Taborites of Bohemia #AtoZChallenge2021

Genealogy research over the years led me to many unusual topics that proved interesting because of the relationship to my ancestors' countries of origin. Several of my great grandparents emigrated as children from Bohemia in the present day Czech Republic. The following is an excerpt from a short story (Can Any War Truly Be Called “Holy”?) that emerged from my research of that country.

Taborites of Bohemia

The Taborites, Czech Táborité, were named for the town south of Prague in Bohemia. Here they formed another party of Hussites, a forerunner of the Protestant Reformation. Their theology was a departure from the medieval Catholic Church.

The only two sacraments that the Taborites accepted as part of their religious beliefs were that of baptism and communion. Baptism was their first affirmation of belief in God. Communion was the partaking of the body and blood of Jesus Christ in the forms of both bread and wine.

They rejected the Real Presence, purgatory, and prayers for the dead. They did not believe in the sacraments of confirmation, reaffirming belief in God; matrimony, union of man and woman; holy orders of priests; extreme unction, or blessings and forgiveness for the dying.

Taborites also discouraged most other beliefs and practices of Christianity. They believed Christ would soon return and they wanted to establish what they envisioned was His heavenly utopia, which excluded personal ownership of property, class distinction, human laws, taxes, and marriage.

They also disregarded the idea of pacifism, some Taborites choosing to divide even further. In a short period of time, power and privilege raised their ugly heads and those who advocated for peace and freedom lost their place to more tyrannical forces.

In the early 1400s, Taborites won numerous crusades fought within Bohemia. The battles they chose to fight in a series of marches outside of the country were lost. Their extended military campaigns and total destruction of churches within Bohemia, however, eventually led to the Battle of Lipany, east of Prague.

The attackers were Catholics, along with another branch of Hussites, Ultraquist nobility who believed in the partaking of bread and wine; Catholics reserved the privilege of taking wine, as a symbol of Christ’s blood, to their priests. The battle, described by some as a massacre, ended the Hussite holy wars.

Often, the divide appears as nothing to a casual observer. But to a true believer, the division is everything. Many wars have proven that fighting to change the beliefs of others is a futile battle. Changing another person’s actions does not eliminate the core doctrine of their beliefs.

It becomes incumbent upon those who have the authority to create wars to accept responsibility to first learn from past conflicts before instigating future ones. Rather than plan another conflict to establish strength or to impose beliefs on others, would it not be better to remain sympathetic, and accept differences as God’s true utopia?

*****

Mishicot and Neshota Rivers #AtoZChallenge2021

My hometown in Wisconsin is situated between the parentheses of two gently flowing rivers. Once carrying the regal names of Mishicot River and Neshota River, both of Native American origin, they were later renamed the East Twin and the West Twin rivers. For many years, Neshota River supplied a variety of fish, mainly bass and trout, that my dad caught and my mother fried up for our supper.

Along the banks of the rivers, Dad set traps for muskrat (sometimes catching mink) and sold the pelts. The Neshota River allowed for enjoyable boating excursions in summer. When frozen solid during the winter, the Mishicot River supplied an alternate route for my grandfather to travel by automobile.

While researching the lives of my ancestors, I noticed that European rivers seemed to play prominent roles in their lives, also. With the researched genealogy information, I wrote a series of short stories, using the collected facts to detail the lives of my ancestors as I imagined them.

One tale is set in a village of the area now known as the Czech Republic and revolves around my father’s great grandparents. The narrator is the great grandfather’s older brother, who remains on the family farm while his brother immigrates to the United States. At one point he muses over the inevitability of his brother’s life:

Years ago, Adalbert had told me that the Blanice river cut through the farmland owned by Jan Novotny. This was something he’d learned after he married Jan’s daughter, Marie, and moved up to Horni Hrachovice, a village divided by the Blanice. He always believed the river, which flowed through our land also, had connected him to Marie from the time of their births.

