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Our Stories
with Zoltan Voross

For this evening we made up titles and told stories from youth, of love, of loss and more. Zoltan wrote the following eight short stories as input for the evening:

1. THE LITTLE RED UMBRELLA
Who is the little girl in the picture, next to Maria with a lovely smile
and cute dimples, with the striped ribbon in her golden, curly hair?
Oh! Get off it! That's not a little girl-it's me-sitting next to my
sister. At the age of two, my life's goal was to grow up to become a
big, six-year-old girl just like her.

"Are you sure that's the umbrella you want?" my mother asked when I
started kindergarten. "Isn't it too girlish with those flowers imprinted
in the cloth?" Before she bought it, I had to promise to love the little
red umbrella for life.

That little parapluie was five times as wide as it was tall, when I held
it. It made me look like a walking mushroom-a female mushroom. Yet, to me, it became a sacred symbol of a promise to love. To this day, I enjoy walking in a rainstorm with an oversized umbrella, and whenever I come up to a lovely mushroom, I always give it a friendly smile.

2. DEAD BOY WALKING
"Is it all right to talk in front of the kid?" the doctor asked my father
when I was nine. My life expectancy was measured in months, due to an enlarged heart. I was forbidden to run, to row a canoe, to climb a
mountain, to ski on the fluffy snow, or ever to ride a bicycle.

My father understood my predicament. When he was young, an unruly horse on the farm kicked him and he almost died. He not only lived, he
celebrated being alive like no one I had ever known. Thumbing his nose
at the doctor's advice he bought me a little red bicycle, saying, "Let
the boy live, before he dies."

The Angel of Death was now no longer able to intimidate me by threatening to take away my life. I had nothing to lose any more. I could look him in the eye with a defiant smile and tell him where to go. This
nine-year-old boy, in love with life, with a spirit unrestrained by fear
of death, was ready to embark on a daring journey into life's adventures.

3. THE RUSSIAN FRONT
The numerical superiority of the Soviet hordes drove our armies into
constant retreat. They would be storming up from the deep ravine beyond the neighbor's house. Our house was the ideal location for the German artillery to "welcome" the advancing enemy. Three cannons fired away sporadically all day at distant targets.

It was December 24-th, 1944. A squad of Wehrmacht riflemen defended the neighbor's house on the ravine's ridge. From a distance of about thirty yards, I watched the heavy machinegun to the left fire at targets that came ever closer as the day wore on. Then it fired the final protective line. One-by-one, I saw the three men of its heroic crew get killed.

To exploit the hole in the line, the Russians charged into the ravine with a massive force of about two whole platoons and started to storm up to the ridge. The German officer in charge of the defense joined me at my spot where we could see everything without being in the way of anything. His clean, pressed uniform reflected his cool-headed confidence in his own power to apply a solution to the problem at hand. To counter the loss of his machine-gun, he ordered six more field artillery pieces to join the three already in our yard. He asked me, in sign language, as we didn't speak each other's tongues, if he may cut down a skinny little tree (younger than I) that stood in the way.

A fantastic beehive of activity broke loose among the men in the
artillery. A devastating barrage fell on the Russian held ravine,
killing about forty enemy soldiers in sixty seconds. I guess we called
that a victory.

The Russians took the village by nightfall. To avenge their losses, they
started to murder the civilian population of the village. My mother,
sister and I escaped by pretending to be strangers just passing through,
so they could not accuse us of being witnesses to the Christmas day
massacre of Sárkeresztes.

4. THE TOUGHEST GANG IN THE WORLD
I chose to become a first-class killer. Private First Class, in the
United States Army, 25-th Tropical Lightning Division, 14-th Golden
Dragon Infantry Regiment. They trained me to slowly squeeze the trigger of my rifle to kill a man as far as five hundred yards, or at rapid fire at targets near by, lying prone, sitting, kneeling, standing, walking or
running like a hunter chasing after game, or to kill him with a bayonet
if he was only inches away. Similarly, I was fully trained and qualified
in using a pistol, carbine, machinegun, hand grenade, grenade launcher,
recoilless rifle, mortar, and the Browning Automatic. I crawled on my
belly under barbed wire with a machinegun firing live ammo over my head. I lay as flat as a frog on the ground between the two tracks of a
monstrous tank as it ran over me. If I should run into any problem I
couldn't solve, they would call in the support of heavy weapons,
artillery, tanks, fighter planes and naval bombardment to help me rip the
guts out of any Communist bastard crossing my path.

