Good evening everyone,

One summer day, I arrived at the office in my standard intern uniform: T-shirt and shorts. To be fair, this was less a fashion statement and more of practicality as there was no air conditioning in the office.

The moment I walked in, László looked at me and, without even saying good morning, asked:
“Do you have any other clothes?”

I was instantly embarrassed. I thought maybe I misunderstood office culture. Maybe there WAS a dress code. Then he quickly added:
“We need to go to Washington.”

I said, “Okay, I’ll go home and change.”
“No time,” he quickly responded. “We have to go now.”

At that exact moment, the door opened and in walked Memi néni.

For those of you who never met her, Memi néni was like everyone’s grandmother—warm, calm, and endlessly kind—but with the strength of a superwoman. She was nearly eighty at the time, and apparently our emergency wardrobe department.
“Go home Memi and bring a dress,” László told her as Memi néni conveniently lived next to the office.
“But László,” I said, “I don’t even have shoes.”
“Memi, bring shoes too.”

This was classic HHRF logic: every personal inconvenience ranked FAR below the mission.

Now, I should mention that Memi néni’s fashion choices were perhaps not what Washington lobbyists usually wore. And the shoes she brought were about two sizes smaller than my feet.

But details were never allowed to interfere with purpose.
Within thirty minutes, we were in a cab and on our way to Washington.
And that trip mattered. We helped prevent Romania from receiving permanent Most Favored Nation status at that time, which allowed continued pressure and awareness regarding the human rights issues faced by Hungarians in Transylvania.

So yes—sometimes democracy advances in borrowed shoes.

It is an honor to be here celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Hungarian Human Rights Foundation.

I think everyone here understands that once you are HHRF, you are always HHRF.

Over the last thirty years, my family and I have stayed connected in many ways: helping recover a stolen painting, cleaning the the Duna Travel office, hosting HHRF interns, and participating in many activities that were sometimes fun, sometimes exhausting,but always memorable.

About two years ago, I officially passed the baton to my son, Matte, who is sitting right here.

He continued the family tradition of working in a non-air-conditioned office—only this time in Budapest.

But jokes aside, I am deeply grateful for the opportunity he had to work with Emese, Zsolt, Viktor, and Gabi over the past summers. I am also incredibly proud that his experiences with HHRF helped inspire his decision to study policy and international relations. Before he begins his studies at Duke University, he is taking a gap year in Hungary focusing on youth civic engagement.

That is the real legacy of HHRF.

Not only the victories, campaigns, and causes—but the way one generation inspires the next generation to care, to act, and to continue the work.

So tonight, I simply want to say thank you.

Thank you for letting me play even a small role in this extraordinary organization. Thank you for the lifelong friendships—especially with Emese and so many others. And thank you for proving for fifty years that commitment, courage, and community can outlast any challenge.

Boldog születésnapot, HHRF—and may the next fifty years be just as impactful… even with less than perfect air conditioning.

Thank you.