My dear parents stopped by my place yesterday – on their way to a wedding out in Jersey. They arrived, in the middle of the snow, bearing very cool kitchen chairs for me, kitchen chairs which look like they came out of a 1950s kitchen. Red leather and chrome. So comfortable, you just sink down into them. But there were my parents, beaming at me in the foyer, covered in snow, holding the two chairs. My heart just cracks!
They hung out with me for a while, we had coffee, we sat in my kitchen, talking, and laughing. My mom had brought turkey, cheese, and a huge dill pickle, which we all shared. A picnic.
It was so nice to see them, and so nice to have them over in my place. There have been times in my life when I have lived in apartments where it was impossible to have anyone over. Either they were too small, or, like the apartment I lived in briefly on 63rd Street, I had two roommates who were completely insane, who both had cats and the entire space was like a lunatic asylum.
Now it’s my palace – and I can welcome them into it.
It was a joy. My parents. It’s always an interesting conversation with them.
At one point – we started talking about Prague, and Czechoslovakia in general. Kafka, Kundera … My dad said something about Kepler and Tycho Brahe being brought to Prague – and he asked me, (which I love) “Did you ‘do’ Czechoslovakia?” Meaning … in my whole Country series.
I did – but on my old blog.
So since my dad requests it, I’ll bring those posts over. Most of my initial knowledge about Czechoslovakia came from reading writers I love.
Kundera. Kafka’s journals (which are absolutely phenomenal). Ivan Klima is a great favorite of mine. Vaclav Havel. It seems extraordinary that one country would produce so many great writers. (But then again, I’m Irish. What country on the planet has given us more great writers than that one small island?) Maybe it’s something in the air. Or the water.
I knew about “Prague Spring” from reading Unbearable Lightness of Being and then seeing the film.
Etc.
It was only much later in my life that I decided to investigate the roots of this fascinating country, to see how it fit into the rest of Europe, and to learn about what Klima calls “the spirit of Prague” – the very spirit which made such things as “the Prague Spring” possible.
Ah, Tycho Brahe! Possibly the most colorful astronomer who ever lived. It’s amazing he was able to accomplish as much as he did, without the use of optics.
Congrat’s on the chairs, they sound cool.
I’m actually 1/4 Czech, though it’s fair to say I’m not very closely attuned to my heritage. Guess I’ll have to read your piece…
Didn’t Tycho Brahe have a silver prosthetic nose? And … Steve Silver, another blogger and a friend of mine … mentioned something about Brahe dying because his bladder exploded … Brahe didn’t want to get up and go to the bathroom because the King was speaking and his bladder exploded and he died.
This is a 3rd-hand telling of this tale so I am sure I got some of it wrong.
I think Brahe lost part of his nose in a fight or duel, and apparently did use a metal insert of some sort as a replacement.
On his death, there was apparently a custom of the time that guests should not leave the table before their host. The way I remember the story, Brahe over-indulged and then had to wait interminably. By the time he finally tried to relieve himself, the bladder had burst. He didn’t die until several days later – that had to be an especially horrific way to go…
I think Brahe took the customs of the time a bit too seriously.
I don’t think the host would have minded. At least it would be better than having someone dying in a fiery mesh at your dinner table.
I’m with you on that one, red.
Of course if Brahe had been a more judicious man, we probably wouldn’t be talking about him five centuries later. Still, I think I’d have to choose anonymity over an early, slow, painful death.