June 28, 2015 – Kishegyes … “Requiescant in pace”

My Father-In-Law, Peter, had the soul of a gypsy.  Over the course of his life, he owned property in three different countries, Serbia, Germany and Hungary, and made a sincere effort to put his foot down on the soil of as many other places as he could.  I seriously doubt there is anyone on the planet that, within a few minutes of meeting him, wasn’t a friend for life regardless of whether they shared a language or not.

In the Catholic countries, the Name Day is almost more important than the birthday.  Flowers are exchanged and meals with friends and families are enjoyed.  Tomorrow is Saint Peter-Paul day.  It will also be the first that we will celebrate without Peter.  He succumbed to cancer and complications related to diabetes in October of last year.  This could quite possibly be one of the most difficult posts I have put up on this page – so bear with me if it doesn’t reach my usual level of self-disparagement.

Z will tell you that her most vivid memories revolve around food (about witch she is currently writing a cookbook/memoir – available soon on an Amazon Kindle near you!).  As you might have guessed, mine are more focused upon musical experiences.  I have many fabulous memories of Peter and music – he was a fellow enthusiast.  In honor of his Name Day, I would like to share a memory of my favorite two:

A couple of years back. Lojos-Baci was celebrating his 70^th birthday.  As is the case in these things around these parts, a band was hired.  In this case, the Primas of the ensemble was the first-call

violinist for the film studios in Budapest looking for traditional Roma style playing.  My family all know I play, and events like this are command performances anymore.  The expectation is that I will show with a horn and sit in with the band.  This group was so good, and the level of musicianship so overwhelming that I ended up playing with them for several hours.  Through it all, I could see Peter with the largest grin on his face, talking me up to his friends and relatives, dancing, and singing along with the tunes he knew.  He talked about that party wherever we went.  As much as I enjoyed playing (and it was really cool), it was clear that he had a way better time.

We go to the Wine Fest every year just before we leave – it is one of the last things we enjoy before getting on the plane home.  For the last five or six years, the last bit of entertainment has been the troop from the local community theatre performing the biggest tunes from operetta.  You may not be aware of this, but Hungary is a hot spot for the form, and although, sadly, not many of them get performed in the States, they are masterpieces of the form – every bit as funny and charming as Gilbert and Sullivan or Strauss.  Z and I always had a task that last evening – to get a table close enough that Peter could see the stage and costumes and all.  He would join us just before the performance began, and for the next two hours or so, he and Z would sing along at the top of their lungs with the crowd and the stage.  Mere words cannot capture the joy he was experiencing in that moment.

Peter has settled down now.  His ashes are in the family crypt in Kishegyes.  But as long as we hold onto his memory and tell his story, he still will be a gypsy in the world. 

If you think about it, please throw a buck or two at the Cancer Society in his name when you next get a chance - they do good work over there.

Because I hate ending this post on words – here is a medley of the operetta tunes as performed by a friendly accordion player at the wine fest last week  (because Blogger is stupid that way, you'll have to go over to YouTube).  Peter was, I’m sure, singing along.

YouTube Video of our Accordion Friend

Family and the Polka Band

It is sneaking up on Oktoberfest time again – or O’fest as we call it.  This is our yearly opportunity to travel the world by having the world come to us.  Our family all comes to visit and we get to find out what they’ve been up to.  A good time will be had by all!

Z Musikmakers in residence
at the Weingarten in Mt. Angel, OR

“Family,” in this case means a lot of things.  Of course our “real” families will be there.  We work collectively as a band called Z Musikmakers.  The band was founded by Paul Zollner to perform at the Mt. Angel Oktoberfest.  Along with his wife Pat, Paul has kept some version of it running for about 30 years now.  The core of the current band is Paul and three of his daughters, Monica, Tecie, and Christiana, with older sister Katie occasionally sitting in for Christi. 

Over the years, the Zollner family band has “adopted” several “Uncles” into the family.  The older of us met and became friends through connections in and around the University of Oregon.  I met Pat and Paul through a church music group.  Rob Neidig was their teacher in a morning conversational German class.  Greg Backstrom and Paul were acquainted through a business group in Eugene.  Our love of music has kept us together and friends for years now.  Our newest member, Nichlas Schaal, joined the band, after Pat “retired” a few years ago, via a friendship with the daughters.

Dave, Klaus, and Paul having a quick strategy conference
before the jam set between the Donaumusikanten and
Z Musikmakers.  We do this the last set of our Sunday
show every year.  If you haven't caught it, you
should come and enjoy it sometime!

Of course, the Uncles all come attached with their own families.  Greg’s wife, Shelley and their two kids, Rob’s wife, Rosie, and Nichlas’ wife, Joelle and his three children are frequent visitors to rehearsals and gigs, and are some of my best friends on the planet.  O’fest season is a chance for us to find out what everyone has been up to.  Although we once lived much closer together, we now all live miles apart and look forward to the once or twice a year catch up.

