Some people just have more ‘life’ in them than others – more things they’ve done, more things they want to do, and more creative minds that take them to different places. My grandfather was such a person, and upon his recent death, my mother and I have been examining his life as we’ve been trying to write his obituary. I’m just amazed by all that he has done – not that everything he did was terribly significant, although some things certainly were, but it’s the little things like his hobbies and interests that add up to a remarkable life. He was a fantastic photographer (although not professionally trained) and set up his own darkroom in his house to develop pictures, he was an accomplished pianist (which ran in the family), he traveled extensively throughout Europe with my grandmother, he had several careers as a teacher, journalist and professor, he had an intellect that I haven’t seen surpassed by anyone else that I’ve encountered (although I’ve had some fantastic professors that have come close), and was an art collector & chess player. He fled his homeland due to political unrest and left his family behind, never to see them again, lived in four countries ranging two continents, and knew four languages. He wrote several scholarly books and articles and, most importantly, he had a tremendous sense of humor. He made fun of people, criticized everything, and had very strong opinions regarding politics; but now, looking back, it was all in good fun (maybe). As I think about all these things that my grandfather has done and accomplished, I just can’t fathom that someone could have the enthusiasm to do all those things with and the heart to survive some of the things that he has. It’s really amazing to me. Like I said, some people just have more ‘life’ in them than others.
Category Archives: Foreign
What we can’t do in life, we live through the movies
0What we can’t do in life, we live through the movies. This is what came to mind as I watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Watching Walter Mitty go on his adventures was inspiring, but also unrealistic. We would all love to undergo a drastic change in our lives by going on adventures of that magnitude, but unfortunately there are a myriad of reasons why we can’t – work, money, family, responsibilities, time, and fear to name a few. But this is what the movies are for and what makes them so remarkable. Even if we can’t do something in our own life, we can watch it on screen and in a small way experience it ourselves. Having adventures like going to Greenland and hopping on a helicopter only to land in the ocean before being rescued onto a boat, or going to Iceland and experiencing a volcano eruption, or going to the Himalayan mountains to witness the sighting of a snow leopard are made possible by the movies, even if only in our imagination. And this is why I love the movies.
Walter Mitty’s transformation throughout the film stood out to me as the focal point and it was apparent in everything from his clothes to his personality to his interactions with those around him, including the woman he was trying to impress by his adventures. The soundtrack, which included David Bowie, Arcade Fire, Of Monsters and Men, and Rogue Wave really made the film. It added so much feel-good sentiment that I don’t know if the adventures would have been quite as exciting and inspiring without the soundtrack or had there been different song choices. It was just perfect. It was definitely fun to watch, although a bit confusing at times because of Walter’s zoned out tendencies, which sometimes made it hard to decipher what was actually happening and what was just in his imagination. It did, however, become more clear after his first couple of zoned out episodes. Ben Stiller, as the main actor and producer of the film, did a great job, and Sean Penn’s small role added just enough oomph. I would say the moral of the film is to embrace the person you would like to be and just go for it. Also, to go on adventures.
Living in my grandparents’ house
0I recently moved for a new job, which is conveniently located where my grandparents live, and while they do not live at home but in a nursing home, I am living in their house. Living in someone else’s house can be strange, especially when it’s still full of all their things. However, when it’s someone you know or are close to, it’s not quite as strange. In fact, I am rather enjoying living in my grandparents’ house. Of course, I am lucky because they have a rather nice house. It’s full of art, books, records, Scandinavian furniture, culture, and history. I can feel the culture and history because I know about my grandparents’ past, but to a guest who might not know about my grandparents’ past, the culture and history might not be as obvious. My grandparents are immigrants from Czechoslovakia (now the Czech Republic) and they escaped when the Russians invaded. Their story is very interesting to me because I can’t imagine going through what they had to go through…having things like their homes taken away from them, their rights to do certain things, and ultimately leaving their families behind to have a better life elsewhere. So with these things in mind, I look around the house and take in all the history and culture as much as I can. There is something that feels very foreign about the house, but in a good way. It transports me to a different time and place that is unknown to me, but no less interesting.