I had rescinded my student deferment and volunteered to become this first class killer. I became the foot soldier, the center of operations,
around whom the world revolved. Supplies, transportation, communication, politics, the United States Congress, the President, and all the free world stood firmly behind me.

When the Communists found out I was coming to get them in earnest, within less than a month, they signed the final version of the Korean armistice. Of course, I don't take credit for that personally. There were a million men-just like me. Our generation was boisterous and wild. We
risked our lives to save the world from the disaster of a nuclear war.
We had values, discipline, honor, victory and pride.

5. MARRIAGE
Upon the gentle waters of the Kikapoo River under Wisconsin's summer sky, the end of my bachelorhood floated into my life on a canoe. Susan was beautiful, intelligent and lovable. Like myself, she had an open mind. We both resisted following the dictates of conventional mores. We analyzed, we criticized, we agreed, and we loved. It seemed like our heartbeats were synchronized in heaven.

We spent our honeymoon skiing the slopes of Aspen, Colorado. The entertainers played, "Happy ever-aftering in the Land of Camelot," just for us, as everyone cheered and wished us well.

6. DIVORCE
The honeymoon was over. Similarities turned into differences. My
strategy to deal with society's imperfections was to join forces with
corporate and governmental establishments. As a senior level electronics research engineer, I had an open invitation (and financial backing) to fix or to invent, improve or redesign just about anything I ever wanted to.

Her strategy was to go on political demonstrations, working against the establishment. At social gatherings, she criticized and insulted my colleagues, bosses and clients. In my mind, everything I did, was for my family. Yet, she sabotaged my effort. When she started to rob my children's lives and happiness with her liberal stupidity, I sued for divorce. I feel guilty for leaving my children behind, but I wasn't sure
who was right. After all, I was just an engineer. Her specialty was child psychology.

To this day, none of the three adult children have recovered sufficiently from the damage of childhood to have enough self-confidence to get married or even to get and hold a full-time job. I have no hope for grand children. I became a man without any seed left behind. My life started to grow dreary and cold, like an extinguished candle flame.

7. TRUE LOVE
Paula was a natural blonde. Fair skin. Blue eyes. Warm to touch.
"We German women don't ask our men if we may do something. We just do what we want!" What she wanted to do was to conquer my heart.

She too was one of the children of the war. We understood each other deeply, without speaking. I told her that according to an old Hungarian song, lilacs could cure your soul. Together, we walked in the park to smell the lilac blossoms in May. In my marriage, love was mostly a one-way street. With Paula, I felt loved back. We decided to stay together till death do us part.

The lilac flowers bloomed again next May when I was off to see her for
the last time. I tore off a leaf and carried it with me, and when no one
was looking, in private silence, I dropped it into her coffin.

8. BEFUDDLING FUTURE
The Angel of Death need not be afraid of me anymore. My life had been full and adventurous. There were times when love touched my heart, though not enough.

If the ideal woman should find her way to the door of my heart once more, what could I possibly offer her but my wounded spirit, self doubting mind and weary bones? Did my lust for love go away-gone with the wind? Would I say, "Frankly, darling, I no longer give a damn'?" Or would I still dare to transcend my weakness and stage
a rebellious finale upon the arena of life? Could I perhaps sing, "Play,
Gypsy! Play! Play like there is no tomorrow. Let the strings of your
violin explode into a heap of trash!" Would I have the courage to say
what once I've heard my father say, "Before he dies, let the boy live!"

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E-Question: What is a memorable title for one of your life stories?
Send your response to
Gregg Millett

Sex in the sinking rubber raft on Lake Underdunk.

My most embarrassing moment --- On stage in front of a full house!

The Ship of Dreams

I Should've Stayed Lost on The Way to His House: It Would Have Saved Me Eight Years

Coming to America

Waiting to Exhale

Memoir from Antproof Case

The First Time I Witnessed A True Miracle

Adjoining Rooms.....

You Had Me at Hello

Rented Houseboats offer no Privacy

You Take the Bitch, I'll Keep the Dog

CAUGHT!!!!!"...

The Summer

Seventeen

OINK,OINK,OINK,OINK,OINK,OINK

Blind Faith

Adventures of a Small Town Girl

The check's in the mail.

I Can't Believe I Did That!

I Am So Gullible!

I'LL EAT THAT CROW AS SOON AS I GET MY FOOT OUT OF MY MOUTH."

You have to kiss a few frogs before you meet your prince!

The Day My Life Began

The day I remet myself for the first time

My First Trip to Vegas

That Special Moment In Time

A Moment of Clarity

The First Time I Had Sex in a Car

Curiosity killed the dawg.

My first touch

Showda staid in skool

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