Growing Up

Although my birth place was Mladá Boleslav, an industrial city in central Bohemia, the divide of the Jizera Mountains and the hilly Jičín region, I was raised and grew up in my parents’ mill in the village of Chocnĕjovice, post office Mohelnice nad Jizerou. The village is located in the north-northeastern part of Bohemia, between Mnichovo Hradištĕ and Český Dub, neighboring on the most beautiful region of the Czechlands, known as “Česky ráj,” meaning “Czech Paradise.”

Starting in Mnichovo Hradištĕ, the curvy street took you on a winding county road, passing by the power station at Podhnĕvosice and eventually you entered the village of Mohelnice nad Jizerou, where the creek Mohelka ends in the Jizera River. Above the village proper is also Mohelnice Horní (Upper Mohelnice), consisting primarily of a large farm owned by Čenĕk Nezdara. This property was a part, at one time, of a large ancient estate belonging in 1391 to Markvart of Mohelnice, otherwise known as Kus of Lhota.

Continuing along the Mohelka Creek one would pass the small hamlet of Podhora from where you would come to our village of Chocnĕjovice. The village got its name from the landed gentry of Chocnej[1]. There was a fortress here at one time where the ruling family resided. One can actually still find remnants of this fortress on the big rocky formation overlooking the valley under which old rooms used as dwelling and stables by the old family are still in evidence. Chocnĕjovice is one of the oldest villages in the county. In 1322, after the death of Jan of Chocnĕjovice, who left no heirs, the property fell in the hands of Olen and in 1360 to Ješek of Chocnĕjovice. His successor was Mikuláš Kokotek of Penčín and the subsequent owners usually affixed the name of the village to their name. Later proprietors of the Chocnĕjovice fortress became the Lords of Vartemberk and Svinaře, then Roznhan of Janovice, until in 1603 it became the property of the Budovec family.[2] In 1621 it was attached to the Hradištĕ estate which fell in the hands of the Waldstein family..

Leaving Chocnĕjovice, the winding road along the Mohelka Creek takes you to Buřínsko, then Chlistov mill, Podjestřábí hamlet with another mill, Libice and soon after you are in Český Dub. The location of Český Dub is very picturesque as is the entire Mohelka valley. The panoramic view of the Český Dub highlands up to the Jestĕd Hill and the flat lands of the Mohelka Valley, framed on both sides with wooded slopes is incredibly beautiful, especially when the heather is in bloom. Here and there you can detect, among the majestic pine trees, rocky formations as well as some ruins of old castles. The wide lush meadows in the valley, with their rich green color, add romantic charm to the total setting.

The neighboring small villages are scattered throughout the valley, usually about 2 kilometers apart. The closest town is Mnichovo Hradištĕ, seven kilometers from our village, which the local population visited only when they needed to purchase items that were not available locally and this happened only a few times a year.

The overall landscape is a picturesque area, composed of valleys through which the winding creek “Mohelka” with its tributaries flow, covered by green meadows and surrounded by steep ravines and wooded hills. The woods were full of berries, such as wild strawberries, whortleberries, blackberries, raspberries, as well as cranberries. The women and children picked them and then preserved them for later use. The woods also abounded with mushrooms which from our earliest childhood we all learned to recognize and pick.

The region has a typical temperate climate with four distinct seasons. Spring and fall were quite mild and usually beautiful, except when it rained which happened quite frequently. The summers were quite warm, but tolerable because there was hardly any humidity. The most beautiful landscape was in winter when everything was covered with pure white snow.

In the not too far distance from our village one could find ruins of old castles from centuries ago, most of which were destroyed during the Hussite wars. The closest such ruin is in the vicinity of Mohelnice nad Jizerou, where the Mohelka Creek flows into the Jizera River, Zásadka, which is prominently situated on the hill overlooking the valley.

The house in which we lived had the number 22 written on it, although it was located exactly next to the marker where the village started. As one came to our village from the direction of Mnichovo Hradištĕ, one would first cross the Mohelka creek on a narrow bridge, allowing the passage of just one vehicle, and come to a small intersection. The main road bends around our mill on the left and then continues winding along the Mohelka Creek in the direction of Cesky Dub. The other side of the fork would take you up a steep hill, bending around a rocky formation and a wooded area until one reached the center of our village. On the right side of the rocky formation was a deep ravine. Next to the ravine was a country road, used to get to the small country store, just before coming to the center of the village. This was also the way we walked to our school in the neighboring village Drahotice. In wintertime this was of course a fabulous hill for sledding, When I recently visited the village and walked by the deep winding ravine I marveled that none of us kids was ever seriously hurt.

Returning to our mill, across from it on the right side stood a dilapidated log cabin, joined together by dirt and covered with straw. To my amazement, this old structure is still there, forty years later. Immediately next to it was a narrow dirt road which took you to a small cluster of houses in which poorer cottagers lived. As you proceeded on the main road you came to a local pub, where beer was primarily served, adjacent to a blacksmith’s shop which belonged to the same owner. As I recall, they also had a lovely garden with dahlias, peonies and roses. Then came a little house and that was all.

Our residential site could be entered either through a large iron gate, normally reserved for farm vehicles, or through an adjacent small gate. On the left side was a pigpen made of concrete slabs, attached to a wooden barn and a shed, housing several cows, sometimes also a goat and sheep, and a couple of horses. Above the shed was a storage area for hay. On the other side of the yard was a beautiful linden tree in front of which there was usually a big pile of sand which we youngsters used primarily for play and for building large water dams. Immediately next to it was a three-floor building where we lived.

It was an imposing structure with large windows and thick walls painted white. Next to it was the original wooden building of the old mill, made of logs and mortar, interlocked between our living quarters and the new mill which my father built. The old mill, from which the original equipment was removed, was used primarily for storing various flours in big bags on which the sign “MILA”(my father’s nickname) and “Valcový mlýn Miloslava Rechcígla”[3] was prominently printed. As you passed the old mill, you came to a bridge going over our millrace and then entered a backyard, bordered on the left side by a row of sheds containing farm implements, tools and supplies of various sorts, a rack wagon, a lorry, coach and sleigh. Adjacent to the mill was our vegetable garden and next to it stood an old cottage[4] in which our employees slept. Behind it was our orchard with apple trees and a variety of plum trees which extended to our millrace. The yard was enclosed by a tall wire fence and a large gate which led to a big meadow utilized primarily for making hay. We also raised chickens, guinea hens, ducks and even turkeys and also owned a number of fields in the area on which we grew different crops, such as potatoes, sugar beet, wheat, rye, barley, oats, clover, and mustard.

Growing up at a mill is an indescribable experience which only a few of us have been destined to enjoy. The joys and pleasures of those days will remain with me forever. The truthfulness of this statement can be checked against numerous stories and books that have been written by Czech authors, including the classical novel Babička (The Grandmother), written by Božena Nĕmcová,[5] or the series of newspaper articles, later published in a book form, under the title Z českých mlýnů (From Around the Czech Mills), from the pen of a popular journalist Karel Tůma.[6]

In its typical setting, a mill usually occupies the most conspicuous place in a community where farmers and housewives frequently congregate, not only for business, but also to exchange the news, gossip and generally enjoy each other’s company. The place intentionally or unintentionally has thus become the information if not a nerve center of the entire community. Some farmers and other customers came from far distances which elevated the level of discussion beyond the parochial gossip. The best messenger of news was, no doubt, a young journeyman milling-trade helper or apprentice, known as “krajánek” (wanderer), who traveled from mill to mill to gain more experience and, above all , because he loved the “nomadic” life. These types of individuals had all sorts of stories to tell and for a youngster it was sheer delight to be in their company. Some of these journeymen would lead their nomadic life as long as they felt young and adventurous, or until they found a permanent spot they liked.

