One More Perspective

My Father was the only living offspring for my Paternal Grandparents; I wrote about his Sister under the Paternal Grandparents section.

In a previous post, I began talking about my Mother’s Brother, of whom, unfortunately, I mostly have cursory knowledge. During my childhood, I saw my Uncle and his Family maybe a handful of times. I had a very heartwarming visit with him in 1997 however, and that’s what informs my recollection of his personality more than anything else. My Uncle was the product of having to make the most of being the child of a Communist Party political prisoner who was considered a traitor by the Hungarian People’s Republic after the 1956 Hungarian anti-communist revolution, for his part in that uprising. My Uncle had to narrowly navigate the world into which he was born, against the loyalty of his Father, his family, and all the ways they suffered under Hungarian Communism. What an impossible position!

I think my Uncle grew to be the kind of brilliant person who deeply understood his untenable position: he was the Son of a convicted traitor, stuck in the country certain to ensure he is encumbered from the start. My Uncle had to forge his own way as he entered his teens and twenties, despite the constraints of his Family history, Hungary’s government and the social pressure to conform, if for no other reason, to avoid further conflict, and its harsh, personalized consequences.

I am not sure what came first, his pálonka production, his popularity, or his school administrator career, but he seamlessly navigated the boundaries while simultaneously living above and below the table, in plain sight. He amassed a sizeable fruit-tree growing and processing enterprise, owning quite a bit of land and living very comfortably while working as the Principal of a Technical High School (Trade School). By fruit growing and processing, I mean he was a self-contained producer of Pálinka from plums and apricots, a Hungarian spirit he leveraged beautifully with just the right people to buy his own reasonable autonomy, and identity away from his Father’s. Was his heart ever with the Communist Officials who benefited from his hobby Pálinka? Probably not; nonetheless, the optics were problematic for the rest of the Family. My Father likewise did not care for his Brother-in-law; he considered my Uncle a turncoat. How could a man whose Father had been so brutally punished by the Communist Party, like my Father’s, now be supplying free booze to them? I suspect my Uncle was simply using his vast people-skills to guarantee a level of safety from Communist Officials for his own Family. I also suspect, my Father was envious of my Uncle’s ability to navigate the various pro- and anti-communist entities in a satisfactory manner so as to forge workable relationships on both sides, and allow my Uncle to build a more secure financial base. His Wife was also an instrumental part of this equation, and their marriage was so different from that of my Parents. My Uncle and Aunt were, at least outwardly, an equally vested Team. They understood what they meant to one-another.

My Uncle may not have publicly stood for anything, but he certainly didn’t fall for everything. He was as deliberate about his approach to his hard-earned land with some fruit trees and bottle storage as the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation who understands her stakeholders’ individual interests, government policy, how that policy is executed and enforced in operation, and all other liabilities. My Uncle didn’t technically have a Pálinka business, nor did he technically sell anything, but he was able to barter for anything from anyone. That was far more powerful in Communism than my Father’s vast education, and while this made my Father admire and long for Capitalism (where his skills would be better recognized and more lucrative), it most immediately made my Father despise his Brother-in-law.

My Uncle’s children and I grew up as practically strangers, and as adults, we only really had a meeting or two, and that was in the late 1990s. One of my Cousins formally followed in my Uncle’s agricultural footsteps, but in large-scale, degree-backed, corporate pursuits. He was part of those who transitioned Hungary’s state-owned, distributed food supply activities and largely centralized it with corporations, as per the Western model, which rapidly took hold in Hungary in the 1990s. I watched my favorite childhood brands and products disappear, and preservatives and heavy food packaging with clever advertisements take over.

I am grateful for the memory I have of my Uncle I gained while visiting with him my one and only time as an adult. He was welcoming, interested in my life, and very careful to avoid any criticism of anyone in my life. I soaked up that limited time with him, as his energy was so different from that of my Mother’s other Sibling, my Aunt. I couldn’t help but realize while my Uncle had developed an open-minded, good-willed approach to forging relationships with others, he was woefully hard on his own body. A decades-long smoker, he also took a shot of Pálinka with his breakfast. At age 23, that was a difficult thing for me to witness. I was able to withhold judgment in that moment and see him as the multifaceted, multilayered human he was. I felt richer for being able to experience him and receive him holistically….but it took me another decade or two to truly understand that’s what I needed to do with all people.

My Uncle and his Wife made one journey from Hungary to the United States, but i was not part of that visit. The quantity of Pálinka they brought with them on the airplane, according to their host, my Mother, makes me believe this US visit occurred prior to 2001.

My Uncle worked and lived hard, and he kept it up until his lungs halted him, which, in his final few months, occurred rapidly. He was in his early sixties then. My Mother grieved him, but I saw little endearing about her suffering over her Brother’s death, after all, she clearly had chosen her Sister as her closest Sibling, even after she was in the United States.

My Mother’s Sister was born into a complex and largely unfavorable socio-economic reality in 1952 Hungary, her situation soon exasperated by her Father’s political imprisonment for his part in Hungary’s 1956 anti-communist revolution. My Aunt was born to thrive however, and lucky for her, there was always a side-kick with her, willing to be content with a position in her shadows: her twin Sister, my Mother. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship of the most calculated kind. My Aunt was willing to get in trouble but didn’t like being alone. My Mother was not truly brave enough to initiate adventures or mischief on her own, but the attention of her Sister and the excitement my Mother otherwise wouldn’t have experienced made co-shouldering punishments a favorable equation for her. My Aunt was subjected to the same community whispers about her imprisoned Father as her Siblings, but her response was yet different from her Siblings; she somehow saw opportunities instead.

