WHY WRITE WORDS PART 1

I asked myself this before I wrote my first blog. The answer was simple—my dad. I’m inspired by dad. Will my blogs be unique? Well, yes, because they come from my dad and my passion for words.

History you ask? Okay. My dad was born in the Czech Republic and escaped during the Communist Rule in 1949, when he was 19 years old. With his good friend Louie, they came up with a daring and brave plan to escape the communist rule and get out of Czechoslovakia.

Between his house and the Austrian border was 3km of forest leading into the border which was an actual river.  In the middle of the night, under the cover of darkness, they crossed the river on an inflatable lifeboat. 

They did not dare tell their families, otherwise they risked them being badly hurt or they feared, killed.  A rogue Czech guide assisted them in getting into Austria with no documents or identification.

In Austria, Dad and Louie slept in a village overnight and in the morning they caught a train to Vienna where they stayed three days.

Vienna was divided into 4 parts – the English zone, the American zone, the Russian zone and the French zone.  They had to cross from the Russian zone into the safety of the American zone, which involved getting over a bridge, but the danger was that someone might ask for identification papers and they had none.

They got ready to cross the bridge.  The Czech guide told them to keep on walking and if asked for identification, just tell the Russian Communist guards, that they were sorry and in a rush.  He wished them the best of luck and left them to it.

Dad said as they started to cross the bridge, he felt nervous and his body was shaking so much that he couldn’t say a word and he had sweat pouring down his forehead.  They finally crossed the bridge into the American zone and amazingly, nobody asked any questions, the guards were too busy having a cigarette. 

Another guide took Dad and Louie by train to the city Linz which was part of the American zone.  When they arrived in Linz they decided to live in the American camp for a few weeks, where they were processed as refugees. 

Next stop a youth resettlement centre, then onto Italy, where the United Nations Refugee Organisation organised passage on a ship to Melbourne, Australia.

My dad – my inspiration.

Fast forward to 1977 and the next part of my story explains my passion on why write words.

So 3-2-1, take-off, my first blog has been launched.