A miller was considered a prestigious figure in rural hierarchy, the most respectable person in any community, to whom people came for advice and to whose judgment they listened. A miller was considered not only wise but also very knowledgeable. To be able to comprehend the intricacies of the milling trade, the complexity of the milling equipment, with the labyrinth of a wooden chute network, to be able to grind varieties of flours, farina and brans to specified degree of fineness or coarseness, and whiteness, required highly specialized training and knowledge and long-term experience. Because of large differences in the physical properties and overall quality of various cereals, compounded by genetic and regional differences, and influenced by climatic conditions, a miller had to do some “magic” to come up with the final product, which met legal requirements and the customers’ specifications. Just as a railroad foreman who is responsible for directing the passage of a train from one track to another by moving certain levers up and down, a miller has to control the passage of grains or flour through appropriate chutes in order to reach the right machines to carry out the series of specified processing steps to obtain the desired product. A wrong move of a lever by a railroad man can have disastrous results, with the loss of human lives. A miller’s job and responsibility is just as taxing, since a wrong move on his part can ruin a farmer’s whole year’s harvest and thus his livelihood. A miller’s job is definitely much more difficult than that of a railroad foreman because he has to literally manipulate with tens, if not hundreds of levers and make many other mechanical adjustments to accomplish his objectives. As a youngster I was always fascinated by these operations - it was sheer magic.

To learn this technology, an aspiring miller was required to have a highly specialized technical training in special schools, followed by many years of practical experience. Only after mastering the trade and passing the required exams could one obtain an operating license. Apart from technical knowhow, a miller had to also possess mechanical skills in order to make the necessary repairs. He could not afford to shut all operations down and have the mill stay idle, while he was waiting for someone to fix the damaged piece of equipment. He would lose his profit and possibly his customers, as well if he would not deliver the ordered product on time. Furthermore, in those days, they did not have journeymen’s engineers with specialized knowledge of milling equipment who could perform intricate repairs. Also, one could not purchase a spare part in a close by shop, a miller had to make his own.

Certain operations required physical strength; consequently most millers had to be strong and have the right posture and size to be able to perform such tasks. Consequently, a typical miller had an imposing figure, commanding general respect and admiration. It was, of course, not only technical knowledge that was required, a miller had to be skilled in math and knowledgeable of the various accounting procedures, as well as being a good businessman. Although many transactions were based on barter at the local level, i.e., exchange of flour for grain, many transactions required long-term planning, investment and considerable risk taking, particularly when dealing at the wholesale level.

No wonder that a miller was customarily called ”Pán otec” (Father Miller). His son, who was presumed to take over the mill one day, was in turn referred to as ”Mlady pán” (Young Lord). The miller’s wife also played an important role, which is evident from the fact that she was normally addressed “Panimáma” (Mother Miller), rather than by her family name.

To become a miller was not an easy task and only a certain type of individual could master the trade. For this reason the miller profession was usually limited to certain families where the tradition was passed from one generation to the next, usually from father to the oldest son. In our case, I counted at least six consecutive generations of millers. Moreover, in our family it was customary not only to pass on the mill to the oldest son but a father would buy additional mills for his younger sons as well. To be sure, the miller trade was a desirable, and lucrative profession, which gave the miller a steady and guaranteed income, while assuring him of a relatively high standard of living.

The above characteristics put the miller in a special place in the community. He was considered the smartest and the wisest man around, to whom people came whenever they needed advice or counsel. It is therefore not surprising that millers were frequently put in the positions of public trust, such as being elected mayors of their communities. In this regard, my father, who among other things played a significant role in the Farmers’ Party, was elected the youngest member of the Czechoslovak Parliament.

There were, of course, other important people in the mill besides the miller who was the owner of a leaseholder of the enterprise. Based on the hierarchy, the second most important individual was the mill’s foreman, for whom the Czechs invented a wonderful term “stárek” which stands for an “elder”. He was usually assisted by one or more young men, known as “mládek” meaning a young fellow, who had the necessary technical training and who was capable of working almost independently, under the “stárek’s general supervision. The lowest person on the totem pole was an apprentice, appropriately called “prášek” (a dust boy), meaning a person who does the dusting and cleaning. He did not really do much more nor was he capable of doing more. From time to time, the technical staff was augmented somewhat by the journeymen, discussed earlier.

Most people who spend their summer vacations at a sea shore speak fondly of the soothing effect of the background sound generated by the moving waves of the ocean, especially during the time of high and low tides. This phenomenon has been actually commercially utilized in producing records and tapes of ocean sounds to comfort infants and put them to sleep. Some people believe that the ocean sounds may mimic the environment in which the embryos lived for nine months before being brought to this world.

Those of us who have grown up in the vicinity of a mill can testify that they enjoyed similar experiences with the unique sounds coming from the mill. The persistent gentle soft humming of the water turbine, together with the rotatory almost silent movement of leather belts, and the vibration generated by some machinery, produces an incredible feeling, something like the touch of velvet, which seems to take-away stress and liberate one’s mind from bad thought.

Every year there were two important events at the mill to which I always looked forward. In summer time we closed the floodgates (“stavidla”), stopping the water flow through our brook outlet in order to remove the debris which had accumulated in the brook during the year. This was always an occasion to catch fish under the water turbine, which was otherwise not accessible when it was in operation. For this purpose we used special fish nets, and flashlights to attract the fish, not so much to see one’s way but rather to attract the fish. The caught fish would then be placed in our big bathtub filled with water. In addition, we would also make a “hunt” on eels which normally congregated around the floodgates. My mother would then marinate them in vinegar or cream sauce and preserve them in glass bottles. I know of no other delicacies that would equal my mother’s marinated eels.

An equally exiting event took place in winter. In mid December my mother would assemble a group of elderly women who would come to our house every evening to pluck the goose feathers (“drát peří”) from which my mother made “peřina” (a comforter stuffed with feathers). For us small children, this was lots of fun because this would be an opportunity to blow and scatter the feathers all around the room, to the consternation of my mother. We also loved to listen to all the gossip these women brought which gave us a new perspective on life. When they completed their job it was customary to make a big dinner (“dodránek”) for all the participants and give everybody a basket of goodies which my mother prepared.

This chapter would not be complete if we would not say a few words about legends and fairy tales with which the environments of Czech mills abound. The most noted among them are the make believe stories about the watermen and water-sprites for which the Czechs invented names like “hastrman” or “vodník” whose sounds alone give scary impressions and bring fear. There was a general belief among us young folks, that these scary green creatures, clothed in green tuxes or tails, live in the deepest part of the river, or under the water wheel or around the water lock, where they were waiting for the innocent person to fall in and drown. There were people who would swear that they saw his place under water where he kept human souls stored in upside down cups. There were many other stories which generated lots of talk and awe.

As far as I was able to ascertain in the Czech archives, our family name has been spelled in various ways, depending on who entered the name in the church registrar. In the 19th century it was usually spelled "Rechziegel," later on the name assumed a more Czech appearance, i.e., "Rechcígl." In addition, I found other spellings, such as Rechcigel, Rechcygl, Rechtziegel, Rekcigel, or Reckziegel but cannot say with certainty whether or not all these families are related to ours. Because of the unusual nature of the name, my guess is that we may be related if we would go far enough into back generations.

The origin of the family name “Rechcígl“is not known. It may be based on German words "Recht," meaning "law” or “right " or "Reck," meaning a "crossbar," and “Siegel,” meaning a “seal” or "Ziegel," meaning a "brick." If one were to look for some meaning, the only combination that would make some sense is “Rechtsiegel” which could stand for some legal seal or a person with an authority. Phonetically, the Czech pronunciation of the word “Rechtsiegel” would be actually indistinguishable from the word “Rechcígl.” This could be transliterated in English as “Rekhtseegl.” For easier pronunciation, most Americans pronounce our name as “Rex Eagle.”

In spite of our German sounding family name, all our ancestors were genuine Czechs and all the entries in the church registrars I have been able to examine were written in the Czech language. I have not found any German connection yet and among my contemporaries I am not aware of a single member of our family who could actually boast of his or her knowledge of the German language.

Our most immediate family comes from the Mohelka Valley in the north- northeastern part of Bohemia, neighboring on the most beautiful region of Bohemia, appropriately called "Česky ráj,” meaning "Czech Paradise." Our earliest known ancestor František Rechziegel lived in Slavíkov from which the family spread southward along the Mohelka River and settled in the following villages: Třtí, Žďárek, Trávníček, Radostín, Hodkovice, Letařovice, and Chocnĕjovice. Some family members moved even further inland, i.e., Malá Bĕlá and Šárovcova Lhota.

