Goodbye, János Térey!

Oops, dad! – that’s how we greeted each other most of the time, parodying and at the same time evoking our mutual friend, the good Norbert Haklik, in a deep, crackling voice, before sitting down once a month at the table of thinkers on Hold Street. The last couple of meetings were cancelled, but we were in the process of organising a new one. We were supposed to meet on 27 May, but we didn’t manage to coordinate with everyone.

For those who are interested, this was a semi-secret literary society that had been meeting for almost 20 years, and in the last line-up, besides Térey, Zsolt Koppány Nagy, Bálint Dobai, Mátyás Szöllősi and Olivér Sándor Murányi also appeared at the table.

The essence is that each of the listed ones had a alter ego here; we brought our better selves to these meetings And what was it all about anyway? Everything: political and literary current affairs, private life and, last but not least, literary texts. We were a group where we could rise above the current mess, the culture war, the cult camp, the writers’ union strategies, pretty much anything that could keep people apart. That’s why it was important for all of us, because whenever we felt the world was about to end, we would call the team together and over a drink we would always have a calming discussion.

János was undoubtedly the driving force, the oldest member of the team and the most active organiser until the last minute. And this is where this writing should start, why was this so important to him? We certainly knew him as that man, the friend who watches with concern, keeps us all informed, is up to date with all our writings, never short of ideas, optimism and faith. He always kept away from dilettantes, but at the same time he believed that there was a capacity for goodness and improvement in everyone, often warning us to be careful if we were too quick to take advantage of someone or something.

But now we have a reason to rebel. The best of the middle generation of our literature has gone, one of the greatest of all time. Full of life, full of plans, leaving behind family, children, friends and last but not least literature. But there is no one to rebel against, humility remains, as he would have taught. But I regret that he did not get a Kossuth Prize, I regret that he did not get the recognition he deserved. Not even half as big. But maybe we should leave that alone.

Those of us who know, have known for twenty-five years at least, who he is. But I am now saying goodbye to my friend, the fellow thinker from Hold Street, with whom we used to walk from Vörösmarty Square behind the Basilica to the Hold Street location at the end of each year, at the last meeting of the year, full of Christmas love and faith, as we once did as children. We always read a poem either at Vörösmarty Square or at the Basilica. We are the Miku! – said János, leading the line with a happy face. Then came Christmas, the New Year, the new meeting. So far, we have known that this will always be the case. Now we know that it is not.

Oops! Goodbye, János!