January 31, 2011: From Bratislava, with Laska

I've been in my hometown for about a week, reveling in bright air, poppyseeds and filial love.

My Grandparent's elevator is, and always has been, baby blue on the inside. Just above the panel where you press the buttons, there is a small enameled plate that provides instructions on how to use the elevator. I have read that panel a million times, but only ever gotten to the third or fourth line since the ride is so short.

In my Grandparent's apartment some things change, but some things always stay the same. For instance, they have two small dishes on the sideboard in the living room. They are both porcelain. One blue and gold, and the other white and oval, with a little landscape painted on the lid. Every time I come to visit, I lift up the lids of both dishes and invariably find chocolate covered almonds in one and jelly candies in the shape of various fruits in the other.

The room I usually sleep in has a window that faces the street. In 1968, when the Russians invaded Czechoslovakia, my father sat in that very window and watched the tanks roll down the street. He says that people ran out into the street and took down all the street signs, so the soldiers wouldn't know where they were.

Last night my Grandmother and I went to a play, which was already well underway by the time we got there. We sat in the cafe and talked a little about the invasion. She had been a reporter before the invasion, and when the Russians occupied, they shut down the TV station. She, and several like-minded people felt it was important to keep the population informed.  The writers would gather, sometimes at my Grandparent's apartment, where they kept right on writing the news. An actor friend kept watch for the police in the courtyard, and my great-grandmother stood by the window watching for his signal. The technicians would set up their equipment wherever they could; they broadcast the reports from garages, apartments and the fire station (apparently the firefighters were sympathetic).

Eventually, they stopped broadcasting and, I presume, settled into a sort of socialist gloom.

My heroes.