All the Rechcígls in the Mohelka Valley, by tradition, were flour millers. Actually, if you were to drive along the Mohelka River, just about every mill you would find belonged to some branch of the Rechcígl family. The mill was usually inherited by the oldest son. However, among Rechcígls, it was traditional for a father to purchase mills for his other sons as well.

A name resembling our name appeared in Bohemia already in the midst of 17th century. In the recently published survey of inhabitants of the Mladá Boleslav Region[7] in 1651, there is a reference to one Matĕj Rekcigel, a farmer by profession, age 28, and his wife Sybila, age 34, from the village magistrate Kokonín ("Rychta Kukonská"), in the Jablonec n/Nisou District.. They also list their children: Anna, age 19, Krystof, age 17, Jiřík, age 12, Jan, age 9, and Justyna, age 7. The same publication lists under the village magistrate Snĕhov ("Rychta Snĕhovská"), in the village Malá Skála, also in the Jablonec n/Nisou District, Jiřík Rekcigel and his wife Mariana, Krystof Rekcigel and his wife Sybila, Wolf Rekcigel and his wife Anna, and Krystof Rekcigel and his wife Lidmila. Whether these Rekcigels are ancestors of our family could not be determined.

Inasmuch as the river Mohelka springs from the vicinity of Kokonín, and most of my ancestors had their mill in the Mohelka valley, my guess is that the above Reckzigels were probably our ancestors. I have not as yet been able to make any connection with them, however. Similarly, I haven’t been able to link with another Rechziegel family of Turnov, nor with that of Mlčechvosty, near Mĕlník. There is a good chance that we are all linked together by common ancestry in Kokonín or Snĕhov. I also came across a rather extensive family clan that spelled their surname as “Reckziegel” in and around Jablonec nad Nisou, especially in the community of Janov nad Nisou. This particular family was, however, German-oriented, in contrast to all other Rechziegel/ Rechcigel/Rechcigl families, mentioned above, that were all Czech.

My oldest ancestor on my father’s side, František Rechziegel, as the name was originally spelled, lived in Slavíkov in the house No. 4, where he also had his mill. When he died on April 19, 1835, he was 95 years old, which would mean that he was born in 1741. Apart from the fact that he was a miller, we don’t know much about him. With his wife Alžbĕta, nee Boehmanová, from nearby Vlastibořice, he had a son František, born in Slavíkov on December 26, 1789 and died on August 2, 1849. The latter married Ludmila Neumannová, the daughter of Václav Neumann and Ludmila, nee Najmanová. All known Rechcígls that related to us have descended from this couple. I have not yet been able to ascertain whether Frantisek Rechziegel Sr. had any other offspring, or siblings.

František Rechziegel, Jr. had a large number of children; my count indicates fourteen, many of whom died at a young age. Two sons, Petr and Antonín had children whose descendants have carried the Rechcígl name to date. František’s oldest son Josef became a Catholic priest. Two daughters, Josefa and Theresia, married and also had families.

My line comes from Petr Rechziegel, mentioned above, who was married at least twice. According to some documents, he had four children with one Františka Dedková but this information is incorrect. They were conceived by Františka Hlavatá who was unmarried at that time. Peter later (1850) married her and legalized his relationship to the four children and accepted them as his own. He had two more children with Františka Hlavatá but there is little information on their fate or their descendants. When Petr’s wife drowned in Mohelka Creek, he married Kateřina Hošková who bore him one more son.

Petr’s oldest son, also named Petr, was my great-grandfather, who owned a mill in Letařovice. He married Anna, also nee Najmanová, with whom he had eight children, seven sons and one daughter. Most of his sons became millers, just like their ancestors. His second-born son Adolf, my grandfather, born on August 21, 1876, purchased a mill in Chocnĕjovice where he then moved. He first married Marie Berglová, the daughter of František Bergl and his wife Marie, nee Mařanová, of Drahotice, with whom he had two children, a son, my father Miloslav, and a daughter Anna. After the premature death of his first wife in 1917, he married as his second wife Marie Ferklová of Chocnĕjovive with whom he had two more sons, Adolf and Stanislav.

On my mother’s side, I was able to trace my roots up to the turn of the 18th and 19th century, when my oldest known ancestor Václav Rajtr was born. The family name “Rajtr” is most likely of German origin. It is probably related to the Czech word “rajtovat” which stands for “horse-back riding” or to the word “rajter” which refers to a “cavalryman.”

The Rajtr family came originally from Zvířetice, near Bakov, Mnichovo Hradištĕ District. The entire Rajtr family was of peasant or farmer stock. Grandfather Čenĕk Rajtr was an industrious and prosperous man who had the reputation, not only as an excellent farmer but also as an expert tree breeder. His tree nursery belonged to the best in the county. In addition, he was also an avid beekeeper.

Václav Rajtr, who lived in Zvířetice No.11, married Dorota Strojcová. Their son Václav had with his wife Barbora Koštejnová four children of whom two died soon after they were born. The remaining son Jan Václav Rajtr took for his wife Anna Najmannová of Dolánky where he then moved. They had five children. The third-born Vincenc, who later changed his name to Čenĕk, was my grandfather. The latter married Marie, nee Dandová of Hoškovice, who bore him three children, one son Oldřich and daughters Marie, my mother, and another daughter Marta.

My grandfather’ sister Anna married Václav Brzobohatý with whom she lived in Mužský, Mnichovo Hradištĕ District. Grandfather’s younger brother Rudolf Rajtr also moved to Mužský where he married Božena Maďerová. Grandfather’s youngest brother Josef married Františka Kobosilová with whom he lived in Přepeře, Turnov District.

My grandmother Marie Rajtrová, nee Dandová, came from a large family in Hoškovice, Mnichovo Hradištĕ District. They were all well to do farmers or cottagers. The oldest ancestor on her side, I know about, was Josef Danda, born around 1790, who married Barbora Buriánková. They had two sons, František and Josef.

My grandmother descended from František and his wife Kateřina Nováková. They had several children, including Frsntišek Antonín Danda who took as his wife Josefa Cimrová. They had a large family, among them Marie Dandová, my grandmother. I have been able to amass quite a large amount of genealogical data on both the Rajtr and the Danda families.

From what I could see, my parents were not like the other people and clearly differed from the parents of my friends. While in most families, mothers, fathers and kids would all eat, work, and play together, our house seemed somewhat disjointed, primarily because of my father’s dual life and his obsession with politics. Frankly, in my early youth, I hardly knew him and my relationship to him was based more on respect than on affection. It was only later, when we lived together in exile that I got closer to him and became familiar with his unusual qualities as father and human being.

My father, whose name is exactly the same as mine, Miloslav, was born in the small village Chocnĕjovice in his parents’ mill on May 13, 1904. The mill in which he was born used to be part of a large estate of Václav Budovec of Budov, which was confiscated following the tragic defeat of Bohemian Estates at the Battle of White Mountain. Considered a dangerous rebel, Václav Budovec was beheaded, together with 26 other Czech noblemen, at the staged mass execution on the Old Town Square in Prague, on June 21, 1621.

Since birth, my dad was of frail health with recurrent problems that remained with him throughout his life. For as long as I remember, he was always on pills and going from one medical examination to another. He must have suffered much of the time although at times the thought entered my mind that some of his problems were psychosomatic. Because of this, I have gradually developed a personal dislike to most doctors and refuse to take any medication except aspirin.

From 1910-1915, he attended the elementary school in Drahotice, and in the next four years, high school in Mnichovo Hradištĕ.

In 1917, at the age of thirteen, my father lost his beloved mother, Marie nee Berglová. His younger sister Anna was only eleven. This must have been an extremely difficult period for both of them. Their widowed father, my grandfather Adolf, found it necessary to remarry because he could not manage the affairs of the mill without a wife, particularly with two small children.