What does a typical day look like for an O’fest band?  It starts late.  We are a hard-partying group of – OK, I’m lying.  The truth is, it is hard work, and while we enjoy a drink or two and listening to our friends on stage (about which more in a minute), the reality is that we are generally in bed by 11 or 12 in the evening.  It still starts late though.  We aren’t as young as we used to be.  This is always followed by breakfast and the ceremonial lob of the first bad joke – usually by Greg.  It’s downhill from there: a day full of laughter, bad jokes, festival food, folk music, bad jokes, music making, and more bad jokes – followed by a few more “Adult Grain Beverages.”  If you have never been in a band before, you need to add it to you bucket list – it’s one of the best things ever.  My band mates are great entertainers, and a huge amount of fun to hang out with.  I miss the energy throughout the year when we aren’t working.

Making music at St Josef's in Canby
with the Donaumusikanten.

Of course, there are other families at O’fest.  Most of us have a visit of varying lengths by our extended family.  I am still trying to learn the names of all of the extended Zollner clan, but I can tell you from personal experience that there are 1,324, 289 of them.  All of them are swell folks – nicer people cannot be found – there are just a lot of them.  My parents can be found in the back-middle of the hall for every show – they haven’t missed an O’fest in years.  Stop by and say “hi,” they love to meet new folks.  I’ve met various brothers/sisters/uncles/aunts/pets of my band mates over the years, and that is of course part of the fun of the whole thing.

Our family of musical friends now covers the world.  Our friends Gordy and Danny Groening, with Rod and Mark form the Gordanaires from Vancouver, B.C., who are gracious enough to let me share the stage with them for several fests a year.  We also enjoy hanging with the fabulous musicians of the Salzberger Echo, who always drop by to talk brass-shop and to egg me on in playing some orchestral excerpts. Then there are Klaus, Andi, Harry, Hugo, Halef and Thomas of the Original Donaumusikanten from Ulm, Germany, who let me share the stage with them at St Josef’s Grape Stomp – funny guys and fun to hang out with.  Then there is Darlene Jones, who has subbed with our band a couple of times.  And many others.  Among other things (like bad jokes), O’fest is our opportunity to check in with our musician friends and share a laugh and a beer or two.  If you watch, you’ll frequently see groups of bands hanging out to watch each other’s show (and heckle from the crowd).  At least in our band, plans are made around seeing our friends play sometime every fest (so we can heckle them from the crowd) and cheering them on, catching their new tunes, and critiquing their show – in the best possible light.  It would probably be better to say “watch what they are doing that is cool so we can steal it and put it in our show.”  Theft, in the music business, is the most sincere form of flattery.

On stage in Leavenworth, WA with the Gordanaires.

The nice thing about O’fest crowds is that they are small enough that you can get to know some of your audience well.  Over the years, our extended family has grown to include many of these wonderful folks.  We have shared dinner with Dee and David, pictures and e-mails with Rosie, borrowed a dog kennel for our kids from Karen and Keith, and ran into Sharon and chatted for a while at the mall.  I have two friends at my local Applebee’s that I met through the starter, “you’re the trumpet player in that family group down there in Mt. Angel, aren’t you?”  There are many other similar stories.  There is a gentleman who I met while coming off the stage a couple of years ago who told me that he has caught every show the band has played at the Mt. Angel Oktoberfest for decades.  He is such a fan that to do this now requires a flight in every year from Australia.  I am honored to have met these folks, but even more blessed to have had the opportunity to get to know them.

In my case, I also am also fortunate to get to spend some time at O’fest with my “school family.”  The Mt. Angel folks were kind enough to ask a couple years ago if my school group would like to come down and perform.  Like most schools, we were not allowed to perform at a “beer fest.”  This is when I got the idea of putting together a community group that a centered around my students, joined by alums, parents, fellow teachers, and community adults.  Hence the “Columbia River Folk Band” was formed.  One of my biggest joys of O’fest lately is watching the look of shock on my student’s faces in the crowd on a Saturday afternoon when they watch their teacher make a fool of him on stage.  When I see heads on the table, I know I have scored.

I am looking forward with joy of seeing my “family” in the next few weeks.  If you are a “long lost relative,” drop by and reintroduce yourself, OK?  It would be nice to meet you.

