Five Minute Friday: Today and Thank You

I walk past him in the cereal aisle.  His walk tired, deliberate.  His shoes black and polished, coat gray and an older style.  His hair just as gray.  His glasses black plastic, like my grandparents.

It isn't his glasses, his walk, or anything else that draws me to look him in the eyes.

He wears a baseball cap with the name of his regiment.  It's right there, in your face.  I served my country.

He is the same age as my Dziadek, the same age as my husband's grandfathers.  He was where they were.  You can tell.  In the trenches, fighting, swearing, praying, watching comrades fall.

My older daughter looks at him and smiles.  He smiles back and starts to hobble on, pushing his cart.

"Thank you for serving, sir," I tell him.  His eyes tear up a little.

My heart breaks.  I'm sure his has, many times over.

He nods a little, jerks his head a bit and walks on.

I walk on and begin to tell my daughters why I told him that.  What his hat meant.  Why you should respect those who served.  My family's own story serving and my husband's family stories.

The world's story.  And it's long, complicated.  I stop from telling them too much.  Let them have their innocence just a little bit longer.

My father's wisdom rings in my ears as I think about the little bit of food that was in that veteran's cart. 


The elderly and veterans should be taken care of.  They worked their whole lives and sacrificed everything for the next generation.



Na razie...




Today is both Veteran's Day and Poland's Independance Day.  How will you be observing?

An Interesting Article:  Homeless Veterans, By the Numbers



I joined Five Minute Friday today and just wrote for five minutes without pause what I feel.  You can join on The Gypsy Mama.

Wordless Wednesday: A Fairy Charm

The past couple of weekends, we were at Bristol Renaissance Faire.  We were there last year every weekend it was open. 

As usual, we had a wonderful time and learned a lot.  About safety in public, a lot about history, practicing social skills and our manners, that only people who don't do bad things have the privilege of seeing magical folk such as fairies, and other things.

I have a feeling that my two daughters will want to work there as they get older.  My older daughter has already asked if we could try to work as "villagers" next year so that she could be there more often.

Because, after all, she was given a magical charm made just for her and her sister to be able to see fairies better...

Na razie...

I also wanted to mention that in no way was I compensated by Bristol Renaissance Faire or any other related or non related business or person for this post.  I am sharing this entirely because we went and had a wonderful time and wanted to share it.



The US Becoming Old Poland? Let's Get Serious

Article first published as The US Becoming Old Poland? Let's Get Serious on Technorati.


I read an article yesterday on the Washington Post comparing the current US political climate to Old Poland.  This article is one day old and includes an explanation by Mieczyslaw B. Biskupski, author of Hollywood's War with Poland, 1939-1945 (which I am currently reading and highly recommend to anyone interested in any of the following: the political history of Hollywood, Communism and the US government and/or Hollywood, Communism's affects on our society and/or political agendas during and after WWII, corruption in US politics and Hollywood, propaganda used on Americans by Hollywood, an indisputable event of racism in Hollywood and US government, etc.).

I have to react a bit to this article.  The idea of comparing the US political situation to "Old Poland" seems a bit far fetched to me.  But then, I am not a historian or political analyst.

Here is what I do know:

The Liberum Veto was first used in 1652. 

The world's countries were, at that time, run by kings who were given the right to rule by being born into it.  They would tell their subjects what to do, spend the taxes (which they set the amount based on what they wanted, roughly) how they saw fit, and expected loyalty with punishment of death for those who opposed.  Kings then were also plotted against by those who could politically, and through family connections, outmaneuver and kill the King and hopefully seize power for themselves.  Nobility were the only ones who remotely stood the chance of accomplishing this. 

There typically was no middle class. 

The extremely vast populace of any given kingdom were peasants, poor hard working people who labored under the abuse of the nobility (and typically under their protection in the case of an invading army, but also had to fight in such wars and were first to lose their lives as they were "expendable"), paid taxes for the "privilege" of working the lands owned by the nobility and were lucky to not go hungry daily. 

