Noli me tangere

Tomislav Štulić, Toma(1934 -2017) – Sećanje na dragog roditelja / In memoriam of a dear parent

1 Jan , 2018  

Nikada nisam toliko obraćala pažnju na sivi šeširi karirano sivo odelo starijih  sugrađana u prolazu kao ove zime. I tako kad spazim nekog nalik tom opisu odmah mi iskoči  pred očima živa slika  mog  Tomislava, dragog tate.  Bio  je moj otac  nadasve nenametljiv   i tako  bez najave usporenim  hodom dok nije  potpuno usporio je i napustio svet  ove jeseni.

Jedno od tih proteklih dana već u svojim ozbiljnim godinama uđe Toma u stan zakači svoj šešir, okači sako naravno svoje omiljene novine pod miškom, spusti stvari, a uvek ih je bilo, jer tata je bio domaćin pravi  i blagim toplim glasom pita ima li koga u kući gde ste narode.  Voleo je moj tata društvo komšije, svoju decu uz sebe koliko god treba, uvek da ugodi, spremi nešto lepo za jelo, dočeka uz toplu reč i osmeh.  Spremi tako vredni starac  u osamdesetim povrće za zimnicu, kolio da se kiseli kupusa, spremi za turšiju i ajvar,  planira šta još treba od namirnica i svakodnevne hemije, možda da se zamene ramovi prozora,  da se nabavi za slavu. Voleo je i da pita za recept  komšinicu, zapiše,  popije koju kafu i orahovaču ujutro sa omiljenom komšinicom , i onda kad odmara popodne pusti svoju omiljenu  muziku na radiju, pevuši uz šlagere za  sva vremena i popunjava skandinavke do besvesti.

E da i ta Politika, sad je nekako po navici zbog njega i ja listam uz popodnevnu kafu

Moj omiljeni pukovnik u penziji znao je popričati sa komšijama, ništa nametljivo,  sa ponekim prodavcem iz kraja da čuje kakva je bila rodna godina. Nekada dok je išao do rodnog sela, bio pokretljiviji, živahniji boravio u vikendici, imao baštu na ognjištu svojih predaka, znao je živo da se ispriča sa seljacima u vozu  i u selu željan da čuje i vidi  iz prve ruke kakvog je roda  pšenica, kukuruz  jer on je gledao to za opšte dobro, a voleo je svoje korenove. Vojska ga je naučila nekim pravilima, vredno radi za dobrobit i vratiće se, uči, iskoristi znanje i misli unapred, i radi na tome,ali bez mnogo opuštanja. Ne samo zbog vojske, nego i karaktera, a možda i uticaja astrologije bio je to gospodin uvek sređen, elegantan, smernih i tamnijih tonova u stilu i odeći,  ali nikako samo opušteno, samo sportski, jer ne priliči i nekako nije to bilo za našeg Tomu.

Divno je pevao,  to mi je najživlje ostalo kao uspomena baršun u glasu, starogradski prizvuk, prijatan dublji tenor i omiljene ruske romanse “podmoskovske večeri” i te “bele nežne ruže” I pominjane omiljene kafane u Zagrebu i Beogradu. Ko zna da nije bilo vojske, akademije, elektrotehničkog fakulteta, I te tehničke uprave, premeštanja  po našoj velikoj zemlji  možda bi bio pravi profesionalni pevač,  al mu se nije dalo.

Tako su ga njegove kolege, prijatelji i upamtili u veselim prilikama zapeva i nekako razveseli opet nenametljivo i  skromno. Vredni i vedri moj tata ne samo u starosti, već i ranije nikad nije kukao i ako ga je bolelo  i ako je mozak usporio I kad je već bio bolestan i bez snage jednostavno oficirski  bi mi rekao tako mora biti i budi hrabra.

Ipak život je nerazumljiv, toliko borbe, reči, dela i on se uprkos svemu ugasi, to je istina koje me muči ove zime. Kao i u govoru za njegu na grobu  promiču mi u glavi reči moje napisane tada kad je kraj ljudskog života, onda sve postaje besmisleno i strašno i moraš naći snage da kažeš zbogom telu, al ipak dodajem sad ostaje to  sećanje, u srcu i taj sivi šešir i karirano odelo i topli osmeh za dobar dan.

napisala / done by Dr Valentina Štulić

I have never paid much attention to quilted suits and gray hats of my elderly fellow citizens of Belgrade. Not until this winter season. Lately, whenever I see an older gentleman matching the description I become overwhelmed by a picture of my late father, my dear dad Tom. Unobtrusively and humbly, just like a man he has always been, and without a hint or a notice he just slowed down until he just stopped and left the world this fall.

