Today would have been Karoly's 33rd birthday, but instead it is the day after the one-year anniversary of his death. I've dreaded this day for a while because now I can no longer say "This time last year, he was alive," and that makes it a little more real. I also hate that all of the "firsts without Karoly" have come and gone, and every Thanksgiving and Christmas from now on will be the second, third, fourth...On the one hand, the pain is a little less acute, or at least no longer a surprise; on the other hand, now the passage of time will be marked by the accumulation of occasions without him.
Anyone who knew Karoly was familiar with his characteristic, no-holds-barred honesty. Sometimes he was a little less than diplomatic, but it was also one of his endearing qualities, especially since it potentially saved my life. If not my actual pulse, then certainly at least the content of the life I have now.
When I was 18 and finished with high school, I didn't know what to do next. I didn't own a car and had to borrow my Mom's for my babysitting jobs, which was my only source of income. I decided I wanted to go to college and didn't want to run up a lot of debt in the process, so I called up the local Army recruiting office and told them I wanted to enlist. I filled out all the paperwork, took all the aptitude tests, and was guaranteed a contract to enlist as an Army medic with a pretty generous GI bill for college when I was done. I asked my family for their opinion, feeling pretty confident in my course but wanting feedback. No one, not even my Dad, voiced any objections. All I had to do was take my physical, at the end of which I would sign my enlistment papers. A week before this was supposed to happen we had a family barbecue, which was the first time Karoly had heard about my plans to join the Army. He was livid. "Mom, Dad, I can't believe you haven't told her this is retarded! You can't let Tirzah join the Army!" As it turned out, my family was waiting for Fr. Joseph to talk me out of it and were content to let him be the one to rock the boat. Karoly beat him to it. After hearing my reasons for wanting to enlist, he asked me to wait a while before I made a final decision. Karoly and I weren't close at that point, but I respected his opinion and valued his input, plus he was the only person who told me what he really thought. A few days later he called me. "Will you agree not to join the Army if I give you my car so you can go to school here?"
"Um, heck yes."
"You have to agree not to enlist for at least two years; after that if you still want to be retarded you can."
So I enrolled at Shoreline and felt extremely cool when I pulled into the parking lot in my zippy Nissan Maxima complete with CD player and power everything. And it was mine. I love being from a big family, but when there are nine kids personal ownership is a little hard to come by. Plus I had just been given a car that I never would have been able to afford; talk about putting a spring in my step. I think it was good for me as a teenager to drive my parents' cars, but when you want to look cool it's a little hard to pull off in a giant station wagon with wood paneling. Oh, the punchline: the day I told the Army I wasn't enlisting was a week before 9/11.
Today would have been Karoly's 33rd birthday, but instead it is the day after the one-year anniversary of his death. I've dreaded this day for a while because now I can no longer say "This time last year, he was alive," and that makes it a little more real. I also hate that all of the "firsts without Karoly" have come and gone, and every Thanksgiving and Christmas from now on will be the second, third, fourth...On the one hand, the pain is a little less acute, or at least no longer a surprise; on the other hand, now the passage of time will be marked by the accumulation of occasions without him.
Anyone who knew Karoly was familiar with his characteristic, no-holds-barred honesty. Sometimes he was a little less than diplomatic, but it was also one of his endearing qualities, especially since it potentially saved my life. If not my actual pulse, then certainly at least the content of the life I have now.
When I was 18 and finished with high school, I didn't know what to do next. I didn't own a car and had to borrow my Mom's for my babysitting jobs, which was my only source of income. I decided I wanted to go to college and didn't want to run up a lot of debt in the process, so I called up the local Army recruiting office and told them I wanted to enlist. I filled out all the paperwork, took all the aptitude tests, and was guaranteed a contract to enlist as an Army medic with a pretty generous GI bill for college when I was done. I asked my family for their opinion, feeling pretty confident in my course but wanting feedback. No one, not even my Dad, voiced any objections. All I had to do was take my physical, at the end of which I would sign my enlistment papers. A week before this was supposed to happen we had a family barbecue, which was the first time Karoly had heard about my plans to join the Army. He was livid. "Mom, Dad, I can't believe you haven't told her this is retarded! You can't let Tirzah join the Army!" As it turned out, my family was waiting for Fr. Joseph to talk me out of it and were content to let him be the one to rock the boat. Karoly beat him to it. After hearing my reasons for wanting to enlist, he asked me to wait a while before I made a final decision. Karoly and I weren't close at that point, but I respected his opinion and valued his input, plus he was the only person who told me what he really thought. A few days later he called me. "Will you agree not to join the Army if I give you my car so you can go to school here?"
"Um, heck yes."
"You have to agree not to enlist for at least two years; after that if you still want to be retarded you can."
So I enrolled at Shoreline and felt extremely cool when I pulled into the parking lot in my zippy Nissan Maxima complete with CD player and power everything. And it was mine. I love being from a big family, but when there are nine kids personal ownership is a little hard to come by. Plus I had just been given a car that I never would have been able to afford; talk about putting a spring in my step. I think it was good for me as a teenager to drive my parents' cars, but when you want to look cool it's a little hard to pull off in a giant station wagon with wood paneling. Oh, the punchline: the day I told the Army I wasn't enlisting was a week before 9/11.
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