Also, 1652 and into the 18th century, the world was in the middle of the "Little Ice Age" (mid 13th century to the 1800s).

The Liberum Veto is considered by many to be one of the precursors to the voting power of Senates the world over.  And it came early.  The Age of Enlightenment was in the 18th century with origins in the 1650s-1700, when intellectuals began creating ideas like this of people having more control over a kingdom besides one King.

Sure, the Liberum Veto wasn't the best idea in the world.  But, considering how most Kings were ruling their kingdoms with no input from those around them, well, let's just give credit where credit is due.  This was the beginning political experiment, and you cannot succeed without some measure of failure.

Also, the Partitions of Poland were not primarily caused by Liberum Veto.  They were caused by Russia, Austria, and Germany.  Blaming the disappearance of Poland from the maps of Europe and the subsequent subjugation of it's peoples, and the abuses that followed, is like blaming the rape victim because she had a few drinks.  Like blaming the victim, not the bully.

Like others, I find it irritating that in the current state of the US political climate, the media pays no attention to Poland, especially considering what can be learned from Poland.

The most we get is a quip about comparing a supposedly completely corrupt system of government by Poland's nobility (which, yes, to an extent, some of them were corrupt, but you have to really dig into the history of it and who those people were to better understand what happened and why).  A quip doesn't cut it.

Some flaws in this thinking are the following:

The US people have the right to vote.  Granted, trying to understand politicians gibberish during election time is like trying to understand a foreign language, and the voter turnout for the last election was a measly 64%.

But, let's be clear, supposedly the US government is set up that our politicians working in Washington, D.C. work for us, the People.  We don't work for them.  Depending on how you view the way things have been going lately. 

The politicians have, according to just about everyone I have talked to, been doing whatever they want.  But part of it is because, in the end, we would rather watch something entertaining on TV after a hard days work than paying attention to what they are doing and holding them accountable.  Which, I can't blame anyone for feeling that way.  After all, they are wealthy and making deals behind closed doors and speak "politician".

How to hold them accountable?  Well, in my average-everyday-American opinion, for one, we can hold them accountable for our current budget situation and not allow them to be voted back into to office this coming year and then doing whatever they want with our budget.  After all, there is the fiscal trigger.

We also have the right to assemble and tell Congress what we want.  As in, we can go there and tell them, "You know, you basically failed, sooooo...  We don't think you should get paid this year and, no, we aren't voting you in again." 

Or, we can go there and say, "Hey guys, great job!  High fives all around!"  Or, whatever. 

Europe, and the rest of the world, did not have these sorts of rights during "Old Poland".

Alright, I've basically proved that I have a passion for politics but am not versed in it (thank God!). 

Here is the point I believe this article is insinuating:

If we don't start caring as voters, our rights will begin to be stripped away, until we are in the same situation as peasants in the 17th century.

Class segregation has become more and more prominent, with a quickly growing gap between the wealthy American and the average American.  I haven't met a single person who sees this as a "good thing".

It is becoming harder and harder to understand what our politicians are up to anymore.  Between entertainment distractions, an increasingly more and more complex government and it's laws, and a global economic crisis that just.won't.stop, it's no wonder some are feeling this way.

With books published like Third World America, by Arianna Huffington, which it can't hurt to read, it seems that it is not just a handful of individuals with this concern. 

By the way, did you know that the term "Third World" does not mean a poor country but, rather, is a term coined during the Cold War to mean those countries who are not First World (on the side of America and "democratic-industry" or Capitalism) or Second World (on the side of the USSR and Communism)?  I definitely believe Mrs. Huffington used those terms for the title of her book since many people associate "Third World" to mean a country with no clean running water, not enough food, and squalid living conditions.

In the end, what can the media actually pay attention to regarding Poland and maybe the US Congress can "learn themselves somethin'"?  This paragraph:

This reminded me of the call by the Solidarity movement in Poland calling for "[the] bringing the country out of its crisis situation by the following means: a) making public complete information about the social-economic situation. b) enabling all social classes to take part in discussion of the reform programme".

