Saturday with the Czechs

Today Tim and I spent most of the day weeding the garden and mowing the lawn with Jonah looking on and walking around while holding on to our hands alternately. I thought I would have the whole backyard done and ready for new herbs and veggies by the end of the day, but the grass is taking so long to rip out of the overgrown beds that I have another couple of days of weeding on my hands. And that's just our teeny backyard. Then there is still some weeding to be done in the front!

I always dread yard work. Haven't done much of it in my life, but it's funny that when I get started, it always feels good. It feels nice to be outside, digging in the dirt and being able to see the results instantly. That's elementary gardening, I guess, since sophisticated gardeners plan for seasons, if not years ahead. This year we would like to plant some chili peppers, cilantro, parsley, lettuce, cucumbers, basil, and cherry tomatoes. Thanks to the landlords and previous tenants we already have blueberries, strawberries, rhubarb, celery, mint, chives, oregano, lemon balm, blackberries, raspberries (I believe), and a persimmon and pear tree out front.

Aside from gardening, Jonah and I went on a little adventure together. I recently found out, completely by chance, that there is an organization called the Czech Society of Oregon. I came across their website and thought to myself - what a perfect place to advertise the Czech course I will be teaching this summer at a community college in town. Also I thought that I should check out what they do, because I would love for Jonah to get to know more Czech people in the community, and especially kids. So I e-mailed the president and she invited me for their bimonthly potluck and meeting. I washed the dirt off my fingers and toes, grabbed Jonah by the collar, stopped by the store for some fruit, and headed over to meet some fellow Czechs.

My intuition was right. The group consisted mostly of retirees, some of whom immigrated to the U.S. from the Czech Republic decades ago, others were descendants - children and grandchildren of Czech immigrants. Most of the attendees seemed to be in their seventies. There were a few in their fifties and sixties, but only a couple in their forties. Only one young woman other than me showed up. It was her first time too.

During the potluck I broke down and had some pork roast. I hadn't had pork or beef in at least a year. It looked so good, so traditional, and I was so hungry. I had it with cooked cabbage and potato dumplings. Very satisfying! Just like in the old country. Except, no one's cabbage even comes close to my grandmother's cabbage, so no tie-breaker there. My other favorite was the blueberry coffee cake. Yum! Possibly the best coffee cake I'd ever had. Too bad that when I went for seconds there was no more. And I heard the strudel was outstanding, but it disappeared faster than a chirping bird's worm.

At our table, the former president of the Czech Society, a primped up older lady in a salmon-colored sweater told stories as she ate her casserole. She talked about how when she first immigrated, a secretary who had always lived in a large city, was sent to work on a farm. She walked around in high heals and didn't know what to do with herself. This lady was a great storyteller. I noticed that one mark of a good storyteller is to steamroller right over minor interruptions, stern face, solid gestures, strong voice, so no one dares interrupt the second time. This lady definitely had the air of a president of some type of society. I asked her what being President entailed. "You rule," she replied, "and do a lot of this." She pointed in a commanding way at each person at our table, nodding her head. A lot of delegating, she said. "No one wants the responsibility now and we are voting on a new president today."

"Do you dance?" an elderly couple asked me. I inferred they were asking about ballroom or polka dancing. "I don't," I replied coyly. I got the dirtiest look from them I have gotten in years. It was as if I had said that I don't cook or clean - ever. Neither I or anyone else in our household. Heaven forbid I don't dance! Shame on me!

The meeting started with a salute to the flag. No, not the Czech, but the American flag. This was the first time Jonah heard The Pledge of Allegiance. He got impatient and shrieked right in the middle of this solemn occasion. I whisked him from the floor to the chair for a quick change of pace, and then right into my arms. My trick worked and the society members got through the pledge without any further interruptions.

During the meeting I learned a bit more about the group's activities and got to introduce myself and advertise my class! It looks like I may have a few students!

We didn't make it through the meeting. Jonah got tired and grumpy, so we had to go. But I was impressed with how personable everyone was. And the food... nothing makes me happier than good food that reminds me of home. It looks like next time, following the potluck and the meeting, there will be some polka dancing. Do I dare go?

In the parking lot I took a good look around, hoping to collect more demographic data, but the dozens of cars parked there surprisingly lacked any sort of personal touch - no dolls, caps, or stuffed animals, no bumper stickers, in fact no stickers of any kind. Only one Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker and one that said, "Soy Republicano" in all caps. Darn, I thought, I had hoped I could figure these people out a little better than this. Maybe next time?