One year later, in 1918, my Dad’s father married his second wife Marie Ferklová. Based on what my mother told me, the second marriage was a mixed blessing, at least as far as my father and his sister were concerned. There was apparently no love lost between the children and their new stepmother. My dad was naturally anxious to get on his own feet as soon as possible - to get out of her sight. It is my understanding that he would have liked to study law but his parents would not hear of it. Instead, in 1918, he enrolled at the Prague Commercial College (“Obchodní akademie”), which he completed in 1922 with the final “Maturity Examination.” He aspired higher and therefore he simultaneously attended economic lectures at the Prague University of Commerce (“Vysoká škola obchodní”), particularly those of the renowned Professor Macek.

After graduation, he returned to his native village and for a time commuted to Cesky Dub where he worked in the local bank (from the middle of 1922 till 1924)[8] . In 1924 or 1926 he took over the management[9] of his father’s mill in Chocnĕjovice, at the young age of 20 or 22. The latter year was also the year when his sister Anna unexpectedly died, at the youthful age of 20, which was a terrible blow to him since they were very close. In the meantime, my grandfather Adolf bought himself another mill in Šarovcova Lhota, a fair distance from Chocnĕjovice, where he then moved with his wife and the two small children who were born to them, Adolf and Stanislav. In 1928, at the age of twenty-four, Dad with my Mom purchased the Chocnĕjovice mill from his father.

Clearly, Dad must have been the most educated person in the village, and since his earliest youth he developed a keen interest in public affairs. While studying at the Prague Commercial Academy, he assumed responsibility for the school library, and after returning home, he was made chairman of a public library in his village. In Prague, he was involved in the organization of the agrarian students and later in various organizations of agrarian youth in the county and other organizations of the Agrarian Party[10]. At the age of twenty-six, he was elected chairman of the County organization of the Party and two years later, a member of the board of the Party’s Regional organization.

At the same time, Dad started working in various professional milling organizations. In the period 1930-1934 he held the position of Executive Secretary[11] in the “Sdružení obchodních mlýnů v Čechách” (Alliance of Commercial Mills in Bohemia) which later changed its name to “Mlynářské družstvo” (Millers’ Cooperative). In 1934 he became Deputy Director[12] of “Mlynářské družstvo ČSR” (Czechoslovak Millers’ Cooperative) and held the position until 1942, when the Cooperative was abolished.

In the 1935 elections, he was nominated as the Agrarian Party’s candidate for the office

of “poslanec” (Member of National Assembly[13]) for the Mladá Boleslav District. In 1935, at the age of 31, he was elected as the youngest member to the Czechoslovak National Assembly.[14] [15] I was then five years old.

Being the youngest member of the Assembly, he was assigned lots of responsibilities and had to attend numerous meetings and give many speeches. I was told, these could have run to hundreds, if not more. Some were printed in the Stenographic Records of the National Assembly and others in various local newspapers as well as in the Party’s organs. In the Parliament he focused on economic issues and problems. He was a member of a number of House committees, including agriculture, commerce, and foreign affairs. As if these responsibilities were not enough, in 1938, Dad became the chief executive officer of “Mlynářské sdružení” (Millers’ Cooperative), and remained in that capacity until 1942, when the Cooperative ceased to exist.

Constant presence was required by Dad in Prague, the country’s capital, at least during the time when the National Assembly was in session. The distance from our village was a good half-day away when traveling by bike or coach and then by train. He therefore rented a nice apartment in the Vinohrady section of Prague, on the street called “Na Smetánce.” He would stay in Prague for most of the week, coming home only on weekends. But even when he was at home, he would devote most of his time to the affairs of our mill, meetings with his constituents, attending political meetings and generally helping the farmers solve their problems. Consequently, we saw little of him.

My father’s hectic pace continued throughout his full four-year term (1935-39) at the National Assembly. His political activities led him, of course, to many other responsibilities, including being a member of the executive board of the Czechoslovak National Council and the Czechoslovak Agricultural Council. In addition, he served in various other capacities on a number of agricultural, business and cultural organizations. Short biographical sketches of my Father appear in Ottův slovník naučný Nové doby,[16] Československý biografický slovník,[17] Český biofrafický slovník XX. století[18] and Mladoboleslavsko v promĕnách času.[19]

Since my father spent most of his time in Prague, the mill was managed, during his absence, by his old classmate Filip, whose main function was the mill accounting. The household, including the farm work, was, in turn, the responsibility of my mother who took the job seriously and managed the affairs with an iron hand.

My mother was born as Marie Rajtrová and raised on her parents’ farm in Dolánky. She met my father at some local dance. That’s just about all I know about their romance. His future father-in-law, Čenĕk Rajtr, was rather a difficult character, so I can well imagine that their courtship must have been difficult, not to speak about the steps that eventually led to their marriage. By the time they got married, on July 26, 1926, Mom was twenty-one and Dad twenty-two, a pretty young age by Czechoslovak standards. By then, Dad was already managing the Chocnĕovice mill, while his father with his new family moved to Šárovcova Lhota.

It is my understanding, at least, initially, my mother was actively involved in helping manage the affairs of the mill. During my time she was primarily managing our household and supervised our small farm and the field work. Although she usually had several servants, one who helped around the kitchen and others on the farm, she did most of the cooking for the entire household by herself. In addition to our own family, this included a coachman, two or three servants, two to three employees of the mill, and an accountant, a total of some nine or ten people. We frequently had additional seasonal or part-time help, as well as other visitors, which brought the number even higher. We had a huge table in the kitchen, around which we sat, irrespective of anybody’s “rank”. Since we could not always all fit in, we took turns eating.

My mother was a marvelous cook and I still treasure the times we all sat around the kitchen table, enjoying her scrumptious meals and listening to the lively conversation. My mother spent a great deal of time preserving fruits and vegetables, in quantities to last us through the winter months.

Although she did not have formal education beyond high school, my mother was an intelligent person who bettered herself constantly through self-education. She was an avid reader and knew the Czech classics practically by heart. I thank her more than anybody else for ingraining the love for reading in me. She also loved to attend the theatrical productions given locally by various amateur drama groups.

Mother was very knowledgeable of the Czech past and could recite in detail specific events and milestones in Czech history. She was a true patriot and loved to tell me about the Czech heroes and other important personalities. Her admiration and love for the Czech nation and culture was contagious and I clearly caught the “bug” from her.

She read newspapers regularly and was well-informed on what went on locally, as well as internationally. During the war she regularly listened to foreign broadcasts and attentively followed the military advances of the Allied troops against Nazi Germany. Such activity was of course strictly forbidden and those who were caught were severely punished.

My entire upbringing was strictly in her hands. Although she was strict with me when I misbehaved, she was extremely kind to us children. She usually called me "Miloušek." which is a diminutive for Miloslav, which she continued to call me even when I got older and started disliking it, because it sounded sissyish to me. However, I always tolerated it when it came from her, because it reflected her love and affection for me.

As surprising at it may seem, I do not know with certainty the exact date of my birth. All the official documents in my possession unambiguously state that I was born on July 30, 1930. According to my mother, I was presumably born a day later, i.e. on July 31. She blamed a careless priest for making a wrong entry in the church register. I remember that at one time I was actually issued two distinct birth certificates, one July 30th and another July 31st. On the advice of my parents I later destroyed the latter certificate because it would create unnecessary problems for me, because by then the 30th was recognized as my official date of birth.

On the occasion of my 40th birthday, my father sent me a beautiful congratulatory letter[20] in which he reminisced about the day I was born. I am reproducing excerpts from that letter since it really represents the earliest news relating to me:

I Have a Son

It seems as if it were only yesterday, when I experienced the most joyous moment of my life. I do recall that great moment in Mladá Boleslav[21] when in the convulsion of happiness I spontaneously hugged the doctor who came to tell me that I have a son. Soon after when I arrived with the big news in our village of Chocnějovice I found that at our mill everything seemed so quiet, it was actually silent. The mill was not in operation since the machinery was undergoing an annual cleanup. The mill-race that normally brought water to the turbine was empty to get the weir[22] ready for the next season. People worked on the foundation of a new mill which I started at that time. In the fields, work had just begun on harvesting.

