Sunday Lunches

Whenever I am asked about my childhood, I wax lyrical about Sunday lunches. The one meal a week that my family almost always came together for – free from work, music, and sporting commitments. We were often joined by friends of my brother and I – many of whom still recount their own fond memories of the Neuhäuser Sunday lunches.

My Apuci would spend the morning in the kitchen. Windows open, flooding the neighbourhood with delicious aromas of Magyar peasant food and magical sounds of music from the 1970’s, operas, and operettas. Think Boney M, Frank Sinatra, Luciano Pavarotti, and Apuci; all in perfect harmony.

But mostly, it is the storytelling that is burned into my memory – not so much the content of the tales, but the act of sharing the stories from Apuci’s childhood, misspent youth, time in military service, our ancestors, family, and friends.

Apuci passed away in the year 2000. Twenty-five years – half my lifetime – ago. But his love for storytelling lives on in me. Not only to amuse and entertain friends and family members, but also as a vehicle through which to connect with people that I meet through my work.