The Day Václav Havel died

He did not have the girth of then German chancellor Helmut Kohl or the bushy eyebrows of Theodor Waigl, whose looks probably fascinated most German children of my generation. Mr. Havel seemed different. Even from a TV screen, he exuded kindness and humor, and his words sounded less rehearsed than those of other politicians. More honest, from the heart. Of course, I wasn’t able to really grasp that then.

Years later, I came to understand what Mr. Havel had done for the country my mother and father escaped. Later, whenever I saw him on TV, I felt proud of my Czech heritage, proud that my parents’ native country had such a charismatic, even loveable, leader.

Today, news outlets around the world are covering Václav Havel’s death. At the time of writing this, many politicians and writers have already expressed their condolences. Across the Czech Republic, people are out on the streets lighting candles for Mr. Havel.

I will leave the analyses of his significance and listing his countless achievements to the mainstream media. I will listen to the many wonderful stories about Mr. Havel that his friends, fellow politicians and allies are telling on Czech TV today. For example that he cooked tea for the secret police agents who were spying on him and other dissidents outside of his country house on a cold winter’s night. Today, I will light a candle, too, and think of what Václav Havel did for me, for my family.

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