Oh, well he was. At least, he got a big part in it. H.Z. was just like me. If he was showing up somewhere, you couldn’t ignore him. He was simple present. His tweed-coat was busted by his buff broad shoulder. He was not a tall guy, but he had a big soul and an even bigger heart. We went to the same art high-school, he was on the ceramic class. We were in the same age. He felt already very adult of himself, like a man, he spat sharply and often. But with his charming smile, flirting eyes, with his open, honest face he could conquer even the heart of my grandmother, who was hating men in general from the bottom of her heart. His birthday was on March 13th, „just like my father's birthday“ said my grandmother and got moved from her memories. I didn’t fall in love with him, but I loved him, unconditional, deep and forever. He was the brother, I never had. He was my hero, my James Dean, the most handsome boy at the whole school. Around him was a constant rotation of girls, he wanted to marry one after the other, he was serious in all his relationships, short or long. He had his own living and bedroom in one, it was a small, but very long, so called domestic room in a seven-room apartment at the third floor in an apartment house, in downtown Budapest. He painted his room, there was hanging from the celling a painted leg with candy-striped sox, he said, that was the hanging leg of the rain. From the wall was laughing a strawberry, in 300x blow-up. He collected inflatable hippos, and had the biggest disc-collection I ever had seen. He was a big fan from Donovan and Neil Young, at times when everybody was a fan either from the Beatles or from The Rolling Stones. He revealed some new music to me everyday, „Did you ever hear that? You must listen to that!“ I guess, he needed hours after our music sessions to get back the LPs in their right cover. He played in an ice-hockey crew, and he played guitar. He wore everyday a new colorful patterned tie. He got several roles in different movies. With seventeen he earned more money, as his father, who was a graphic artist in demand.
PAUL ANKA • YOU ARE MY DESTINY