What do you think?




Notes:

If you follow me on facebook, you can read some people's reactions to the Washington Post article.
Google the words "parliament polish nie pozwalam" and see what you come up with.  Here are some of the articles I found which were anywhere from two days old to a couple of years old, leading me to realize that this comparison is not a new idea:

A Republic, If We Can Keep It

Insejm in the Senate

Can Barack Obama kill the climate pirates?

Wordless Wednesday: A Nature Preserve

We found this park to go for a walk in.  I had to take a photo and share of the entrance.  It reminded me of many places in Europe...

Na razie...

Letter To Heaven: Dear Beloved Polish Pope (Part 1)

I have no doubt your final place is in Heaven.  None in my heart.

I know your papal name was John Paul II and your birth name was Karol Wojtyla.  Those two names will live in infamy.  But I doubt that you ever seeked fame.  For you, it was never fame.  It was about reaching out to others and helping them find God.

Millions of men, and women, have attempted this in history.  This in itself is not amazing or different, exactly.  Those people, I'm sure all or at least most, believed in their message and in their God.  So there is nothing unusual in that either.

Yet, in my heart, I feel you did so much more.

Certainly, you should be given credit for uniting the Polish people.  But that statement to the unaware ear sounds so empty. 

One could claim a person uniting the people of the US.  But it is not a country which for over a century did not exist on maps and only lived in the hearts of Poles and in the music of Chopin.  It is not a country on who's soil The Great War was fought, where the sons' blood was spilled defending soil which they were not even allowed to claim as their own.  It is not a country which was finally given back her rights as a free and independent country for only 21 years before the Nazis and WWII came and tore her apart again.  And then had it's lands and people handed over to another country who's government had no interest in the welfare of the people.

No, to say you united the Polish people is not a fair statement to say at all.

I will say that to a people who were battered but never allowing themselves to be called beaten, you brought light and reminded us that there was hope and good in the world and that God loved us and everyone else.

I grew up hearing your name every single day of my life.  Your name, Karol, is a family name for us as it is for many Poles now.  In our family, at least 3 people are named for you.  Not because we liked the name and it was just a nice name.  Karol is a nice name, certainly, but rather, several family members were named after you to remember a great man in human history.  To capture and daily remind us of a moment in human history.  Of a feeling.

A feeling that, well, I lack the right words to capture and explain.  Because you are so much more than one word, than a paragraph, an essay, an entire library of books. 

You taught us inner faith the way my own father taught me about the world.  Through debate, questions offered for questions, through helping lead our minds and hearts to our own personal truth and faith which just telling us would never create the same effect.

Thank you.

Continued next time...

After Chernobyl

It has been 25 years since the Chernobyl disaster in Ukraine, to the day. 

25 years ago, Ukraine, like Poland and other countries, was part of the USSR for 40 years already.  The details of that, I won't get into.  That is a discussion for another day and could be talked about for an entire lifetime without many changing their perspectives and grasping one another's feelings on the subject.

Instead, I will share with you my personal experiences regarding Chernobyl.

We had been in the USA for almost 4 years at this time.  My little brother was about 3 years old.  He is American born.  At this time, I was almost 6 years old.  Not yet in school.

My parents started saying words over and over which meant nothing to my young mind.  "Chernobyl", "Nuklearny", "Energia jadrowa".  And words I knew.  "Ukraine", "Sovieci", "Murderstwo", "Makabra", "Boga".

My mother was crossing herself and crying.  My father was smoking more cigarettes (outside, never inside around us children and always thinking we never saw it) than usual.  My parents were whispering a lot and glancing at us children playing and walking into another room to talk.

Phone calls to Poland were made.  I would hate to imagine how expensive that phone bill was for them, since I knew they easily paid $100 for a half hour phone call at the time.

The news was on a lot.

