Last Sunday, Martine and I went to the First Hungarian Reformed Church of Los Angeles in Hawthorne for their annual harvest festival. It was a good opportunity to catch up with L.A.’s Hungarians, who are all spread across the landscape of Southern California. And it was a great opportunity to have some home-cooked Magyar dishes (kolbasz and hurka) and enjoy the energetic dancing of the Kárpátok Hungarian Folk Ensemble (pictured above).
I am always pleasantly surprised to find out how musically talented my people are. (And me with a tin ear!) In addition to the dancing, there are always several musicians playing musical instruments from the accordion to the violin. The small church hall fairly rocked with all the musical acts.
Although I do not belong to the Hungarian Reformed church, my mother did. My Mom and Dad had an agreement between themselves that any sons in the family would be brought up as Catholics, and any daughters as Protestants. Well, it turned out there were only my brother Dan and me. We were both were baptized Catholic and attended Catholic elementary and secondary schools. For some reason, the Hungarian Catholics in L.A. don’t seem to have any festivals—at least, none of which I am aware. As a result, Martine and I usually hang out with the Protestants.
Martine may have been born in France, but she loves Hungarian food and music. And she loves Hungarian pastries. So these few local church events are high points in our year.

Happiness
I asked professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me
what is happiness.
And I went to famous executives who boss the work of
thousands of men.
They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though
I was trying to fool with them.
And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along the
Deplaines river
And I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with their
women and children and a keg of beer and an accordion.
— Carl Sandburg —
from Harvest Poems-
One of my favorite poems, Fred.