Happy Century

It's been a century, one hundred years today, on August 21 of 1913, since Jozsa Irén was born in the small Hungarian town with a long name, Kiskunfélegyháza.

A year later, the First World War broke out and an uncle Stephen was among the first to fall in action near Belgrade.

She left her home in Szentes to attend university in Szeged, taught school, married, and became a high school principal. She survived the Soviet siege of Budapest in the Second World War, then with three children she fled Hungary to join her husband, then emigrated to Australia where she raised five children.

At age 53, she moved to the United States, to Seattle, where she was prepared to send her son Géza to Canada to avoid having him drafted for Vietnam. She had seen enough war. She had sacrificed much for her five children, and when they became adults, she had left little for herself.

August 21 is a busy day. Irén's 28th birthday was also her wedding day. Born and wed on the same day of the year.

Irén's granddaughter, Emese, was also born on August 21. I think both Irén and young Emese were a little jealous of that birthday date.

[Oddly enough, August 21 is also the birthday of a mother-in-law and her wedding day, and it's also the birthday of a dear guru-brother.]

My mother was 93 when she passed away in 2007. She had a long life full of accomplishments, hard work, simple pleasures, hardships, and more than her share of disappointments. There are many who owe her a great deal, the kind of debt that can only be repaid with gratitude, love and kindness.

Happy birthday, Anyu.