Identity
0Establishing a place and identity has been difficult for me since I was born in Italy, lived there for 8 years, and then moved to the United States where I have spent last 14 years of my life. Wow, that’s a long time. I don’t like counting how long it’s been since we left Italy, so I often lose track of how long it’s actually been. But I’ve always had this conflict within me of not really knowing where I belonged. It hash’t been overwhelming to the point where I feel completely lost, but rather just indifferent to both Italy and the U.S. Despite being an American citizen and living in the U.S. for most of my life, I do not feel very American and certainly don’t feel patriotic in the least. At the same time, I can’t say that I feel very Italian either. I was born there and spent those early formative years of my life there, but I am not ethnically Italian, and therefore, was more like an outsider living in Italy. Of course, the Italian people are very warm and embracing, so we didn’t feel like intruders or out of place. I am extremely grateful for my childhood in Italy, as I realize this is an opportunity that not many American children have. I have the fondest of memories of my birthplace and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
That being said, my love for Europe and desire to go back exceeds my interest, or lack thereof, to remain in the U.S. and build a life here. But then again, my family is here in the U.S. and going to Europe on business seems challenging for non-EU citizens. So I suppose it will continue to be a conflict, but will hopefully be resolved at some point in my life, if I’m lucky.
Fantasies
0We all have fantasies about what we want to do in life. But the question is, how do we decipher a fantasy from what we want to turn into reality? I’ve often thought about different things that I would like to do, like teach English abroad, make movies, be an interior designer…but I can’t tell if these are things I would actually do, or if I just like to think about them. What propels one to actually carry out an idea rather than just think of it as a fantasy? I think it takes a great deal of perseverance to carry out what you actually want to do. Sometimes it’s easier to settle for something that you might not like quite as much, but is still somewhat enjoyable.
A different world
0I recently had an encounter with someone on a completely different level from myself, just from a different world. I was out east visiting my grandfather in Massachusetts, and I met with one of my his former students that was in town and went to visit him. As she speaks about her life, it seems as though it is just so cultured and beyond what I can imagine to be someone’s actual daily life. She is Indian and she lives in Oslo and has also spent time in Singapore, she knows how to speak French Norwegian, and Hindi, besides English, she has had a successful career in finance working on Wall Street, she was educated in Ivy League schools, she lived in Paris when she was younger and then New York, she is married to a Norwegian, and she has three kids with very bright futures ahead of them. She also just built a nice modern house in MA with custom touches throughout. While in MA she plays golf everyday and enjoys summer plays. As I listened to her speak, I found her very cultured and interesting, but also privileged, critical, and pretentious. It’s great that she has had the background that she has and is able to live the way she can, but not everyone has the same opportunities. Not everyone has a multicultural, worldly family, not everyone can go to an Ivy League school, either because of prior education and grades or financial means, and not everyone can have a successful career in stocks. So while I was very interested in her and inspired by her as a model to aspire to, I was also discouraged because it seems unattainable for most people, including myself.
Memorial Day – another reminder of how un-American I feel
0Having been born in Rome, Italy and grown up there for the first 8 years of my life, moving the U.S., especially Indiana, was not such a happy prospect for me. Consequently, I have never felt very American…I have just never really identified myself as an American. Not that I identify with being Italian either, since there are no Italians in my lineage and it’s been 10 years since I have been back to Italy, so I guess I can’t identify myself with any nationality, which is sometimes a scary thing. Where do I belong? I often think, on a day in Indiana when I am particularly aware of its unpleasantness, certainly not here. But then, on other occasions, I think it’s not all that bad. My family is here after all, and your family is really all you have.
On this Memorial Day Weekend, while all the true Americans were having their cookouts and drinking beer, I was reminded of how un-American I feel. I just can’t relate and I don’t fit in. It kind of disgusts me actually. I am not patriotic and I don’t understand it.
Worldly connections
1Do you ever wonder what random people in other parts of the world are doing? Or how you can personally be connected to people in other countries? What parallels might run through people living completely separate lives in completely different places? Since I love traveling and have been to most of the countries in Europe, I sometimes think about what people might be doing at any given moment in Rome or Paris, or Singapore, a place I have not been to. This thought occurred to me this morning as I was waiting at a stop light and there was a man on a moped in the lane next to me. In northern Indiana, this seemed very out of place because one in a million people drive a moped here. But as I grew up in Italy, I was used to seeing people on mopeds constantly since it is such a common, natural way to get around there. So when I saw this man on the moped this morning, I thought about Italians that were riding their mopeds in Rome at that very moment, a world away. It is interesting how something like that can remind you of something that occurs in a different part of the world, and while you are not personally experiencing it in that other part of the world, by seeing it where you are, you are connected to others that might be doing it somewhere else in the world.
Sometimes I think – How can I be connected to every single person in the world? We can, quite easily actually, because we are all joint by human nature. But we are also connected on a more personal level in that we share similar experiences of thought, emotion, hope, despair, etc. even though we may be worlds apart and lead very different lives. This is one of the things that makes life beautiful – to think about people in other parts of the world and feel connected to them. I only wonder if they share the same feeling…
Stories from the past
0Visiting 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…