When I told the folks about my joy, they all congratulated me and I think it was sincere.. Our crew immediately opened the gate to fill the mill-race with water so that the turbine could symbolically be started to turn on all the mill machinery, as had been the custom in Czech mills when the first miller’s son was born. Bricklayers, carpenters, construction workers, just as people in the fields, interrupted their work so that they could celebrate. Three barrels of beer were brought to our yard and everybody drank to your health and success in life. They assumed, of course, that you would live in Chocnějovice with them and their children. In the evening your birth was celebrated by the entire village in both pubs. Although I do not know how much beer and food was consumed, if the length of you life were measured by that you would most certainly live to over hundred. If personal accomplishments were to depend on it you would be swamped.

One local poet composed a new song for the occasion, from which I remember only an excerpt:

“...the miller will look for the crib and diapers all over,

and will invite friends to come over

to witness how his new born son is baptized.

Oh’ how everything will be so nice...”

Perhaps I will remember the rest so that you will know the entire song.

As my birth certificate states, my arrival in the world was officially recorded as follows:

Czechoslovak Republic Diocese Litoměřice

Birth and Baptism Certificate[23]

Baptism Register of the village of Chocnějovice, Mnichovo Hradiště District

Register beginning with year 1929, Page 138

Name and Surname Miloslav Rechcígl

Date, month and year of birth July 30, 1930

Date, month and year of baptism August 17, 1930

Birth place Mladá Boleslav No. 447 - II District office Mnichovo Hradiště

Religion Roman-Catholic Gender male Origin legitimate

Father Miloslav Rechcígl, Catholic, miller in Chocnějovice, born there,

son of Adolf Rechcígl, miller of Chocnějovice and mother Marie, nee Berglová

of Drahotice, District Mnichovo Hradiště

Mother Marie Rechcíglová, Catholic, born in Dolánky, daughter of Čeněk Rajtr, farmer of Dolánky and mother Marie Dandová of Hoškovice, District Mnichovo Hradiště

Name of baptist Alois Novák, parish priest of Loukovec

Godfather - Godmother - Witness Adolf Rechcígl, Marie Rechcíglová

Midwife Josefa Silná, certified, local

My own first images of my childhood are rather blurred. The earliest event which remains in my mind was the birth of my sister Marta, or Martička, as everybody called her. It might have been the occasion of her christening, since I have some recollection of a horse and carriage which would have taken her and my parents to church. I was only three years old.

In his younger days, Dad used to ride a motorcycle, which abruptly ended in 1934 after his life threatening accident. After being hit by a car, he was knocked down and run over. Although I was only four years old or less, I do remember my father helplessly lying in bed during his long recuperation.[24]

I also distinctly remember when my uncle on my mother's side, Olda Rajtr, used to carry me on his shoulders and called me "Halama," which was an expression used in the country for a tough young kid. He died in November 1937, which would make me about seven years old. I spent an awful lot of time in those days visiting my grandparents in Dolanky which I languidly enjoyed.

One event which has clearly remained in my memory was the funeral of Thomas G. Masaryk, the first President of Czechoslovakia, who died on September 14, 1937. Dad took us with him to Prague to witness that unforgettable day. I still clearly remember the solemn funeral procession of mourners, the heads of states and other dignitaries, marching soldiers and legionnaires proudly exhibiting their heroic medals on their chests, and above all, the beautiful white horses, blanketed in black, pulling the casket covered with the national flag. The whole procession walked rather slowly to the beat of drums. We saw it all from the balcony of one of the buildings on "Vaclavske namesti" (Wenceslaus Square). It distinctly made a big impression on me.

Another significant event which made a lasting imprint on me and which I still vividly recall, was the time when Dad sent us, i.e. my sister and me, to Slovakia during the mobilization of the Czechoslovak army at the outbreak of the World War II. Dad thought that we would be safer in rural Slovakia than in the industrial Bohemia. We were driven by a hired chauffeur and accompanied by our aunt, my mother's sister Marta. We drove quickly, but not to arouse suspicion, mostly at night. I remember stopping once or twice for food and rested in the homes of some of my father's friends. Because of the circumstances under which we were traveling, we sensed the tension and excitement in the air and viewed the whole thing as a big adventure. Our destination was the renowned Slovak spa Vysnie Ruzbachy, hidden in the Tatra Mountains. It was a beautiful place with a large swimming pool which made an instantaneous impression on me. Under our aunt's supervision, we had a real good time there. I do not know for sure how long we stayed there but it could not have been more than few weeks.

On September 29, 1938, following the signing of the humiliating Munich Agreement,[25] the Czechs were forced to relinquish part of their territory to Germany, while the Slovaks declared their "autonomy" under Hitler's protection. Staying in Slovakia under these conditions would have exposed us to more danger than had we remained in the Czechlands. Dad, therefore, arranged for our immediate and safe return back home. The return trip was more tense and probably more dangerous than the trip to Slovakia. Our driver used the back roads to avoid meeting the Fascist Hlinka Guards who terrorized the local population and were arch enemies of all Czechs.

If I were to characterize my upbringing in a few words, I would have to use terms like caring and kind as well as respectful and strict. Being a miller’s son, I realized at an early age that somehow I was different from the other kids in our community and that I had a privilege status. As I became older, the thought began to bother me. In the first place, I did not want to be different from the others and wanted to be like everybody else. Secondly, I did not feel right being given special privileges. Apart from my instinctive feeling of unfairness, I soon realized that my privileged position put me into an awkward situation because it caused envy among my friends and everybody always had high expectations of me, both in terms of my achievements as well as what I should be able to do for others.

This created in me the desire to be modest, and avoid bragging at any cost, an attitude which stayed with me throughout my life. Although my loving parents surrounded me with all sorts of toys and gifts, especially at Christmas time, I did not really care for them and often gave them away. The only gifts that seemed to give me pleasure were books which I would immediately read. I was an avid reader who stayed up late into the night reading until I finished the book. I particularly loved adventure stories and as most kids I mastered all the children’s classics, such us Julius Verne or Karl May. Of course, my mother also led me to read Czech classics such as Alois Jirásek, Božena Nĕmcová, Alois Václav Rais, Jan Neruda, Eliška Krasnohorská, Svatopluk Čech and many others. As we were growing up, it was not as customary as it is now to go to a public library. Most well-to-do families had a library of their own.

In other respects, I was, however, the same as all the other kids in our village. I liked to play outside, climbing rocks and trees, playing soldiers, building sand castles, picking wild berries, “stealing” cherries from neighbors’ gardens, and all the other things kids normally do. In summer time we played volleyball and spent a lot of time around our brook Mohelka which propelled our mill turbine. In winter time, we participated in all the winter sports, i.e., sledding, skating and skiing.

Ever since Dad decided to modernize our mill, or better said to build a new mill next to the original old structure, I spent every free moment with the workers on the construction site, helping them mix cement or raising scaffolding and putting up the wooden floors and the roof. I enjoyed sitting at great heights above the ground and hammering away into boards and logs, following the instructions of the skilled artisans and craftsmen. Interestingly enough, in spite of this early physical experience, later in my life I lost all interest in anything mechanical and lost all my mechanical skills I had picked up in my youth. In fact, I consider myself completely a “levej” (left-handed, meaning clumsy), as the Czechs say.

Our yard was always covered with all sorts of construction material, such as piles of sand, boards, iron bars, roofing material, etc., which provided a splendid opportunity for playing. I loved to construct my own cabins made of wood and sheet-metal or make lacquers and other concoctions of different colors and store them in glass bottles of various shapes and forms. Understandingly, this environment brought lots of pleasure to me as well as to all my friends. I always had a friend around and definitely did not consider myself a loner. If alone, I most likely read a book, while lying on a blanket in the meadow.

As far as I recall, I was always surrounded by love and kindness. My parents gave me almost anything I wanted, “přinést modré z nebe” (bring the blue from the sky), as the Czech saying goes. Domestics, as well as all the other mill employees, were always courteous to me, as well as the hundreds of customers and visitors who came to our house or the mill.

From my earliest childhood I was taught the difference between right and wrong, to be courteous and kind to others, to be respectful of others, especially older people and to be helpful. As for myself, I had a friendly disposition and was considered humorous and even funny which gained me immediate friendship. At the same time, I must have been a “rošťák” (mischievous kid) and “uličník”( rascal) which brought the frequent comment “Až dostaneš rozum, Ty si ale ulevíš”, meaning “Once you’ll get brains, you will feel much better.”