7-2 Kishyges and Topolya

7-2

As further proof that things are not happy here in Serbia yet are recent articles in the Hungarian language Magyar Sző detailing attacks on people speaking Hungarian in the larger cities. Peter reinforced this a few days ago when he suggested we take the car up to Topolya to walk around, but to "be careful not to speak Hungarian" because there has been some violence there (Z and I, of course, hold lengthy conversations in Hungarian all the time). I am always a bit amazed by all of this. Here is a country that is currently doing everything it can to get into the Europen Union. They are rebuilding their infrastructure, getting all the modern conviences and stuff. Yet they still feel that they must snuff out the "foreigners." If they can't live peacably with each other in their own backyard, who is going to trust them in the international community.

Today is the beginning of Dombos (that's doam-bosh) Fest, the local music festival. It is held in an open field west of town. There is some talk that this will be the last year of the festival. It is heavily subsidized by the Serbian government and they are finding it "too Hungarian." The opening act this evening is a violinist who has made his debut in Carnegie Hall, but only gets 15 minutes of time on stage because he is crazy (read: drug addict). The rest of the evening is filled with a folk dance group and a disco for the kids.

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I haven't really started on the beers yet this trip. Suffice it to say I am "enjoying" a few, or as much as I can in Serbia. Most of them have been covered earlier in the blog. They are generic pilners, around 4.5%, and are yellow fizzy water. My description of them so far can best be somed up with this entry for Master Pils (a Heineken product): "It's a pils. Eh."

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Afternoon kavé this afternoon is spent in the company of Imre and Kati. Another afternoon for me of being a walking knick-knack. It goes with the turf sometimes of being the husband of a Hungarion wife. It's worth it.

The afternoon rains are brewing and the skies are getting that dark blue that foretells our daily afternoon storm is arriving, always an adventure if not at least for a break in the humidity. This afternoon features a huge electrical storm pretty much right on top of us. It didn't seem an opportune time to be holding a metal object, so I put away the horn and dug the show with my grandaughter. Pretty cool!

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Speaking of incongruouities, dinner this evening is as guests of Lajos and Bori at their Capriolo Restaurant (home of the greatest pizza on the planet, but we won't be having any this evening). The first incongruouity, the house sound system is playing flamenco music in Spanish. Then the chord changes start to sound familiar. Then - hey, isn't that? It is! It is! Hotel California, the flamenco version.
Dinner is guinnea hen soup, which I am told is fab, followed by a Greek salad and a mega-huge, Dan Ralph-sized house platter of grilled meat. You could hear the thump of Greg's jaw hitting the table. On the plus side, the chef is a vegetarian. I had the best veg plate I have had this trip, sautéd mushrooms, home-made soft cheese, stir-fried vegies and wild rice pilaf. No one can figure out how he cooks meat so well, but I'm not complaining.

Also dining with us this evening is Lajos III (Lali) with his wife Adrianna, daughter Lena, and Loijos IV, a cute little tyke about a year old. Lali is the head of the Capriolo bicycle empire (search "capriolo" online for their web site), about which you can find more information earlier in the blog. As a result of his buisness interests, Lali speaks excellent English, and so we were able to converse about business (slow, the economy), Greg's tattoos (finom), etc. It was a swell evening that stretched on long enough that we missed Dombos tonight. Maybe tomorrow...

6-27, Kishigyes and Topolya

6-27

We went into Topolya this morning for the open air market. It is amazing how much more selective you get after a couple of years of doing this. The romance has worn off a little bit and you wander around looking for only the best stuff. We strike out today - although there was this cool bread box...

This is followed later in the morning with a quick visit to Bori and Lajos's house to chat. We also got to sample some of his gold medal winning palinka. Repeatedly. At ten in the morning. Ain't vacation grand! The commercial stuff he is making now is slightly less lethal than the stuff Peter makes. It is smoother in finish and features the fruit flavors a little more prominantly. The three glasses we had this morning didn't hurt a bit.

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Lunch is at the home of Pista and Rozsa. Rozsa has a way of blurting out rather abrupt comments that have been rather hurtful to the ladies in my life in the past, but all seems to be forgiven today. Or so I am led to believe. Pista is one of Z's favorite uncles, because he had the farm with all the animals that she got to play with as a kid. She is always looking forward to meeting the latest animals, and has shared her enthusiasm this trip with Jaden, who can hardly wait to see them all.

Lunch starts with two more glasses of palinka - everyone agrees that Rozsa makes the best around. It is the big, lethal stuff that we have come to know and love. My notes get increasingly hard to read from this point on. Lunch was soup and some chicken thing for the carnivores, fried veggies and cheese for the veg. A very tasty meal, indeed.

7/3 & 4/08 Not in a Philadelphia

And we’re off.

Hailey picked us up at 6:00 a.m. after a very short night. We had a huge electrical storm with lots of thunder and lightning that made sleep somewhat unlikely. Alright, waiting to the last minute to pack probably didn’t help a whole lot either. On the plus side, we both got a whole lot more sleep than usual on the plane!