Because of this, I knew Adalbert and Marie were destined to leave our bucolic South Bohemian countryside and travel far. Like the river that drew them together, it was not in their nature to remain still.

Do rivers play a prominent roll in your family history?

*****

Yeoman's Daughter

###

The 26 eclectic-genre short stories for my #AtoZChallenge are excerpts from travelogue notes by

novel character Gahlen, who first appeared in SHARDS OF MEMORY – Oral History in a Heartbeat.

Each A-to-Z daily post is a complete, stand-alone tale.

Yeoman’s Daughter

Genre: Historical Romance

(386 words)

Katerina stared toward the aging castle looming over the Bohemian countryside. Its crumbling structure served as a backdrop to her life. Memories surfaced of her father’s return from the war, alive but crippled for life. Whether limbs or part of their minds were lost, most men who survived were left to struggle with farm life.

*

Her father, a yeoman, could no longer make simple decisions such as when to till the fields or how to plant and sow. He roamed the fields when left unattended. If he wandered into town, the feed mill owner escorted him home after shop closing. Sometimes the local priest walked him home and stayed for supper.

Katerina’s mother was a daughter of the yeoman who originally owned the farm. She had gradually stopped contending with the uncertainties of life and taken to her bed. If she spotted the priest strolling down the lane with her husband in tow, she barred her bedroom door.

“Evening Miss Kate,” Father Tam would say, doffing an imaginary hat. “Your father and I have been for a walk. We could both use a shot of brandy and a bowl of soup. If that is not too much bother.”

Katerina dutifully poured the brandy and heated the soup. Her poor father went along with Father Tam’s charade, never appearing to doubt that the priest spoke the absolute truth. Following the sparse meal, Katerina settled her father in a chair near the wood stove, wrapping a blanket tight around his legs.

Then she and Father Tam would step outside. With the abandoned castle at their back, they discussed her father’s condition, pointedly ignoring that her mother might be suffering with a different problem.

*

Katerina walked out to the lawn swing, adjusting her skirts to sit. As her gaze wandered up to the castle, a touch of melancholy filled her. The affair, as secret as it was forbidden, had lasted a year. She still blushed to think of how they inhaled the essence of each other’s souls and dreamed the intimacies of one another’s ambitions.

They never tarnished their love by consummating the relationship. When the parish choirmaster had recommended a transfer to a congregation in Prague for Father Tam, Katerina was devastated. But the week after the priest vacated their town, her mother left her bed.

*****

X-Mas Carol for Good King Wenceslas

###

The 26 eclectic-genre short stories for my #AtoZChallenge are excerpts from travelogue notes by

novel character Gahlen, who first appeared in SHARDS OF MEMORY – Oral History in a Heartbeat.

Each A-to-Z daily post is a complete, stand-alone tale.

By engraving by Brothers Dalziel - 

http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/good_king_wenceslas.htm, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12404573

X-MAS CAROL for GOOD KING WENCESLAS

Genre: Musical History

(319 WORDS) + song lyrics

Singing carols on the eve of Christmas is a holiday tradition. Relatives who emigrated from Bohemia sing the Christmas Carol “Good King Wenceslas.” Ancestors christened Wenceslas were named for the man who ruled as duke of Bohemia from 921. After the duke was assassinated by his brother Boleslaw in 935, he was declared a saint within the Catholic Church.

Wenceslas, also known as Vaclav the Good, is the Patron Saint of the Czech Republic. His day is celebrated on September 28. But the Feast of St. Stephen, a martyr mentioned in the song Good King Wenceslas, is celebrated on December 26 so the carol is sung for the Christmas holiday.

Children of the era recited by heart the lyrics of John Mason Neale’s work, published in 1853. The song opens on St. Stephen’s Day, also known as The Feast of Stephen. This holy day is celebrated in most of the Germanic states of Europe, as well as in Ireland, and in Canada where it is known as Boxing Day.