I must have gotten into situations that called for punishment. Since my father was not there, my mother had to play the role of the chief “executioner”. She would punish me for every misdeed, usually with the use of an omnipresent bamboo stick which I always tried to hide from her. Although most of these punishments were clearly deserved, there were occasions when I felt I was unfairly punished for things my sister might have done. Being older and bigger than she, my mother assumed that I must have been the guilty party because it was unthinkable that the cute, always innocent looking sweet girl could possibly be the culprit.

I do not recall my father’s punishments. The only time I remember him getting very mad was an incident in which two friends of mine and I thought that it might be fun if we would set old brooms on fire and then run with them through our backyard, ending in our cellar, which was normally rather dark. I do not know whether we were actually caught during the crime or whether someone reported it to my father, but I certainly remember being called to his office and when he slapped me across my face and gave me a sermon on the dangers of fire.

As mentioned elsewhere, my father was rarely home and even when he was, he had very little time for me. He would not go fishing with me, as most American dads seem to do these days, nor to participate in any sports with me. We of course did not have baseball when I was growing up, but more importantly, my father was not the sport type, partly because of his illnesses. The only thing we did do together was to bike to the neighboring town Mnichovo Hradištĕ or to do a little sightseeing of the close-by castles. This however was not frequent.

Although money was no object in our household, I was brought up very conservatively with respect to finances. I always seemed to have a piggy bank in which I deposited all the coins that I would receive from relatives or friends. When the piggy bank was full, my father would take it to the city bank and put it in my very own savings account. I do not believe that I ever received any spending money. After all, how could one possibly spend money in a small village?

Nevertheless, I must have had at least some coins with me because I recall several incidents during which I was threatened by a bully classmate in our village who demanded that I give him my money or otherwise he would beat me up.

With reference to my religious beliefs, I was brought up as a Catholic but only as a nominal one. This came about primarily because my parents did not attend church services regularly and the environment in which we lived. Although there was a church in our community, services were held only on rare occasions, being limited for the most part to our annual community fairs and occasional funerals. Only on All Souls Day, every November, do I remember going to church to light candles on our family grave. The only important religious event my father took rather seriously was the time of my confirmation. He found a bishop to be my godfather and I was given the name “Jan Křtitel” (John Baptist) on that occasion. My godfather-bishop gave me a statuette of Jesus affixed to a picture frame which now hangs in the living room of one of my nieces in Jablonec.

Be that as it may, I must have received some religious training in elementary school since it was one of the required subjects. Later, when I attended the gymnasium, most of my best friends were practicing Catholics and I used to go with them to the parish church on Sundays, and even took part in the ministering, on a few occasions. My prodigious reading of history, particularly with reference to various atrocities that were committed in the name of the Church, such as the burning of Bohemian martyr Jan Hus, instigated in me a somewhat antagonistic stand towards organized Church. In time I have developed tolerance for most religions.

From my earliest childhood I was brought up to respect others and especially my parents. It never would occur to me to say “No” to my parents nor to disobey any of their wishes. Their word was final and that was that. Similarly, I was brought up to always speak the truth, irrespective of the consequence. As noted above, I did not always behave as an “angel”. I was a normal kid, like any other, and participated in all the pranks to the fullest.

Another attribute promoted by my parents was the need to work. I was constantly encouraged to do something useful, often for public good. They never tolerated idleness. I had a good example in my mother who worked exceedingly hard all her life, as did my father, and all my relatives whom I knew. Hard work, bordering on “workaholism”[26] was apparently ingrained in our family genes and traits. These traits are clearly discernible even among my two children, Jack and Karen, as they are in me.

Last but not least, my parents created in me a sense of patriotism and the love for our Czech homeland My wife Eva often kids, “Co je české to je hezké” (What’s Czech that’s nice”) but this is not too far from what I was brought up to believe. My mother was particularly keen on bringing me up in a patriotic spirit. It was through her influence that I became familiar with the heroes of Czech history, including such personalities as Přemysl Otakar, Charles IV, Jan Hus, Jan Žižka, George of Podĕbrady, Jan Amos Komenský (Comenius), Ladislav Čelakovský, Josef K. Tyl,Thomas G. Masaryk, to mention a few. My feelings later were reinforced by prodigious reading which greatly contributed to my personality.

As I look at my upbringing from a distance, it seems that my innermost human and family values came from the people among whose midst I grew up, i.e. primarily my mother, my grandmother, my aunt and all the kind folks around me - the simple country folks, without much education, but with a keen common sense. From my father I gained the sense for public duty, public trust, responsibilities of citizenship, respect for education. In comparison with American kids, I obviously was not exposed to the family togetherness, which is so typical of American life, but on the other hand, I received a much better overall upbringing with all the necessary values, which prepared me to face various challenges and problems the people must face.

When compared to a typical American primary school, our elementary school was quite unique. It was housed in a small house, containing a single classroom, with an adjacent small living quarter for the teacher. There was only one teacher. We had no gym nor a sports field. There was just a small school yard where we did some calisthenics.[27]

I spent five years of my primary education in a school like that, generally known as “jednotridka” (one room schoolhouse). The first year I sat in the first row, the second year in the second row, and so forth, completing my final year in the fifth row. As I recall, there were about 25-30 pupils, altogether. In retrospect, it is a real puzzle to me now how the teacher managed it. The fact is, that at the end of five years I learned my basic 3 Rs, i.e. reading, writing, and arithmetic.

Our school was located in the neighboring village Drahotice, which was about 2 kilometers from our mill. There were no school buses then, so we had to walk the distance. As our mill was located below in the valley, I had the longest walk. I had to first climb a steep hill on a country road, leading across rocks and adjacent to a deep ravine which, during the rain, was filled with clayey water. The road took me to the center of our village from which it was a relatively easy walk to the village Drahotice since it was mostly on level ground. In the winter, which lasted three to four months, it was a bit more difficult because the road was completely covered with snow and there were no snowploughs to clear the roads. Despite the severity of the weather I don’t recall missing a single day of school because of bad weather.

My first teacher at the school was Mr. Laurin who was later replaced by Josef Falta. In addition to the usual curriculum, we also received regular lessons in catechism by one of the local priests who came to school for that purpose. I still remember our first school textbook, a slender publication with color pictures, entitled Poupata[28] (Flower buds), from which we learned to read. I also remember another text which was used in catechism.

Of my classmates I remember best those who came from our village, namely Stana Adam, Vláďa Filip, Vlasta Knéblová, Miluše Korychová, Milouš Ajchler and Jindra Ajchlerová. From other villages I remember Zdeněk and Vratislav Sedláčcek, and Jaroslav Mařan. They all lived in Sovinky. One of my girl classmates, whose name escapes me, wore a prosthesis after she lost part of her legs during a farm accident.[29]

There was never any rowdiness in our school since any kind of disorder was not tolerated. A pupil who disobeyed was disciplined. Standing in a corner or a slap with a bamboo stick over the palm of a hand was the usual routine, in such cases.

The only things I vividly remember from my early school years were two occasions. One was when we were given a reading assignment and I finished first. In fact, I was so fast that the teacher was surprised. This was because I learned to read early on and read a lot.

Since we lived in war time in the last two years of school, I also recall that we were obligated to collect the herbaceous plant “Vlastovičník obecný” - Chelidonium majus L. - which was used for pharmaceutical purposes.[30] The plant grew wild alongside the roads. We also were made to bring old newspapers and iron.

Another event that comes to mind was the occasion when an elderly fellow came to our school to tell us about his experiences in America where he lived for some years and later returned to his village of Drahotice. He brought with him all sorts of memorabilia he saved from his stay in the US which made a big impression on the entire class. Who would have thought that one day I would end up in the US myself.

One of my mother’s characteristics was her frequent use and reference to Czech proverbs and old folk sayings. You may say, what’s so unusual about proverbs, every nation uses them. The fact is, after living over 50 years in the US, I have not experienced this phenomenon except when talking to someone in a particular ethnic group.