We did a play several years ago at VSAA that had a short piece called “Philadelphia” in it. According to author David Ives, to “be in a Philadelphia” meant that you could order anything you want; a burger, a chicken sandwich, and they will bring you a cheese steak. By these standards, you can’t be in a Philadelphia in Philadelphia, as there is no cheese steak to be had in the airport. We toyed with using our four hour layover to grab a cab and go downtown for one of the famous sandwiches. Needless to say, as a vegetarian, I wasn’t that into it. But Z would be, and that’s reason enough. We took a pass this time, but maybe on the way back.

You begin to notice on international trips that you are going through the looking glass as you catch the last leg of your flight. Increasingly the people around you speak in a language that is not yours. At this point, your attention is increasingly drawn to the way people behave, the cultural similarities and differences. A mother, with a tired but beautiful smile on her face trying to keep her daughter awake before the flight. A father and son, both with a laptop out, the former a PC the latter a Mac (I wonder if they argue over the commercials).

I was lucky enough to draw one of those people on the international leg of the flight that sits down in front of you and instantly drops the seat all the way back and then leaves it there for the remainder of the flight. It gets to be a little claustrophobic and hard to read and stuff. No I didn’t smack her or bounce the back of the chair around. But I thought about it.

The nice mom from the airport ended up sitting right next to us. Needless to say you start to worry a little on a flight where you are hoping to sleep a bit and you see a kid right next to you. The poor lady was obviously exhausted, but was completely devoted to her daughter. I took mom about two hours to get daughter to drop off, and then she slept for the rest of the flight. So did mom.

We were met in Munich by Kyra and Jaden. Jaden insisted that I sit in the back so we could talk on the hour-and-a-half ride to Vilseck, their home. Jaden has reached the age where she can explain anything, so the conversation was pretty humorous (“…a car is made by putting for wheels, and then you add the sides, and then you add the top, and then…”).

We celebrated the fourth with dinner and conversation with several of Kyra’s friends in Vilseck. Kim and Nick hosted a barbecue, with Katie and Russell and Z and I as guests, as well as a few drop-ins. The gentlemen needed to drop out for a bit after one of the guests left and had an accident on the way home (no one hurt). A pleasant evening of conversation.

Several of you commented on our last trip that you enjoyed the beer notes. There should be several this trip so I’ll try and keep you posted.

Meister Pils, Schwarben Bräu Breweri, Stuttgart, 4.9% by Volume

To be fair, this beer is past its pull date. That said; the beer is more malty than hoppy. The nose is supposed to be Tettnanger according to the label (yes, they sell themselves on their aromatics). Very flavorful taste on the front of the mouth, with a nice chewy flavor that is all malt. Disappears on the back of the palette quickly, with little contribution to the overall flavor. A nice session beer. And yes, I enjoyed my session. (www.schwabenbraeu.de)

7/02/08 Round Two!

And so the adventure continues again…

This trip we are scheduled to travel to Munich (you can hear the little bubbles calling my name, can’t you?), where Kyra will pick us up and take us to her home in Vilseck. From there Peter (Z’s father, if you are a bit behind), will pick us up and, with me at the wheel (can you say “autobahn?”) travel to Keszthely. We’ll hang out there for a couple of weeks with the family and see some stuff, maybe catch a play in Hungarian at the castle, possibly run up to Budapest and very likely Kecskemet, and then back to Kyra’s for some quality time in the land of beer and polkas (and so I am told culture and food and stuff like that).

Of course you notice that there are a lot of “possiblies” and “maybes” in the above list. If you have been following along so far, you know that the plan kind of exists in a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants way. So here is the wish list:

*I hope to see the castle in Keszthely this trip
*I would love to see the big ruin on the hill north of Keszthely
*I want to lay on the beach by what my granddaughter is now referring to as the “ocean” (Lake Balaton) and catch some sun and some z’s
*I would love to stop on one of the trips through and live out a lifelong dream of reading a paper and having a kaffee mit schlag in a little café in Vienna
*One word, Hofbrauhaus
*Oh yeah, and Kulmbach
*Oh and all those Klosters
*And the source of all that is good, Pilsn Czechoslovakia (you know, the place that “pilsner” comes from…)

I know that I will eat great, so I am really looking forward to that (my mother-in-law is one of the greatest cooks on the planet). I hear that some side trips to Neuschwandstein and stuff like that are being talked about, and that would be awesome. And I know that I am going to spend some quality time with Kyra and my favorite granddaughter, Jaden (OK, she is my only granddaughter, don’t wreck the moment). I also hear that there is a party planned where I will get to meet the wives and families of Greg’s unit, and that is going to be really cool.

But mostly, I’m going to relax and go with the flow. Like usual. No really.

Let round two begin…