Stephen, once a stable boy, became a deacon of the church and distributed alms from community funds to church widows. Dissatisfaction arose over alleged slights in distribution, and strong disagreement with Stephen’s teachings. This culminated in his death warrant, that of public stoning, around AD 34. Whether he died at the north end of Jerusalem or the east, St. Stephen’s Gate now honors his memory on the east side of the city.

According to the song’s lyrics:

King Wenceslas demonstrates to his page the act of giving by collecting food and wine and logs for burning. These he will deliver, in the dead of winter, to a needy family living in the woods. When the young page complains of his difficulty in navigating the deep snow, he is directed to walk in the footprints made by the king. The page perseveres and learns that helping others brings blessings upon himself.

*****

GOOD KING WENCESLAS

by John Mason Neale

Good King Wenceslas looked out,

On the feast of Stephen,

When the snow lay round about,

Deep and crisp and even.

Brightly shown the moon that night,

Though the frost was cruel,

When a poor man came in sight,

Gathering winter fuel.

Hither, page, and stand by me,

If thou know it telling:

Yonder peasant, who is he?

Where and what his dwelling?

Sire, he lives a good league hence,

Underneath the mountain,

Right against the forest fence,

By Saint Agnes fountain.

Bring me flesh, and bring me wine.

Bring me pine logs hither.

Thou and I will see him dine,

When we bear the thither.

Page and monarch, forth they went,

Forth they went together

Through the rude wind’s wild lament,

And the bitter weather.

Sire, the night is darker now,

And the wind blows stronger.

Fails my heart, I know not how.

I can go no longer.

Mark my footsteps my good page,

Tread thou in them boldly:

Thou shalt find the winter’s rage,

Freeze thy blood less coldly.

In his master’s step he trod,

Where the snow lay dented.

Heat was in the very sod,

Which the Saint had printed.

Therefore, Christian men, be sure,

Wealth or rank possessing,

Ye who now will bless the poor,

Shall yourselves find blessing

*****

No longer copyrighted, John Mason Neale's words

are now in the public domain

*****

*****

Kolaches with Birds and Bees

###

The 26 eclectic-genre short stories for my #AtoZChallenge are excerpts from travelogue notes by

novel character Gahlen, who first appeared in SHARDS OF MEMORY – Oral History in a Heartbeat.

Each A-to-Z daily post is a complete, stand-alone tale - partly true, partly fiction.

Kolaches with Birds and Bees

Genre: Young Adult Science Non-fiction

(363 words)

We were gathered around Selena and Micha’s kitchen table. While visiting this quaint Czech village, they had invited us to their home for coffee and dessert. The table setting included urns of steaming hot coffee and platters of round pastries topped with sweet fillings.

When their young daughter reached for a poppyseed-filled kolache, Micha slowed her hand. “Tereza, tell our guests something you learned in school.”

Her disappointment slowly turned to delight. “We learned about the birds and the bees. Would you like me to recite the lesson?”

Our nervousness over hearing a lesson on reproduction was clearly misinterpreted.

“Tereza,” her father said, “our guests are growing restless for dessert. Give your report so they can enjoy your mother’s kolaches.”

“Our temperatures and seasons,” Tereza began, “are not much different from weather in your Wisconsin. Snow comes often in winter. Otherwise, we have warmer temperatures and enjoy the entertainment of what is called the birds and the bees. Let me tell you about this.

“Here in Hosti, Bohemia, we have many colorful birds: grouse and rose finch and even woodpeckers. In fish ponds, you will see white-tailed eagles and cranes. Storks and buzzards frequent our wooded areas and valleys. But we have no crows, none at all.

“Instead, magpies have taken over, especially the white-throated ones. They are not nocturnal and do not keep company with nightingales. They tend to frequent areas where hives of honey bees proliferate. That is how bees keep their population high, by . . . um, proliferation.”

Tereza stopped until her mother offered encouragement.

“The magpies do not eat honey and they are not bee-eaters. They prefer eating mice and cockroaches, and spiders whole. That is why these birds and bees get along so well together, or rather apart. They do not eat or sting each other.