It is true that proverbs are being used throughout the world, particularly among the Slavic people. And it is also true that a number of proverbs used in Bohemia, Moravia and, for that matter, also in Slovakia, are similar to those used in other countries. For example the following English proverbs are almost verbatim translations of Czech proverbs:

No news is good news - Žádná zpráva je dobrá zpráva

The more, the better - Čím víc, tím líp

Walls have ears - Stĕny mají uši

Man proposes. God disposes - Človĕk míní, Pánbuh mĕní

There’s no place like home - Všude dobře, doma nejlíp

Better late than never -Lépe pozdĕ, nežli nikdy

Not all that glitters is gold - Není zlato co se třpytí

Experience is the best teacher - Zkušenost je dobrá škola

Where there’s a will there’s a way - Kde je vůle, tam je cesta

Don’t cry over spilled milk - Nebreč nad rozlitým mlékem

If you don’t use your head, you’ll have to use your feet - Co nemáš v hlavĕ musíš mít v nohách

He who seeks finds - Kdo hledá, najde

New brooms sweep clean – Nové koštĕ dobře mete

All roads lead to Rome - Všecky cesty vedou do Říma

There are also English proverbs that sound differently from the Czech proverbs but mean essentially the same thing, such as:

A bird in the hand t is worth two in the bush - Lepší vrabec v hrsti, nežli holub na střeše

Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched - Neříkej hop, dokud jsi nepřeskočil

If you cannot take the heat, get out of the kitchen - Kdo se bojí, nesmí do lesa

First come, first served - Kdo dřív přijde, ten dřív mele

You get what you pay for - Za málo penĕz málo muziky

His eyes are bigger than his stomach - Hlad má velké oči

A penny saved is a penny earned - Kdo šetří má za tři

Birds of a feather flock together - Vrána k vranĕ sedá, rovný rovného si hledá

It’s darkest before dawn - Když je nouze nejvyšší, pomoc boží nejbližší

Don’t buy a pig in a poke - Nekupuj zajíce v pytli

People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones - Jak se do lesa volá, tak se z lesa ozývá

Where there’s smoke, there’s fire - Není šprochu, aby na nĕm nebylo pravdy trochu

Necessity is the mother of invention - Nouze naučila Dalibora housti

The early bird catches the worm - Ranní ptáče dál doskáče

Silence is golden - Mluviti stříbro, mlčeti zlato

When in Rome, do as Romans do - Kdo chce s vlky býti, musí s nimi výti

Fools’ names like fools’ places are often seen in public places

- Jména hloupých na všech sloupích

Strike, while the iron’s hot - Železo se musí kout pokud je žhavé

One cannot serve two masters - Na dvou židlích se sedĕt nedá

But these represent only a fraction of the proverbs that were commonly used in the Czechlands and which were my mother’s favorites. My mother used them on every occasion since she was able to express in a few words better than what others tried to say in their lengthy narratives. The few words seemed to always hit the mark.

That the short wise sayings of Czech people are unlike the proverbs of any other culture has been recently confirmed by a popular folklorist Joanne Asala of Finland. Here is a quote of what she said: “There is a sharp, biting wit in nearly every adage, but it is a humor that does more than entertain the listener. The wit, like the barb of an arrow, makes the Czech proverb stick in the mind”.

My mother’s sayings seemed to always fit the occasion and they always made the point that stuck in my mind forever. Frankly, I can say, that I have acquired most of my mother’s proverb wisdom which has stayed with me ever since, even as I began to approach a “venerable” age. They clearly have been an important part of my life, affecting my behavior and my actions. In fact, they have become my guides and my guidelines, setting the limits as to how far I can go and what I should do under specific set of circumstances, working almost automatically, as a reflex, and telling me “Don’t” which makes me stop when need be.. Czechs have a good expression for this type of “folk” behavior, calling it “zdravý selský rozum,” meaning “healthy farmer’s wisdom“ which, in some ways resembles the English saying, “one’s gut feeling.” So when I pass on some of my “pearls of wisdom” to my children and grandchildren, they are really nothing but the reflection of how I was brought up in the rich Czech folklore.

Most of these proverbs don’t have English equivalents and it is therefore difficult to translate them, word by word, because it would result in nonsensical meaning. So when listing some of my mother’s favorites I took the liberty to paraphrase them a bit so that the reader could understand them better.

Komu se nelení tomu zelení - No pain, no gain

Bez práce nejsou koláče - There are no cakes without work

Bez penĕz do hospody nelez - Never go to a pub without money

Hlad je nejlepší kuchař - Hunger is the best spice

Jak kdo zaseje, tak take sklidí - As you sow, so shall you reap

Kdo jinému jámu kopá, sám do ni padá - Curses, like chickens, come home to roost

Kdo chce s vlky býti musí s nimi výti - In Rome do as the Romans do

Komu není shůry dáno v apatyce nekoupí - You can't buy gray matter by the ounce

Preskoč, přlez, ale nepodlez - Do not humiliate yourself

Poruč a udĕlej sám - Give an order and then do it yourself if you want it done right

Líná huba holý neštĕstí - A lame tongue gets nothing

Dvakrát mĕř, jednou řež - Look before you leap

Ten kdo dojídá, toho na vojnĕ nezabijou -

He who finishes his plate won’t succumb in battle

Z cizího krev neteče - It is easy to be generous with other people’s money

Šaty dĕlají človĕka - Clothes make a man Ševče, drž se svého kopyta - Cobbler, stick to your last Kolik řečí znáš, tolikrát jsi človĕkem - You are as many times a man as many languages you know

V nouzi poznáš přítele - A friend in need is a friend indeed

Pas který štĕká, nekouše - Barking dogs seldom bite Jez do polosyta, pij do polopyta - Eat half and drink half

Tak dlouho se chodí s džbánem pro vodu, až se ucho utrhne - You walk with the pitcher for water until the handle breaks off

Potmĕ je každá kráva černá - All cows are black at night Ryba i host třetí den smrdí - One shouldn't overstay one's welcome

Ryba smrdí od hlavy - The fish stinks from the head Kdo po tobĕ kamenem, ty po nĕm chlebem - Turn the other cheek

Kdo se nesrovná s chlebem, nesrovná se s lidmi - He who cannot cut the bread evenly cannot get along with others Boží mlýny melou pomalu, ale jistĕ - God’s mills grind slowly but surely Lína huba, holé neštĕstí - A lame tongue gets nothing Co je šeptem to je čertem - Whispering tongues poison truth Tichá voda břehy mele - Stll waters run deep Jablko nepadá daleko od stromu - Like father, like son Co nepáli, nehaš - Let sleeping dogs lie Pečeni holubi nelítají do huby - Baked ducks don’t fly to your mouth Dočkej času jako husa klasu - Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet S poctivostí nejdál dojdeš - Honesty is the best policy Ranní ptáče dal doskáče - The early bird gets the worm Kdo se smĕje naposled, ten se smĕje nejlépe - He who laughs last laughs best

Co můžeš udelat dnes, neodkládej na zítřek - Never put off until tomorrow

what you can do today.

Ruka ruku myje - You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours

Ráno moudřejší večera - It's best to sleep on it. Co se v mládí naučíš, ve stáří jako když najdeš - What have you learned young, you’ll

find useful when you are old

Kdo šetří, má za tři - A stitch in time saves nine Jak se do lesa volá, tak se z lesa ozývá - You are always paid back in your own coin

Mráz kopřivu nespálí - Ill weeds grow apace Kdo lže, ten krade - Show me a liar, and I'll show you a thief Devatero řemesel, desátá bída - A jack of all trades is a master of none Šaty hladovému nevĕří - A well-filled belly doesn't believe in hunger Jednooký mezi slepými králem - In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king Pod svícnem bývá tma - The darkest place is under a candlestick Láska hory přenáší - Love conquers all

Jak si kdo ustele, tak si lehne - As you make your bed so you shall lie in it Chudoba cti netratí - Poverty is no reproach Já na bráchu, brácha na mĕ - You scratch my back, I scratch yours Do třetice všeho dobreho - All good things come in threes Čeho je moc, toho je příliš - Enough's enough. That's going too far. Když se kácí les, létají třísky - You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs. Doma nikdo není prorokem - A prophet has little honor in his own country Neznalost zákonů neomlouvá - Ignorance of the law is no defense Není růže bez trní - There's no rose without a thorn Dobrá rada nad zlato - Good advice is beyond price Tichá voda břehy mele - Still waters run deep Kdo chce psa bít, hůl si najde - Any stick is good enough to beat the dog

Čistota je půl zdraví - Cleanliness is next to Godliness

This chapter has been written at the specific request of my children when they constantly heard what a wonderful cook my mother was. As a toddler, and for that matter, as a teenager, as well. I liked to stay with my mother in the kitchen, not so much as to “hold onto her skirts”, as the old Czech saying goes, but because I was fascinated what my mother was doing and I was anxious to help. No doubt, I probably spent more time nibbling on her goodies than actually working, but the fact remains that it was my curiosity of what new dish she was going to create at any particular time that primarily brought me there.

