each other with such natural ease. Wow, I thought; what is that like?
And there I was once more, this time with my loving husband, Jud, and our beautiful family. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the turns my life would take, and that it would bring me so far from these humble, and often very sad, beginnings.
Being born in 1947, I arrived in the middle of a very tragic and difficult century for Hungary, and my childhood and early teen years seem now a mirror for the struggles of our people during that era. My life then, as with my former country, was trapped amid opposing forces and torn between conflicting ideologies against a backdrop of debilitating loss.
World War I had been devastating to Hungary, which had entered the conflict as part of the sturdy Austro-Hungarian Empire. Its wealth gone, economy ruined, and regional power shattered, Hungary lost more than half of its population and 70 percent of its territory. The Great Depression consequently hit the country very hard, and reliance on trade with Germany (and Italy) to stay afloat during those hardscrabble years precipitated an alliance with the Axis powers during World War II.
Hungary did its best to protect Jewish citizens from deportation during the early years of the war, but in 1944 Germany (after learning that Hungary was secretly negotiating a separate peace with the United States and Britain) occupied the country and began sending Jews to concentration camps in massive numbers. By the end of the war, in addition to the deaths of nearly one million Hungarian soldiers and citizens, more than half a million Hungarian Jews had lost their lives in the Holocaust. According to the Holocaust Memorial Center, approximately one-third of all Jews killed at Auschwitz were Hungarian. Many of my relatives lost their lives in this death camp, my father being the only one of his immediate family to survive its horrors.
Then the Soviets occupied Hungary and established a communist dictatorship. I came into the world at a time (only two years after the end of the war) of immense sadness, widespread poverty, political repression, and cultural confusion. There seemed to be tension everywhere: between Hungarians and Soviets, between “old” Europe and “new” America, between Jews and Roman Catholics. In terms of religion, the enforced communist doctrine of nonbelief attempted to supplant our Christian faith or Jewish orthodoxy. Our loyalties and traditions, indeed our very beliefs, were pushed and pulled in every direction.
These struggles were personified for me, as a young girl, in the tension between my father and mother. Their turbulent relationship and subsequent divorce, so indicative of the instability of the times, precipitated my being sent to the orphanage, where I spent most of the following ten years. For me, the reunion of my parents was the outcome I prayed for the most, as if the anxiety and confusion I sensed everywhere in the culture would be resolved through that one act of love and understanding.
The orphanage seemed like such an enormous and formidable place to me when I was a child. In 1991, when I took my family there, it seemed calm and safe, even quaint. Seen in light of the history of conflicts Hungary had endured, the orphanage seemed to me a symbol of quiet strength, formidable resolve, and protective energy. It was from another time, but the fact that it was still there, still functioning, still providing food, shelter, and education to children without home and family, gave me an immense sense of pride and well-being.
Ironically, the Soviet occupation had recently ended; in fact, the last of the Russian troops had finally left the country only weeks before we arrived in June 1991. Hungary, after decades bouncing between monarchies and fascist or communist dictatorships, was finally emerging as a democratic nation run by a parliament. Freedom, so scarce and fragile during my childhood, had returned to Hungary, and it moved me to my core.
As it was July when we visited Budapest, the orphanage was closed and all the kids were in foster homes for the summer break. We just walked into the courtyard, and I guided the children while Jud got his camera ready. My heart was beating fast as I sat on the stone base of the iron fence, holding Lauren in my lap and hugging Nathan standing next to me. For a moment it truly felt like a dream. I looked at my husband while he took our picture, and he was crying right along with me. These were happy tears we were sharing; tears of vindication and deep gratitude.
Alive Book Publishing
Love’s Orphan
Chapter
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my father
whose strong will, perseverance and love of America
set the path for me to follow in his footsteps.
For all these qualities, I am forever grateful.
Thank you
Ildiko
Love’s Orphan
Chapter
Love’s Orphan
Chapter
Love’s Orphan
Chapter
Love’s Orphan
Chapter
Love’s Orphan
Chapter
Love’s Orphan
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
My Father
Tibor Kalman, my father, was born on June 4, 1913, in Esperjes, Hungary, to a very prominent Orthodox Jewish family. They moved to Miskolc for better business opportunities when Dad was four years old, and their hard work paid off. By the time he started school they owned the first and only vinegar factory in Miskolc, along with a chain of photo shops, the first of their kind in Hungary.
Miskolc was an industrial city at the time of my father’s birth. Though it wasn’t a battleground during World War I, many of its young men were killed fighting in the war, and a large number of civilians also died during that time from a debilitating cholera epidemic. The city suffered serious damage during the final months of World War II, and the postwar years were difficult, but Miskolc maintained its status as the industrial center of northeastern Hungary. These days, Miskolc has established itself as a cultural center as well, sporting many annual art and music events, including the International Opera Festival of Miskolc, which is also known as the Bartók + Opera Festival in honor of Hungary’s renowned twentieth-century composer Béla Bartók.
Dad was the youngest of three children. The oldest was my uncle, Odon, who became a successful doctor of internal medicine and also played the violin. Aunt Irene, the middle child, married a doctor and stayed home to raise her two children even though she had a university education. She was a wonderful pianist as well. Dad was the baby of the family, and the most gifted of the three when it came to music. He started playing cello at age five and excelled from the beginning. It was clear to everyone that my father’s future was in music, and they made sure that he received the best musical education possible. Initially, Dad took private lessons; later he studied cello in Budapest and graduated from the Royal Franz Liszt Music Academy and the Vienna Music Conservatory.
My grandfather, Izso Kalman, was also a gifted violin player, and he was my father’s biggest fan. They were very close. Grandfather Izso taught my father how to sing and harmonize, which the whole family did on many an occasion from the time Dad was very young. My grandmother, Elaine, was a very smart businesswoman, and she basically ran the family business.
My father had an ideal childhood in the city of Miskolc. His family gave him much love and support, and his musical career took off. He performed with the Budapest Philharmonic Orchestra, under such famous conductors as Bruno Walters and Otto Klemperer; and his string quartet performed in Vienna, Austria, and Venice, Italy, as well as numerous venues in Budapest. Life was good. He was a very handsome young man and enjoyed dating young women, who were only too eager to be by his side. But Dad was really married to his cello, and was relentless in pursuing his dream