There’s a pretty strong Czech strain in Nebraska. I don’t know the whole story, but once Lloyd and I were in a tiny little town (Wilbur?) and someone had painted dainty, flowery, beautiful patterns all over the buildings. They were lovely and seemed so familiar.
At the Fourth of July parade in Seward, Czech queens ride in convertibles down the route, waving like beautiful little dolls. Our spot on the route keeps track of them like The Count from Sesame Street – “One! One Czech queen! Ah-ha-ha-ha!!”
This year, I dug up a book from the basement from my past. I’m not going to re-read it because the last few pages are torn away and my heart can’t deal with such predestined disappointment, but I remember the illustrations.
The book is The Good Master, and I vaguely remember that there is a little boy in Hungary who has a girl cousin who is coming to visit. He expects that she will be dainty and frail and she turns out to be a nightmare of independence. On the rare occasion that she does dress up for special. events (Easter?), she looks just like a Czech queen!