Peter, my brother and best friendI still remember, you were 7 years old, when the Second World War reached our town. The Germans retreated, and the Russians moved in and occupied our country. Our only food was bread made out of ground corn. The Russians in our neighborhood took all the food they could find and what they did not eat immediately, locked up in a small closet in our house. This closet had a small window from the outside, just larger than your head. You slipped in and passed out enough food for our family to eat for weeks. It was very dangerous, if they had found you there, they would have killed us all.After the war in the elementary school, Bela - our older 10 year old brother (you were only 8), told you during a 10 minutes recess that a guy named Metzger was giving him a hard time. You went into his classroom, Metzger was just having his jam sandwich, you took it from his hand and pushed it to his face, saying "be nice to my brother, or else I’ll be back" You did not need to go back....We started competing in sports: cross-country skiing, jumping, downhill skiing, winter and summer (modern) pentathlon (horse jumping, fencing, pistol shooting, swimming, cross-country running) we were together days and nights. From sports we learned that without hard work, there is no success!Suddenly in 1956, after the Hungarian revolution failed, you left to England, started a new life at age 19, alone. You became an amateur boxing champion of Essex. How did you do it? You never boxed in Hungary!It took decades before we saw each other again, but it didn't matter, whenever we met, it was like we were never apart.Besides work, sport remained an important part of our lives. You started to play golf in Australia, I started to play golf in the USA. When I visited you in November 1999 - after a long flight, you said, put down your suitcases and lets go play golf, "I can beat you now!" Traveling from the US winter to the Australian summer in 24 hours was hard but "lets go". Finally after a few holes we ended up in the clubhouse for some cold beer. There we agreed, there is no bad golfer, just slow golfer.
Two years later you visited me in the US. Of course we played golf again, my friends said, Olchi is a fast golfer, but Peter is faster. Olchi goes to the ball, aims and hits; Peter is faster, he goes to the ball and hits.
Once I asked you, how was golf today? You answered, we played 9 holes and I hit 6. What number is 6 for 9 holes? You said, I count only the good strokes.
You always had a great sense of humor.In our house you answered the telephone saying, "Pazmany residence, the butler is speaking". One of our son's friend was calling; he was stunned that we had butler.Last time in 2019 we met in Hungary. That was the last time we, the 3 brothers were together. Bela passed 2 years ago.During the last 2 -3 months we knew that time was running out. We talked almost daily, revived all the great times what we had together. At end of the last call, you said, the time is here, I am leaving. I told one more quick story about when you were 16, and you laughed. Finally you said "I am going to take this pill and it will be like ski jumping. After you start down the ramp, you can't stop. You have to fly!!!"Peter, I am the luckiest person in the world because you were my brother and we were really the best friends too. I miss you every minute.
Have a great flight!Olchi