It was as though the air was electric.  Something was going on but I didn't know what.  I asked but my parents answered me the way they did when I asked about our leaving Poland.  "One day when you are older and can understand and not be angry or blame anyone, I will tell you."

They never explained it to me.  I was never told by my parents about the Chernobyl disaster.  Instead, I learned about it in passing in school and the subject called to me.  I learned about it on my own.

I learned that the sarcophagus now containing the radiation at Chernobyl has an expected lifetime of 30 years and that a newer, more long term solution should have started being created 25 years ago in order to meet the deadline.  I learned that as of yet, funds are still being raised for it.  I can't blame Ukraine.  But that is another discussion about a country's economic aftereffects from being under the USSR for so many years.

When the Japanese nuclear disaster occurred recently, my Ciocia revealed to me a bit about how my family was affected by Chernobyl.

She said thoughts that truly struck home with me.  "People would go outside and not be able to catch their breathe.  Some people got throat cancer suddenly.  Skin cancer.  Other cancers.  Teeth started suddenly falling out of the mouths of healthy people.  Hair fell out for some.  Old people got sick.  Children got thyroid cancer.  Babies bron a few months later, some weren't lucky.  Maybe it wasn't from Chernobyl but it was a terrible coincidence."

I didn't know what she meant at first, but learned later that there were some cases of elevated levels of Downs Syndrome and Neural Tube Defects, etc. in certain areas of population.  Of course, that made sense to me since fetuses are so vulnerable during pregnancy.

My Ciocia was not the first or the last to say such words.  But to hear a very intelligent woman who I respect highly and who I know is not a sensationalist or prone to hysteria in any way, that is what hits home.

I hope the world does not face such a disaster again.  But while hoping against such an event, the only solution I can ever think of is to say "No" to Nuclear power.  Yet, who am I?  I am no government official, I am not a rich company or investor.  I am nobody who can make a difference. 

So, all I can do is pray to God...

A Cemetery in a Small Village in the Polish Countryside and WWII

My first experience seeing, feeling, and understanding the effects of WWII on Poland and myself was not while reading history books, or watching television, or talking to my Dziadek.  At those moments, WWII was an abstract idea, surreal, not tangible.  It just didn't seem real.  It was as distant as the Revolutionary War.

I was in a village visiting a Ciocia ("Aunt" in Polish) the first moment it really dawned on me what WWII meant.  What WWII was in terms of a human event, in terms of my family's history. 

This was my first trip back to Poland.  And it was life changing.



I stand in a small cemetery.

This is not a cemetery in America.  There are no artificial flowers, Styrofoam wreaths, and other such grave ornaments.  There aren't miles of meticulously manicured grass, limited plants and trees and bushes, tombstones flat on the ground so that from the highway running next to it, you are not reminded that it is a cemetery.  There is no mausoleum of hundreds of unrelated bodies.

This is a cemetery in a small village in Poland.  On a path travelled for centuries by villagers as they go about life.

This is the village's cemetery for centuries.  The local Catholic church towers over the village, as all Catholic churches in Poland tend to do.  The path to the cemetery had been lined with trees, tall grasses, and fields.  Not empty fields, but fields planted and growing food, some with cows and other livestock.  Farmer's fields growing what the village would be eating and making a living from. 

The walk had been beautiful, peaceful.  I knew we were going to visit a grave of some family member.  I don't know who.  Perhaps it is my other Dziadek's but I'm sorry to say I can't remember.

It is a warm sunny summer day.  There is a sign above the cemetery.  I don't remember what it says. 

The cemetery is surrounded by trees and cool shadows.  At first, the cemetery seems small.  All the graves have tall tombstones and stone covers.  Many have bushes and flowers planted around them.  Some have candles on the covers. 

Behind the cemetery is a once white stucco house with a red roof.  The yard is bursting with flowers.  Clothes hang on the line, gently moving with the warm summer breeze.  A cat, dark brown, peeks at me from under a bush.  Winks and crosses the yard toward the other side of the house.