My Mom , being a typical Czech mother, took pride in her cooking. Her cooking was a real culinary art par excellence and in my eyes, it would beat that of any French chef.

According to one Czech saying, a wife is judged by the way she cooks, especially how she makes dumplings which are the foundation of the Czech cuisine. My Mom’s dumplings were really great and she mastered them all, from bread dumplings potato dumplings , be they from boiled or raw potatoes, the yeast dumplings, the liver dumplings, and all sorts of fruit dumplings, made of plums, apricots, apples, etc.

Being a wife of a miller, her dishes were obviously, for the most part, based on flour and she had a whole variety of flours to her disposal. I still remember their Czech names but would not know how to translate them to English. As one would expect, “buchty” and “vdolky” were more prevalent in our house than potatoes.

The breakfast meal in our house was simple, usually consisting of coffee with cream and rye bread with butter or goose fat, or “buchty”[31] or “vdolky.”[32] Occasionally we would also have scrambled eggs, with or without mushrooms.

Our main meal, as was customary in most households in Czechoslovakia, was served at noon. It was really a dinner rather than a lunch. As a rule, it started with a scrumptious soup, which it was, and my mother knew how to make them - a variety of them, from potato soup, vegetable soup, beef soup, onion soup, pea soup, garlic soup, lentil soup, bean soup, to sour milk soup, mushroom soup, tripe soup and many more. My favorite was a beef soup with liver dumplings and noodles rolled into rolls. I also loved a special soup made of milk and yeast, cooked with potatoes, which was available only in the rural areas. Its unique sour flavor came from the fermentation of milk due to yeast action. To this day I still love soups, even though the soups here don’t come even close to the way my Mom used to make them.

Our main course did not necessarily include meat. Since I grew up during the war, a good meat, or any meat, for that matter, was scarce. My mother had to use her imagination and her culinary skills to make tasty dishes with small amounts of inferior quality meat, taking advantage of her knowledge of spices and herbs. She was like French cooks, about whom it is said that they are able to make delicious dishes even with inferior meat while the British can spoil the meal even with the best beef.

The most common source of meat in our rural household during the war was domesticated rabbit. We must have maintained almost a dozen rabbits, at any one time on our farm, kept in wire cages and feeding them clover, grass, hay, cabbage, lettuce and carrots, as I recall. They reproduced quickly and in large numbers so that we could actually have a rabbit dish practically every Sunday. Mom would normally prepare them boiled and serve them with her delicious cream sauce, appropriately spiced to give it game flavor, served with dumplings and cranberries, as a side dish.

During the war, we did not have chicken as often as is customary now in the US. As an occupied country, the farmers were obligated to turn over their eggs to authorities for the German army and killing a hen for food was prohibited. Nevertheless, most farmers occasionally secretly killed a chicken, just as we did. My mom made a superb paprika chicken dish, served with her special cream sauce made with paprika, bay leaf and other spices, and dumplings. With potatoes it would not taste the same.

Having lived on a farm, we also maintained other fowl, including ducks and geese, and even a few guinea hens and turkeys, which were not common in Czechoslovakia, as well as pigs, sheep, lambs and goats, and of course, cows and horses. The horses were used primarily for farm work or for transporting the flour to the neighboring towns or bringing grain from the individual farmers to our mill. The cows were primarily used for milk and making cheeses and butter. We did not raise beef cattle for meat, as is common in America. When the cows stopped producing milk, they were usually butchered for meat. Because of its inferior quality, the beef was usually boiled, rather than grilling it in form of steaks. Irrespective of the poor quality of beef, my mother was able to make very good beef dishes, served usually with some sauce which was her speciality. When I think of her dill sauce, saliva starts foaming in my mouth.

We usually maintained a flock of geese on our farm, which my mother would force-feed with “sisky”[33], made of boiled potatoes and bran and then baked. This was a common practice in Czechoslovakia, just as in France, not only to fatten up the goose but, above all, to produce large and fatty livers to make liver pate which was considered a delicacy. The goose dish was usually saved for special occasions, such as a village fair[34] in the summer or harvest festival[35] in the fall. It was usually baked and served with dumplings and sauerkraut. Less common was a turkey dish, but on our farm we also had it occasionally.

Having sheep on our farm, which were primarily maintained for wool, we would occasionally also have mutton or lamb which were usually served at Easter. To butcher a pig was unlawful in the German-occupied Bohemia and Moravia, and was severely punished, often by death, if the German authorities learned about it . Nevertheless, in the rural areas, many a farmer took a chance and disobeyed the law and after the New Year’s they would butcher a pig and make a feast.

Butchering the pig was a big event, which Czechs referred to as “zabijačka”. A local butcher or a farmer, knowledgeable of the process, would skillfully cut the pig into appropriate parts, leaving no waste. The head and the legs would be boiled, chopped up and ground for making “jitrnice”[36] and “”jelita. ”The legs were utilized for making headcheese. Any leftover pieces of meat, we would eat, usually with horseradish or mustard. This was really a delicacy. The pig’s brain was usually scrambled with eggs which was also a treat. American kids would sneer at such meal, while for us it was something special.

Talking about the pig, pork was considered the most popular meat dish in Czechoslovakia. It was usually served with bread dumplings and sauerkraut and popularly called by Czechs as “Vepřo-knedlo-zélo.”

Another meat dish was “Wiener schnitzel,” which in spite of its Viennese name, was a real Czech dish. My Mom prepared it extremely well, and served it with potato salad or with mashed potatoes and cucumber salad. Other meat dishes included goulash with potatoes, smoked ham served with “bramborák”[37] or potato dumplings, made of raw potatoes, and served with sauerkraut and chopped up fried onions.

With our flour mill, we also had free access to fresh-water fish, which my mother used to serve, especially during the time when the water mill inlet was closed for annual cleaning. We would sometimes catch a river eel which frequently congregated behind the water gate. Mom would then marinate them and preserve them in large glass jars. She would serve it on festive occasions, after the marinated eel reached the right flavor. I haven’t tasted anything so delicious since I last ate it.

Having friends who were hunters, they would bring us a hare, pheasants, or even venison during the hunting season, and my Mom would do wonders with it.

As the main source of calories, Czechs usually use flour products, such as dumplings and noodles, and, of course, the famous Czech rye bread and pastry, including different types of rolls, “buchty” and “vdolky”, or potatoes. Rice in war time was a rare commodity.

No meal would be complete without some desert and my mother was a master in making them. Her repertoire included strudel, an assortment of fruit dumplings, made of plums, apples, apricot, etc, dumplings from cottage cheese, yeast dumplings with “povidla” (lacquer), and Czech pancakes and blintzes. She also made fantastic torts, especially those made with whipped cream, chocolate rolls with almonds, and, I almost forgot, “koblihy”, fried in butter, which looked like round jelly donuts but a bit firmer with crusty top and usually filled with current jelly. An American jelly donut is a far cry from my mother’s creation. Last but not least, I should also mention Czech “koláče”[38], which she made two kinds, small round ones, which were most common, or large rectangular ones which were later sliced into small pieces. The kolaches were usually baked in large farm ovens,[39] almost commercial size, the types I have not seen in the US