On Christmas eve, yesterday,I turned 34.
No,I didn’t celebrate myself.
Nor did I praise my parents,with all my due love to them (if love can be due).
During my little December venture into Naples, Italy I remembered outstanding people from the past and not accidental encouters:
teachers caught-up in personal stories or at heart engaged in religious wars and taking me at my family
world-class professor who saw that I am not good enough and then having a heart) to let me study up to have a chance to reach that level;
A few literally shocked to learn that I stem from a specific religious group which is not recognizable by my appearance;
the unknown professor who sent a student to do research on my cultural origins..and years later the same student who came to see me and almost forced to give an oath that our families will meet one day in Budapest;
one who introduced to me the concept of the basic melody among nations and made me ponder how people are differentiated and picked up (and i happened to be an exception to this rule?);
those who read my publications and probed me during lectures on a sensitive subject and those who fetched me when i almost flew into darkness;
and those interesting people who knew me before I got to know them and who started shaping out my life…
And I celebrate my notorious ancestors, whose gene — the basic melody — I am carrying on.