Episode 105
Hey Everyone! It’s Liz with The Hungarian Living podcast.
I am sure I underestimated how much effort and energy the Hungarian Heritage Expo takes and to host three in a matter of 13 months is a little bit crazy so I do apologize that things have been a bit inconsistent in the podcast department.
It’s already August, which is crazy to me. But here we are. And for this episode we are going to talk about my mom, Elizabeth Szabo, a little because it is her birthday month.
If you knew my mom, you know she was amazing. But, let me tell you, as every year goes by I realize she is even more amazinger than I ever thought. She was passionate about her Hungarian heritage and expressed it in so many ways! Of course, we had Hungarian food at home and we regularly heard the language but we were also familiar with Hungarian folk art and traditions.
And, as her children started getting married, we each happened to pick non-Hungarian spouses. And so she knew that someday, if she had grandchildren, they would be 50% Hungarian. And then when those grandchildren started having children, the percentages would likely even be less than that. And, there were other people having this same challenge. How do you preserve some elements of Hungarian heritage and culture in your family as other delightful and valuable ethnicities start joining the family? After all you can and should be excited about all of it – but how do you help the Hungarian piece of things to be memorable in the family?
Even when my brothers and I were quite young my mom was translating Hungarian folk tales into English. I have all of her files which means I have several boxes full of pieces she wrote and submitted for publication. She had at least one thing published in Highlights for Children and she had other things published in other, smaller publications. Most things seemed to focus on the child aged 6-10 years old. There were short stories as well as some short biographies of famous people that mainly seemed designed for 3rd-5th graders.
But, her heart was about this Hungarian folk tale project. Her goal was to publish a book of them. And, now that her great grandchildren are at a great age to listen to short stories, we are going to add these to our Hungarian Living Podcast as a way to honor her and share her heart with you.
So, over the next year, that is what we will be doing in addition to more regular podcast episodes.
If you didn’t get a chance to meet my mom, these translated Hungarian folk tales will help you take a peek into her heart.
KING MATTHIAS AND THE YOUNG VILLAGE MAYOR
On the edge of the village of Keszi, King Matthias saw a man walking toward him, leading a calf. “It looks like the Mayor,” thought the King to himself. When the man got a little closer, King Matthias greeted him.
“Good morning, my friend,” called out the king. “I was just coming to see you and find out how things are in your village.”
“Things are very mixed up these days, Your Majesty,” replied the man.
“You are the Mayor, why don’t you straighten things out?” asked the king.
“Good King,” began the man, “I am no longer the Mayor. My son is now the Mayor.”
“Tell me, how did this all happen?” asked the king, putting his arm around the man’s shoulder.
“My son feels old men are not suited to be Mayors.” “But you are not old,” insisted the king.
“To my son I seem like a very old man. He insisted his youth and energy made him a much better mayor than I. So I thought perhaps it would be wise to give him the chance to prove himself.”
“Good idea,” replied the king. “I think I’ll go to the village hall to see him and ask how
things are coming along.”
When the king arrived at the village hall, he saw that the Mayor was very young indeed. “A man as young as you is not suited to be Mayor,” the king told him.
“Your Majesty,” replied the young man. “Look at me. I am young and handsome, intelligent, and strong. I am able to do any task under the sun, ” he said, showing the king his muscles.
“Good,” said the king, “then, if you can do anything under the sun, you will be able to do what I ask you too.”
“Of course,” said the Young Mayor confidently.
“On my return to the castle, I will stop here at this village again,” began the king, “and you must bring to this hall, thirty wolves, forty wise men, and seventy simpletons,” ordered the king.
The Young Mayor, on his way home, thought and thought about how he would be able to do this thing the king had asked of him. He became troubled for he could find no answer. That night at supper, he didn’t even eat for he was so bothered by the problem. His father could see that the Young Mayor was upset.
‘”What is the trouble my young son?” asked his father, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are the village Mayor. You should not have problems so great you cannot solve them.”
“But Father, King Matthias has told me that before he returns to our village again I must be able to bring together at his command thirty wolves, forty wise men, and seventy simpletons. And, if I should fail to bring them, he will not let me be Mayor of the village any longer.”
“That should not be such a big problem to such a bright young man like yourself,” answered his father.
“But how can I ever do what the king has commanded?”
“Now that you are Mayor, my son, it is your problem to solve,” replied his father.
But secretly the father went out to get the answer for the king by himself. He went to all the neighboring villages to gather together thirty men, each of them thirty years old. Then he gathered together forty men, and each was forty years old. Last of all, he gathered together seventy men, and each was seventy years old. Then he returned home.
When King Matthias returned, he asked the Young Mayor to bring to the village the thirty wolves, forty wise men, and seventy simpletons.
The Young Mayor shook his head sadly and said, “I cannot, Your Majesty.”
Quickly his father spoke up, “Your Majesty, I will be the one to give you the answer, for I have gathered them all.”
“And where are they?” asked the king.
“Right here,” said the Young Mayor’s father as he calls in the men he had gathered. “Thirty young men, all thirty years old, and strong as wolves, every one.”
“Good,” said the king, nodding his head.
“And here are thirty-nine men. I am the fortieth. Since we are all forty years old, we are neither too young nor too old to be wise. We are certainly the wisest men here,” he continued.
The king nodded his head again.
“And,” said the man as he pointed to the group of old men, “here are seventy men, all seventy years old. Since they are so very old, their minds have become weak, and they are simpletons.”
“Behold,” said the good King Matthias, “the father has more brains than the son.” The king turned to the father and said, “You will be the Mayor here and your son shall hold office no longer.” Then, turning to the young man he said, “I see it is your father who is the clever one, not you. It is he, not you, that is suited to be the Mayor of this village.”
The young son shook hands with his father and smiled. “The king is right, my father.”
The king placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder and spoke to him. “You will gain more by using your mind and your heart than by using your muscles and force.”
