SWEPT AWAY

On January 22, we celebrate Davina - her birth, as one of the happiest days of my life;
Her adorable presence, full of inspiration and hope - the embodiment of a Murillo Angel;
Her many natural talents - insights right on target - her love of children and older people
- lessons, that remain her legacy in the hearts of many.

Davina

SOLD

View point

Strange is our situation here on Earth.
Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why,
yet sometimes seeming to divine a purpose.
From the standpoint of daily life, however,
there is one thing we do know:
that man is here for the sake of other man
- above all for those upon whose
smiles and well-being our own happiness depends.

Albert Einstein

The importance of dreams

(from Lessons that cannot be thought - a child's perspective) Dreams are very important. They are an integral part of our personalities. If we pay attention to them, they could even be guide-posts. But not all dreams occur during sleeping hours, and those you never forget. I will give you an example. My brother and I learned to swim the hard way. As soon as Mother dropped us off at the train station, I knew that we were in the midst of a life and death situation. We were on our way to summer vacation, our first time away from home. I still remember how, between hundreds of jumping and screaming kids, I was dying of thirst, but unable to get anyone’s attention as they were passing drinks around. I had no choice, but to lean out the window, open my mouth and catch a few rain drops. And that was just the beginning. For the next two weeks, every sunny day, we found ourselves crawling at the bottom of the shallow end of a swimming pool, alternated by momentary floats – which we called swimming. Day- by -day, as our finger tips were getting bloodier, our determination grew. Come to think of it, all that suffering came with a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Still, I would not recommend this experience to anyone. By the time we returned home, I became obsessed with my newly acquired skill, and soon needed new ones to support it. My motivation had no boundaries: I learned to lie and cheat in order to raise money for admission fees to various pools; discovered how to stitch my own bathing suits, and within months, I was a disciplined diver and 'master' of every possible swim stroke. This went on for a few years. When my school solicited volunteers to join a territorial swimming competition, I thought of all the disadvantages of being small, lacking professional training and experience. But I knew, that having the opportunity of using an Olympic pool - was something I could not resist. This is what I longed for and often dreamt of. On our way to the competition, no one talked to me. Being the only volunteer from my grade, the other girls either did not know or cared less to ask my name. But I heard them feverishly voicing their concerns about, taller, better trained, more privileged kids we were going to be up against from other schools. I wanted to get off the bus, but it all happened too fast – we arrived, changed, lined up, paired with same age groups and heard the first anticipated gun shot. Being put on the spot, I remember flying in the water pushing hard to gain advantage due to my small stature, and swimming with all my might while staying within the dividing line. Finally, my dreams were coming through – I thought, “I am in heaven”. Later, standing in a huge crowd, exhausted, but completely satisfied, I did not even notice that people were asking for the winners to step forward. All eyes were on me, but I did not care – I was still dreaming. Still, on the way home that day, I noticed, that everyone knew who to ask for advise for strong long and fast swim strokes. "Copyright © 2007, Ildiko David, All Rights Reserved

A real trophy

One thing is for sure that people are not normal. Even if they seem that way it is not true. Actually it is much worse when they seem normal because you begin to have certain expectations of them and the end result is bound to be disastrous. I give you an example. Between the age of 8 and 10, my life ambition was to be recognized as someone who recites poetry in a unique way. I would enter into various competitions, in schools and public places. Poetry reading was fashionable and well respected in circles where I grew up in Europe. A cute little girl, I am told, with glasses, long brown braids, full of freckles, I would come on stage, following other already well recognized actors. Looking for equal recognition and admiration - hoping to be rewarded with a modest bouquet of flowers at curtain close. As a consequence of a serious strep throat infection, however, one day, my performance at school’s literary club competition, came to a quick halt. My disappointment was so deep, that during my convalescence, I became obsessed with a plan to remedy the situation.  Determined, but unable to come up with any solution,  all I could think of, that my hard work and anticipation of how my recital was going to be received, cannot be for nothing. On the first day back to school I arrived early and marched straight into the teacher’s office area – a scary and forbidden place, where no kid would voluntarily enter unless he is deadly sick or was summoned for a detention. Teachers looked at me in passing as I heard myself demanding to see the principal. She was a serious, no nonsense person – a skinny old lady, who, I was convinced knew nothing about me or feelings in general. What should I say to her? I wondered. Fearful and doubting, but driven by passionate desire to set my record straight, I just stood there, as out of nowhere, I heard her voice: “what can we do for you Lilla?” To my biggest surprise, I told her how, due to unfortunate circumstances, I lost not only my place in the school competition, but most importantly, I was prevented from presenting the poem I studied, rehearsed, formed a relationship with and was ready to interpret with my own feelings. The principal listened and asked me to step in to her office. By then, I was terrified, but had no option, “the dice has been thrown”. Behind closed doors, the principal looked at me and asked if she could hear my poem? All of a sudden, I found myself in another world, giving my absolute best, as I realised that from then on everything was going to be all right. That day, on my way home from school, I was another person: more confident, proud of having a newly acquired knowledge and first hand experience of justice: a real trophy.