50 caliber’s blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another. Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was spent.

Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing, or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible, rendering them unfit to fly.

Finally the exasperated Japanese planes left and Butch’s tattered fighter limped back to the Carrier.

Upon arrival he reported in and related the event surrounding his return. The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed the extent of Butch’s daring attempt to protect his fleet. He had in fact destroyed five enemy aircrafts.

This took place on February 20, 1942 Butch became the Navy’s first Ace of World War II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the Medal of Honor. A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of twenty-nine.

His home town would not allow the memory of this W.W.II. hero to fade, and today O’Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great young man. Next time you find yourself at O’Hare International, give some thought to visiting Butch Memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of Honor.—It is located between Terminals 1 and 2.

Butch O’Hare was Easy Eddie’s son, who was gunned down by the Mob.

Butch and Julian were about the same age. They were the core of World War II generations, but the theaters where they saw action were a world apart, one in the East, the other in the West.

Easy Eddie did not encourage his son to become a Navy fighter pilot. It was his son’s decision and he supported it.

Julian’s father had the same unselfish love for his son just like Eddie and he lost him to World War II, just like Eddie did. Lieutenant Commander Butch O’Hare was taken by the Grim Reaper after a dogfight in the air. Julian was driven away from his home by Bolshevik agents who wanted him to become a mindless slave of their ruthless ideology.

Julian’s father never told him what he expected his son to become when he grew up, but