JUNE 5, 2020 – I’d just sat down to write today’s post, when “ding”—another email arrived. The author was our good Czech friend, the inimitable Dr. Pavel Šebesta from Prague. The email was his first to me in eons. It was classic Pavel—pithy and packed with news and questions. Attached were bonuses . . . three recent family photos.
I knew a deferred response would become all too delayed. A mere acknowledgment and promise of follow-up wouldn’t stop the flood of diversions—this blog, client demands, administrative tasks, and other (deferred) correspondence, not to mention . . . mowing the lawn before it goes to seed. So, instead of writing my blog post, I wrote a long letter to Pavel.
We met in ancient times at a youth hostel in Delphi, Greece—early one evening in late June, 1979. I’d just sat down alone at a table of the hostel’s small, outside dining patio. At the next table sat another guy in his 20s; at a third table sat yet another of similar age. The latter character attempted to strike up conversation by asking in English (he’d heard us speak with the waiter) where we were from. The middle guy said, “Britain”; I, “US.”
“And where are you from?” I asked.
“Czechoslovakia.”
I felt as though I’d hit pay dirt. This was a decade before The Wall came down, yet here in the West was a guy my age on the loose from Communist Europe—someone who spoke English, no less! I had a million questions.
The Brit, meanwhile, revealed a shocking lack of curiosity. Having finished his meal, he got up and left. I invited the Czech to join me at my table. What ensued was a life-long friendship, including (in the old days), regular (censored) long-form correspondence, multiple visits to Prague and environs and further reunions in the U.S., including to our home in the Twin Cities, the cabin, and a ski trip to Utah. After The Wall came down, Pavel’s oldest son visited America and stayed with us for a week.
In intervening decades, the dust of life and work accumulated upon our friendship. Communications faded.
. . . Back there at the hostel, in the midst of our initial conversation in the waning light of the day, a trio of young Swedish women appeared on a balcony overlooking the patio. They called out to me—we’d met a few days earlier aboard the ferry from Brindisi to Piraeus. One complained mildly about a bothersome malady—a mean rash on her arm. I’d just learned that Pavel was fresh out of medical school, so I told the Swede she was in luck. Moments later Pavel attended to his first patient. He was as much an artist as he was a scientist; as reassuring in his manner as with his intelligence.
Over the decades since, Pavel has given abundantly as a father, cardiologist, scholar, artist, photographer, adventurer—all extraordinaire. The world is a much better place because of him.
Time to clear the dust and resume our friendship.
(Remember to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.)
© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
