In 1956 and '57, Hungary was in the midst of "de-Stalinization" and suffering the pains of political turmoil as insurgents fought against the Russian and Hungarian troops. As with all conflicts, the main result was refugees in need of medical assistance, food, and clothing. The International Committee of the Red Cross began a relief effort and requested donations across its world-wide net.
In the tiny hamlet of Claysburg, PA (pop. 1398), my grandmother came home from church one day after the pastor had announced the Red Cross's call for donations. She grabbed an empty box and walked around the house filling it with old clothes, coats, and miscellaneous canned goods. This drew the attention of her oldest daughter, Elaine, who was 12 at the time.
Elaine, being young, did not understand the spiritual reward of anonymous charity, so she slipped a note with her name and address into the pocket of one of the coats. Or maybe to her, it was a message in a bottle, something only a child could believe would be answered. However, her effort was not in vain.
A few months later, a letter unlike the others arrived in the mailbox. Stamped with AIRMAIL tags and wrinkled from long travel,it was addressed to Elaine. She opened it to find a neatly penned note written in some unknown language she assumed to be Hungarian because of the return address.
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The Ebersoles didn't know anyone that spoke Hungarian. There weren't any Hungarians for 500 miles in any direction across cow fields or over the Allegheny Mountains, so she put the letter in the drawer, but didn't forget about it.
Elaine, who went on to be my mother, ignited a light bulb above her head after she met my girlfriend Ildi, the daughter of a German and a Hungarian immigrants. My mother dug in the correct drawer and produced the letter, now brown with age.
The old script was placed on a Hewlett-Packard digital scanner and emailed around. It turns out the text is in German, not Hungarian, but Mr. and Mrs. P were still able to translate. Here's what it said:
Dear Elaine, The package, which you sent to "Nameless Recipient", was accepted (received) by me. Please accept my sincere thanks for this gift. I was very happy to have found your address in one of the pockets of the fur coat. In this way, I have the opportunity to thank you personally. I am a Sekund (secondary or adjunct?) minister for the districts surrounding our town. I finished my theology studies two years ago. Now, in this winter month, I must visit these outlying districts ( parishes ?)and provide the religious instructions. I do this every day, on my motorcycle. For these journeys you need really warm skirts! Don't be surprised , that I will wear these winter skirts on these trips! It will be their initiation. Our winters are not only very cold, but long. I will repeat my thanks. Please excuse that I am writing this in German, and not in your native language, as I don't know that language. With my best wishes, L. Finda
48 years later, we learn that she was just saying, "thanks." I'd also like to give a big thanks to Mr. and Mrs. P for their linguistic skills, and a big thanks to my mom for having curiosity for me to inherit. Related Links: – The Red Cross's history of relief to Hungary – Wikipedia: History of Hungary – Census data on Claysburg, PA
In 1956 and '57, Hungary was in the midst of "de-Stalinization" and suffering the pains of political turmoil as insurgents fought against the Russian and Hungarian troops. As with all conflicts, the main result was refugees in need of medical assistance, food, and clothing. The International Committee of the Red Cross began a relief effort and requested donations across its world-wide net.
In the tiny hamlet of Claysburg, PA (pop. 1398), my grandmother came home from church one day after the pastor had announced the Red Cross's call for donations. She grabbed an empty box and walked around the house filling it with old clothes, coats, and miscellaneous canned goods. This drew the attention of her oldest daughter, Elaine, who was 12 at the time.
Elaine, being young, did not understand the spiritual reward of anonymous charity, so she slipped a note with her name and address into the pocket of one of the coats. Or maybe to her, it was a message in a bottle, something only a child could believe would be answered. However, her effort was not in vain.
A few months later, a letter unlike the others arrived in the mailbox. Stamped with AIRMAIL tags and wrinkled from long travel,it was addressed to Elaine. She opened it to find a neatly penned note written in some unknown language she assumed to be Hungarian because of the return address.
Page 1
Page 2
The Ebersoles didn't know anyone that spoke Hungarian. There weren't any Hungarians for 500 miles in any direction across cow fields or over the Allegheny Mountains, so she put the letter in the drawer, but didn't forget about it.
Elaine, who went on to be my mother, ignited a light bulb above her head after she met my girlfriend Ildi, the daughter of a German and a Hungarian immigrants. My mother dug in the correct drawer and produced the letter, now brown with age.
The old script was placed on a Hewlett-Packard digital scanner and emailed around. It turns out the text is in German, not Hungarian, but Mr. and Mrs. P were still able to translate. Here's what it said:
Dear Elaine, The package, which you sent to "Nameless Recipient", was accepted (received) by me. Please accept my sincere thanks for this gift. I was very happy to have found your address in one of the pockets of the fur coat. In this way, I have the opportunity to thank you personally. I am a Sekund (secondary or adjunct?) minister for the districts surrounding our town. I finished my theology studies two years ago. Now, in this winter month, I must visit these outlying districts ( parishes ?)and provide the religious instructions. I do this every day, on my motorcycle. For these journeys you need really warm skirts! Don't be surprised , that I will wear these winter skirts on these trips! It will be their initiation. Our winters are not only very cold, but long. I will repeat my thanks. Please excuse that I am writing this in German, and not in your native language, as I don't know that language. With my best wishes, L. Finda
48 years later, we learn that she was just saying, "thanks." I'd also like to give a big thanks to Mr. and Mrs. P for their linguistic skills, and a big thanks to my mom for having curiosity for me to inherit. Related Links: – The Red Cross's history of relief to Hungary – Wikipedia: History of Hungary – Census data on Claysburg, PA