A few years down the memory lane – already in his late years, he would step into the apartment with his favorite daily newspaper under his arm, swinging his jacket in the corridor. He would hang his hat on the stand and leave the bags with groceries on the table. Dad was a hospitable man and he always carried a bag or two of groceries and home supplies. Then we would hear his gentle and warm voice asked – “Where you are people”? He loved a company of a neighbor and he preferred us, his children, to stay around him as much as we can. He was all about pleasing people around him, cooking a nice meal, welcoming everyone with a warm word and smile. Already in his eighties, he enjoyed preserving food for the winter, Serbian style – preparing sauerkraut casserole, peppers, carrots and cauliflower for “turšija” and “ajvar! Always taking care what is needed for the household, cleaning stuff and groceries, figuring out small home repair, buying stuff for the family saint day celebration. He enjoyed little things, an everyday joy – morning discussions about food recipes of neighbor next door over coffee and walnut brandy with and spending time resting, singing to the evergreen music on the radio persistently solving crossword puzzle. And, of course, reading the inevitable Politika daily newspapers. I kind of inherited the habit of mine , reading it over an afternoon coffee.

My favorite retired colonel enjoyed small-talking with neighbors and local street vendors of fruit and vegetable, learning about the yield and if it was a good year for the crops and food production. While he was younger, stronger and still in good spirit he used to go to his native village, stay in the cottage he built on the land of his ancestors and run his own garden. Getting there and back by the train, Tom used to easily engage in conversation with local people, chatting on and on about the crops and yields, not only from his own perspective, but to the welfare of the population in general. He loved his roots and origin. The army taught him some ground rules – work hard, be diligent and it will turn out well. Learn hard, use your knowledge and think things through well in advance. Always be prepared. I guess it was the combination of his military background, type of character, and perhaps astrology that defined the way he dressed. This gentleman’s style was elegant and humble, with prevailing darker colors. Relaxed but not overly sporty – it just wasn’t our Tom’s cup of tea.

He sang beautifully. My liveliest memory of him is that velvet in his voice, an old-fashioned tone, and a pleasant lower-tenor singing his favorite Russian romances like The Moscow Night Song and Delicate White Roses, a gentle Serbian evergreen mentioning his favorite taverns in Zagreb and Belgrade. Who knows, if there wasn’t for the military academy, faculty of electrical engineering, and technical management teaching that made him move across EX-Yugoslavia he might have become a professional singer. A small twist of fate that never happened.

His colleagues and friends remember him in many happy occasions, the way Tomislav used to cheer them up in his own unobtrusive and modest way.  Hardworking and cheerful, my dad was never a person that moans and complains, not even in his old age. Even when in pain, with slowed down mind, sick and without energy, he would simply just tell me in officer manner – you have to be brave and courageous, as this how it must be. 

Life is incomprehensible – so much struggle, words, deeds, and yet all in vain, it’s gone. It’s truth that is stuck in my mind this winter. And as in his funeral speech that I wrote – then when a human life comes to an end, when everything becomes meaningless and terrible, a soul must find strength to say goodbye to the body. A memory of a grey hat, quilted suit and a warm smile for a new day will remain in my heart forever.

 


3 Responses

  1. Davorin says:

    Pardon Milkica

    • Sećanja na Tomu says:

      Dragi Davorine,
      Sad tek vidim da si pročitao moj tekst o Tomislavu. Bas mi drago da se sećas i njega i Milkice tvoje rođake. I dalje smo na Novom Beogradu brat i ja
      I ja pamtim Karlovac, tetka Reziku- Tereziju, a u kontaktu sam i sa Bjeljinom i Pedjom , pomalo sa Vesnom u Zagrebu.
      Veliki Pozdrav
      Tina ili Valentina

  2. Davorin says:

    Oprostite na smetnji,i ja sam imao privilegiju slušati ,”podmoskovske večeri” subotom sam dolazio Milentije Popovića !
    Izuzetno drag,topao,jednostavan,i opet drag i topao ,kao i Milica !
    Zadnji put smo se sreli u Karlovcu 90-tih.
    Oprostite na smetnji !
    Cvitak Davorin (majka Terezija,sestra od bake Anke iz Zagreba)

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