Throughout my time in Georgia, I led a basic life with few friends. Maybe it’s because, despite being Puerto Rican, everyone born here regards me as a foreigner, which doesn’t bother me. My friends are virtually entirely Spanish-speaking. Those friends I consider close to me are women I met through my wife. There is one person whom we all regard as remarkable.
She no longer lives among us because she moved closer to her daughter, and we rarely see her. As a result, we encouraged her to come and spend one day with us. The visit was planned for the Christmas season. We were excited to meet her, but it had to be canceled several times. There was a time when I thought such a meeting would be impossible.
The long-awaited meeting was again postponed until February. So we got ready to meet our close friend, Aurora. We invited others we felt might be interested in seeing her, and one accepted.
Nature cooperated with us, and the day was sunny and warm. As I saw how the day began, I knew it would be fantastic, and I was correct.
We greeted our visitor warmly. We poured a few glasses of wine and reflected on the beautiful recollections of the past. The lady who accepted the meeting invitation reminded our friend of the day she met her, and I remembered my first meeting with our friend.
She approached me with her spouse as I was leaving church one Sunday. He was in a wheelchair when she introduced us, and he and I were fast friends.
Aurora frequently invited us to her home. I recall the first time I visited her house with my wife. As I sat down to speak with Julius, her husband, he asked if I remembered what happened in 1956. I didn’t know how to respond because I didn’t understand why he asked. I told him I didn’t know, and he began giving me his story, set in Hungary in 1956.
He was from Hungary, and 1956 was the year that the Hungarian youth revolted against the government. Let me tell you what transpired and how it led Julius to the United States in the shortest possible time.
The Hungarian Revolution of 1956 was a national revolution against the government of the Hungarian People’s Republic (1949–1989), and the policies brought about by the government’s subordination to the Soviet Union (USSR). This incident began on October 23, 1956, in Budapest, when university students called on the civilian population to join them in the Hungarian Parliament building to protest the geopolitical domination of Hungary by the USSR through the Stalinist government of Magyar Dolgozók Pártja. When the students protesting in front of the radio building demanded the release of their delegation, A.V.H. police shot dead several of them. The local Soviets assumed control of the municipal government of the Hungarian Workers’ Party. By the end of October, the intense fighting had subsided. The USSR suppressed the Hungarian revolution until November 10, killing 2,500 Hungarians and 700 Soviet army soldiers and forcing 200,000 Hungarians to seek political refuge abroad. Julius was one of 27,000 Hungarian refugees who arrived in the United States through Operation Safe Haven. O.S.H. was an American operation to transfer over 27,000 Hungarian refugees who fled their country after a failed anti-communist uprising in 1956. President Eisenhower and his administration quickly provided the refugees with humanitarian aid and legal status, and that’s how Julius got to know Aurora. They worked together in a well-known airline company. I don’t have to tell you how that friendship ended.
We didn’t play chess that day when Julius told me about that section of his life, but the next day I met him at church and accompanied him in his wheelchair to his car; the first question he asked me was.
Julius: Do you play chess?
I didn’t know what to answer because I didn’t expect a question like that, so without thinking, I said,
Me: Yes, I play chess.
Julius: Well, we must play.
One day, he came to my place, and I noticed him carrying a cloth sack. He walked in, placed the cloth sack on the table, and poured it on top. That’s when I understood it was a game of chess. It was the one time I came close to beating him, but I do not know how he beat me. He always invited me to his place to play. We played two or three games until I said I would no longer play. Aurora was always asking who had won, and one day she asked Julius to let me win, even if it was just one game, but Julius remained silent. On Father’s Day, I gave him a sticker that said, “Julius, The Chess King.” He said nothing when he saw it, but I could see his reaction. Seeing what the sticker said, I could read his expression of surprise, joy, and satisfaction.
Returning to our meeting with our guest, we talked, and between laughter and comments came lunchtime. We all enjoyed the food made by my wife and a delicious salad made by our friend Ruby. We sat in the small living room of our house, and Aurora told some jokes. Doug, Ruby’s husband, didn’t laugh at any jokes. Aurora speaks three languages and tells the same joke to Doug in English. Although our conversation was bilingual, Aurora’s jokes were in Spanish. Jokes have double meanings. They are based on culture, and when a person translates them, they do not have the same effect, so everyone laughed except Doug.
We discussed various topics and paid tribute to those who passed on. We also laughed at many anecdotes that happened to us together, mainly those experienced by the club members they had, met for lunch and played Bingo, lottery, and other games. Only Aurora, Ruby, and my wife remain from that club. When they met at my home and my wife had to cook, I took part when I got from work in the afternoon. I also enjoyed some full meetings when I retired, mainly when they were home. I always remember that the women talked between the calling of the numbers or the cards of the game. Aurora was one of the most talkative, and Julius used to say one of the few words known to him in Spanish; ” Vamos” Let’s go. We knew it was time to play along when we heard that word.
Our meeting was filled with memories, laughter, and sadness as we recalled the “Golden Girls” who were no longer with us. We also remember Julius, “The Chess King.” I only hope that we can meet again. À bientôt, Aurora.
