By Chance Alone Read Online Free

on many days I could choose my menu based on the smells coming out of the three kitchens. I loved fish, and every Thursday in the summers, a local fisherman would bring us two trout, which my mother would bake in butter for dinner. It was delicious. But I detested her tomato soup with rice and would run to another kitchen whenever she made it.
    Grain-fed chickens and ducks roamed everywhere in our yard. Geese were fed with boiled corn and kept in their own separate area, where they quickly fattened up. This poultry provided for all our needs, and we were self-sufficient in meats and fats for cooking and baking. The winter diet relied more on meat and fat. Since we were a traditional orthodox Jewish family, we had to process the meat ourselves and render the fat from the geese so nothing was wasted. We ate delicacies such as goose liver, goose rinds with mashed potatoes and sautéed onions, and many other specialties. Feathers and down were plucked and used for pillows and duvets.
    A tall fence enclosing our compound had a main gate for vehicles and a small gate for foot traffic. It was patrolled by our three dogs: a large Alsatian named Farkas ( wolf in Hungarian), and two fox terriers, Ali and Prince. Farkas was the alpha dog, and he was particularly attuned to his surroundings. We could tell by the tone of his bark whether someone approaching the compound was friend or foe, and we always felt well protected.
    Because our spacious property lent itself to all kinds of fun, my friends would often gather there to play games such as cowboys and bandits. We would hide in the attic of the old stable or climb the branches of the walnut trees or disappear into the woodshed. We also got into a lot of trouble, for which I often paid the price. When I was eleven years old, I took note of Grandfather’s hiding place atop the wardrobe cupboard in his bedroom. This was where he kept special things away from prying eyes. The tall cupboard was half of a his-and-hers set made of ornately carved dark wood. I knew there were goodies up there and was curious to see what treasures I might find. One day, I climbed up on a chair to get to the top, and there I found a bulky leather holster that I picked up in my hands. It was heavy and I wondered if it had a pistol inside. I opened the leather flap, and lo and behold there was a small polished Beretta with a black handgrip. Excited beyond expectation, I was determined to get to town immediately to show it off to my friends. Nobody would be able to top me! I held the holster under my armpit tightly and headed out, all the while hoping Grandfather would not notice it was gone.
    When I reached town, my friends gathered around me and I showed them the gun. They were very impressed, and some ran off to get more friends. Soon, I was surrounded by fifteen excited boys, every one of whom wanted to handle the pistol.Some of them dared me to fire it. I pulled the trigger but nothing happened, so I pulled harder and harder. They began to tease me, saying the gun was a fake. I was angry that it wouldn’t fire, and I managed to remove the magazine. We were all amazed to find twelve bullets inside. Fortunately, nobody knew about (or accidentally released) the safety catch. By this time, I was getting very anxious that I would be discovered, so I called an end to the fun and headed home.
    I sneaked back into Grandfather’s bedroom and replaced the pistol, hoping he wouldn’t notice. For weeks after, the boys were still chattering about the gun, but somehow I was never called to account for my actions. In hindsight, I realize how dangerous it was to have a loaded gun and fifteen naive boys grabbing and handling it. If the gun had discharged and injured anyone, there would have been serious consequences for my family, since civilians were strictly prohibited from keeping handguns under Hungarian rule.
    On another occasion, eight or ten friends and I were trying to emulate the habits of older boys