Thoughts on thoughts and images of beautiful things

Monthly Archives: October 2012

The Berkshires in Autumn


Stories from the past


Visiting my grandparents in New England has always been a cultural experience. They are immigrants from the Czech Republic, former Czechoslovakia, and they certainly have a rich history to recount. I love hearing their stories, but also sometimes resent them for their strict ideals and harsh criticisms, in that German/Eastern European kind of way. My grandparents got married at a young age in Prague before leaving shortly after the Russians invaded and escaped communism. They left separately, my grandmother on a a scholarship to study in Paris with the promise to return but never did, and my grandfather escaped with help from a trustworthy (luckily) spy through the woods one night with only a briefcase in hand. My grandfather spent time in refugees camps in Germany before making his way to Paris to rejoin with my grandmother, and how incredible it is that they were actually able to find each other.

I’ve heard stories about the Nazis, one Czech soldier and one German soldier, going to my grandfather’s house at 6 in the morning, searching the house, taking their radio so they could not hear the news, and arresting his father, my great grandfather. He was a diplomat and was being watched when on a trip to Sweden and then arrested when he arrived back in Prague. He spent a few months in jail before being released because he knew German and the guards were worried he would overhear what they were saying. I’ve heard stories about loudspeakers throughout the city announcing who had died in the prisons that day and people in the streets crying for those they had known. I’ve heard stories about how the communists took away my family’s possessions, as well as their house because it was a nice house and forced them to live in a place that was not as nice because the communists wanted the house for themselves. I’ve heard stories about the communists not allowing my great uncle to pursue his studies because some of his family members (my grandfather) had fled the country. I’ve heard stories about the communists forcing a family member who had been a lawyer to leave his job and work in a coal mine. I’ve heard stories about a second cousin, now a publisher, writing underground pamphlets protesting the communist regime.

It is stories like these that interest me in what my family and so many others like them have gone through under the Nazis and then the Communists. It is stories like these that I associate with visiting my grandparents in New England and haunt me – not necessarily in a negative way, just in an intriguing way. I was recently in New England and these memories and stories resurfaced, as I talked to my grandfather, who is unfortunately in a declining state and not as coherent as he used to be, but I hope to hear more stories in the future still…

In search of a more beautiful place


I am searching for a more beautiful place than here. Here, is Indiana. More beautiful places, for me, are many places in Europe. Last winter, I went to the Czech Republic and spent most of the time in Prague – the most magical city in the world (I think!) Prague is so beautiful and charming; it’s like a dream. So full of history, like many places in Europe, and you can really see it and feel it everywhere around you. You can tell that the people there lead, and have led, a hard life. The beautiful city they live in seems to be of no avail to them because it is simply where they live, much to their detriment perhaps (because of what they have been through with the Nazis and then the communists). But to a visitor, even aware of its history, it seems so magnificent and just beautiful.

Another beautiful place I have had the pleasure of enjoying is Rome, Italy. I was born there and lived there for the first eight years of my life. Rome, of course, is very historic and its history can certainly be seen and felt there as well. It is home to many attractions that people flock there to see, like the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps, the Vatican, Campo di Fiori, Piazza Navona, etc. Places that I experienced everyday as a young child and could not possibly understand their significance at the time. Even now, I suppose I do not view the city as other tourists do because to me it was simply home for 8 years…home, 5 minutes from the Pantheon and Piazza Navona…what sounds like a dream now looking back on it.

Places like these, that are so much more beautiful than the United States, to me, are places I would like to try to get back to in the near future.



I recently saw the movie, Beasts of the Southern Wild, and it reminded me that when we are touched or moved by a problem in the world or something that saddens us, it only seems to have an effect on us while we are confronted by it and afterward the effect slowly fades into no effect, or at least not as great as the initial effect. I thought this movie, although not easy or enjoyable to watch because it is so sad, is very good. Seen from the perspective of a young girl, her philosophy on life and death, suffering and courage, is very interesting. It is so sad at times but also so beautiful that it made me cry. Her insight into what life might mean is simple and extraordinary. The saddest part of all, perhaps, is that we are so moved by something like this in the moment, but afterward it fades away and we forget about what bothered us about it in the first place. This is the sad part. We need to try to keep up the feeling of emotion evoked from such things in order to be moved to make a change.