“I like magpies because they eat things I really, really do not like, especially creepy crawly spiders.” Smiling, she said, “Now for dessert.”

Selena gave us a conspiratorial wink. “She only agrees to tell her birds and bees story when promised an extra kolache, preferably poppyseed.”

No one fought over a choice of prune or poppyseed. There were plenty for everyone.

*****

E is for EASTERN EUROPEAN ANCESTORS #IWSG #AtoZChallenge

For this year's challenge, my theme is The Fun in Writing. Each of my 26 posts for April is aimed at illustrating fun parts of an author's day. A writer doesn't only write.
Creating a story or an essay requires research, revision, editing, and lots of coffee and chocolate.

This is also Insecure Writer's Support Group Day. #IWSG

What I have learned over the years from the A to Z Challenge is that composing 26 blog posts with a theme each April has done wonders for reducing my insecurity about having the ability to produce coherent sentences. (Apparently, it has done nothing to help me reduce my rambling sentences!)

E is for Eastern European Ancestors

This is the first of four Wednesday A-to-Z posts related to my research for a novel based on my ancestors: sixteen great-great grandparents who shared the experience of emigrating from (out of) Eastern Europe (and ultimately immigrating (in)to the United States.)

Those of you who have researched any of your family history know the exciting experience of discovering a new relative or a "lost" ancestor. Since the advent of internet ancestry sites, such as Ancestry.com, finding elusive elements of your family tree is exceptionally easier than when I first began my research.

The detective work involved, though, was possibly more fun back when the search involved greater effort than typing in a name and clicking on a "search" key.

Some of branches of my family tree originated in the Eastern European countries of Bohemia, Prussia, and Bavaria. Accomplishing my research in those areas required heavy dependence on library books and the internet. Closer to home, my sister and I took a "cemetery" tour I had mapped out, traveling around the Wisconsin countryside to all of the known locations where relatives were reportedly interred.

Every encounter of successfully discovering another ancestor's cemetery tombstone is an energizing event.

But writing stories about life in Eastern Europe during the early 1800s,

based on my earlier research, is equally exhilarating!

 

Here is a page from my cemetery research files:

Maternal Great-Great Grandparents, Caroline Heider & Gustave Maigatter
In 1866, Gustave immigrated with his parents from Magdeburg, an important Prussian fortress until 1912:
most of the city was destroyed in World War II (1939-1945).

RIVERS FLOWING GENTLY



My hometown is situated between the parentheses of two gently flowing rivers, once named the Mishicot River and the Neshota River. Unfortunately, the names were eventually changed to the more generic East Twin and the West Twin rivers. For many years, these rivers supplied a variety of fish that my dad caught and my mother fried for our meals. These same rivers produced muskrat and mink pelts for my father to sell, allowed for many enjoyable boating excursions, and even supplied an alternate route for my grandfather to travel in his automobile during the winter when the water froze solid.

While I was researching the lives of my ancestors, I noticed that European rivers seemed to play prominent roles in their lives, also. With the researched genealogy information, I wrote a series of short stories, using the collected facts to mold the lives of my ancestors.

One tale is set in a village of what is now known as the Czech Republic and revolves around my father’s great grandparents. The narrator is the great grandfather’s older brother, who remains on the family farm while his brother immigrates to the United States. At one point he muses over the inevitability of his brother’s life:

Years ago, Adalbert had told me that the Blanice river cut through the farmland owned by Jan Novotny. This was something he’d learned after he married Jan’s daughter, Marie, and moved up to Horni Hrachovice, a village divided by the Blanice. He always believed the river, which flowed through our land also, had connected him to Marie from the time of their births.

Because of this, I knew Adalbert and Marie were destined to leave our bucolic South Bohemian countryside and travel far. Like the river that drew them together, it was not in their nature to remain still.

Do rivers play a prominent roll in your family history?