My Father the Convict

It was now almost summer, 1942. Nazi Germany had barbarously occupied most of Europe. Hungary was not yet completely ruled by Hitler's Nazi lawlessness, although we Jews lived in constant persecution and hardship. Our sources of income were limited by special laws, and a Hungarian Christian feather dealer unjustly reported my father to the authorities. The anti-Semitic verdict, two months in prison.

It was a very sad and shaming period for our family. At fourteen, I became the main breadwinner. Instead of feeling pride I felt humiliated buying and selling goose feathers and down, and dried animal skins. We exchanged letters with my father. My older brother sometimes helped out by carrying heavy loads, but I took care of all of the business side of things.

During those two sad months, which included the High Holidays, my older brother Sanyi secretly left home. One of the local boys had a bad influence on him. This boy promised him a "rosy" life in the big city of Budapest, where my brother could find a well-paying job. In Puspokladany, Sanyi worked as an apprentice for a master who took advantage of him and worked him hard, twelve hours every day. The man paid him nothing - only a lunch and snack. It was like that when one learned an occupation.

But, it seems Budapest was not for everybody a "rosy" promising place after all. At the end of the fifth day my brother Sanyi was back. When he came home he felt so humiliated that he dared not enter the house for a very long time and sat by the outhouse. After a while we told him he was forgiven and that he should come home. He told us about his adventures, and returned to his previous employer, working for nothing.

At last, the two months passed, and my father came home. He lost some weight, but we were so happy just to see him home with us. He elevated our spirits - his face radiated joy into our heart and soul. Just being near him was a privilege.

© David Muskal, 2001