My Aunt was not the studious twin, and she didn’t mind that; by the time they were in high-school, my Aunt was significantly more interested in partying, boys, and having a grand time. She married young, and her career-trajectory remained flat throughout her adulthood. This wasn’t because she didn’t have escalating desires; instead, it was because my Aunt perfected the “let me see what I can get from you” way of relating to others, which allowed her to maximize standard of living. She had a knack for knowing when to switch back-and-forth between empty compliments and loaded comments, alluding to some deficiency in a way that made the other person want to take action. My Aunt then knew just how to benefit from that action, for which she was the catalyst. A simplistic example from her youth may be: my Aunt wanted to go to the swimming pool but didn’t have a nice bathing suit, nor the entry fee. She would think of who may have enough money for what she wanted and be inclined to take action in the direction of my Aunt’s desire. She would seek them out and compliment them on their pool-ready appearance, hyping up the fun of a day by the pool with friends. Then, she’d slowly introduce the deficiency, which was neither of them having the latest bathing suits. In the end, my Aunt would have a great pool day and a new bathing suit at the expense of to whom she was supposed to be a Friend.

I understand this is a talent, and when channeled correctly with earnest education and healthy intent, can culminate in a very successful career, but my Aunt used her powers to reduce her own efforts, and that included being willing to manipulate her Siblings as well. She had no issues with expecting my Mother to continually subsidize her ideas, but my Uncle was a harder sell. My Aunt had long-fuelled a rift between my Mother and their Brother, quite possibly, because she couldn’t have her Brother gain influence over my Mother. My Uncle undoubtedly felt outnumbered and unsupported among the women of his home, especially with his Father in prison and enduring the various ways in they each were coping with their scarce resources and marginalized position. My Uncle was the oldest child, a full-blown teen toward the end of my Grandfather’s imprisonment; he endured their day-to-day survival with greater perspective, but likely even more lonely. Even if my Grandmother had been a predominantly warm, generous, and compassionate person, the events that led to her holding down their household alone would have worn on her heavily. As such, they all carried on the best they could, without healthy decompression and coping skills. Realistically, in the Hungary I knew, there was only ever praise for carrying on after any negative event. So long as you kept up your responsibilities, you were considered resilient and doing what you should be; there was never talk of what was under that shell; how were you, really?

My Aunt represented a significant stressor between my Mother and my Father, and soon, and as far back as I can remember, my Mother was seeing her Family by herself or only with me. This meant my Father was either out of touch with or without wherewithal about what was happening while I was visiting my Aunt and her Family, for example. My Aunt had a husband, and their wo children were around my age. My Aunt’s Husband’s hobby, photography among other interests, spilled over to impact me once he got pitched to my Mother I, along with my girl Cousin, should be the nude subjects of his photoshoot. We were maybe six, but possibly five. I remember being very aware we were naked, and I thought the geometric positions he wanted us to portray were odd and uncomfortable. I recall once seeing one of the photographs, and I was under the impression these photos of our nude, six-year old bodies were displayed at a convention.

Convention or not, the experience and the photoshoot existed and the photographs remained in his possession well into my adulthood. It was my Cousin, also in the photos, who got a hold of the photos and even found one of just me, naked, face down on the ground, opening my legs toward a train my Aunt’s Husband carefully timed to be in the background. I recalled that day. My Mother was there. She was fully aware of these activities and artifacts, but never addressed them with me, not at any age, not even when during my adulthood, and a Mother myself, my Cousin let us know she had located the photographs. It’s these unaddressed issues that year after year continued to poison my relationship with my Mother and her Family.

Over the last thirty five years, my Aunt from Hungary has visited my Mother in the United States for months at a time, at my Mother’s expense, no less than twenty times. This used to really bother me, because I knew my Mother could ill afford it. Worse, there would always be a brand new wardrobe for my Aunt to take from my Mother, a self-licking ice-cream cone my Aunt created, by at the end of each visit, by always taking my Mother’s best clothes. My Mother always spent way more money than she could afford when my Aunt was visiting, taking her here and there, entertaining her in a manner she would never do for anyone else. It looked every bit like my Mother was buying her Sister’s attention. I would naively criticize my Aunt for her gull to always take advantage of my Mother, only to become the Bad Guy, my professional role with my Mother, as she defended her Sister. I got wiser in the recent years, even though my Mother was now sending tens of thousands of dollars to subsidize her Sister’s retirement while she, my Mother, the one without socialized medicine, was saving laughable amounts compared to what she could have. Having no financial boundaries is one of the reasons I took a giant step back from my Mother, but I am getting way ahead of myself and oversimplifying a complex issue.

My Aunt also had a significant alcohol habit, one that, unlike my Uncle, she could hardly to finance. This made her vulnerable to poor choices, and further drew my Mother in as her subsidy. I have made it a point not to see her; I don’t believe I’ve seen her in twenty years; maybe longer. Between she and my Maternal Grandmother, they reinforced the kinds of negative feelings I had experienced from them as a child. As an adult, I finally had a choice to not be around them, and I ensured it remained so. I made a grand stand or two in the 2010s to my Mother about how she was absolutely short-changing her own financial future by sending so much of what should be her retirement savings to Hungary, but all I did was continue my long-cast role of the Bad Guy. Even when I explained to my Mother her Sister had a full work-history and retirement with socialized health-care in Hungary and three children of her own. My Mother on the other hand, had only begun her work history in the US in her mid-thirties and her social security without retirement savings would render her in a financial situation much worse than her Sister’s, but nothing stuck. I got desperate enough to say she should not be looking to me to subsidize her; I was too busy saving for my retirement, so I am not a financial burden on my children! She saw no value in my words, only arrogance and sass.

My Aunt is alive, and I wish her well from my safe distance. I wish she had been afforded a different environment, people with healthy boundaries who loved her, but left without tools to process and heal from her childhood circumstances, she only proliferated the damage for our Family.