Browning tall grass bends and bobs it's seedheads as the wind plays across them on one half of the cemetery, to my left.  All around, Nature is singing and celebrating Life.  Yet, I stand in a cemetery, with tombstones marking places where the dead rest, to my right.  To the left, tall grasses.

I look around, curious.  Begin reading tombstones.  Walking down each row.  So many names that never would sound "normal" in the USA but names which I grew up hearing around me.  And many with my first name.  "Katarzyna".

I always loved my first name.  I thought it was elegant, exotic and yet not strange, classic.  But until I visited Poland, I had never ever heard of anyone else having the same name, let alone met anyone.

I begin to pick small yellow flowers that were growing wild in a section of the cemetery.  They are small and beautiful.  They seemed so joyous while I walk around this final resting site.  I place a flower on one particular grave which has my same first name.  It feels right.  I begin to do the same for others.

The dates in this cemetery go back at least to the 1600's, with some faded, covered in moss.  The idea begins to hit me, as it does everyone at some point in their life, that one day I am going to be a marked tombstone somewhere.  The thought makes me uncomfortable.  And the more "Katarzyna"'s I read on tombstones, the more the idea hits me.

I place more flowers on graves.  This urge is primal.  It needs to be followed through.  It is the root for All Souls Day.  This is my Polish blood, whispering to me in a way I had never heard before.

The sun shines on my head.  On the flowers.  On grasshoppers and insects flying away from me with each step.

I step to the other half of the cemetery, grass as tall as I am in most places.  Wild flowers grow here, blue, yellow, red.  I start to pick more flowers.  My mother and Ciocia look at me and laugh.  They ask what I am doing and realize I have placed flowers on every grave that looks slightly neglected or has my first name.

They don't understand and I can't explain it.  Not to them.  They grew up around here.  Their names are normal to them and people around them, this cemetery is like all cemeteries to them, their history in the soil they tread is normal to them.  To me, this is so strange. 

I feel something that I had not understood before start to creep over me but I can't explain it.  I just can't.  I turn away from them and continue what I'm doing.  I don't care what they think.  It doesn't matter.  This is something spiritual I must wrestle with that they never had to.  I'm jealous of them.

In that area of the cemetery which I assume to be the empty section meant for future graves, I begin to pick flowers.  A few blades of grass move.  I find a tombstone.  My breathe stops.  I look around more carefully, moving wildflowers and grass out of the way and find many many more.  More than in the other, more cared for section of the cemetery.  And almost all their death dates are during WWII.  And there are many other Katarzynas.

I look at my mother and ask "Why hasn't the caretaker mowed around these graves?" 

My mother looks at me with a strange look in her eyes.  I think now it dawns on her, at least a bit, how much I just don't understand.  Not just in life.  I'm still a child, after all.  But about my family's history, Poland's history.  The culture.  Little subtle things that I could never really learn about living in the US.

She replies in a quiet voice, "Kasiu, there is no caretaker.  In Poland, the family cares for each grave."

I point to the graves, some knocked over or sitting crooked.  "But in this village, why don't they take care of these graves also?  The tombstones are broken, falling over.  The grasses are so tall.  The dead must be sad."

My Ciocia doesn't understand.  She waves a hand dismissively.  I don't like her.  "They are Jews.  Some Poles.  Their families left us here with their graves when they fled to America and never came back to care for their family (meaning their dead).  You don't understand how much work is to be done here.  People are too tired to care for more graves."

"But a lot of these are children.  And how can they be Jews?  I see a lot of Katarzyna's."

My mother looks at me, shakes her head, and says, "Kasiu, that's how it is."  She turns herself to end the conversation.  I wanted a hug from someone who understood what I was wrestling with.  My brother was there, he was walking around as well but he was quiet.  And he didn't touch any graves.  I don't know what he was thinking.  I should have reached out to him but didn't know what to say.

I continue walking around the graves.  I'm angry.  I see that there is a group of graves which all share the same death day.  Another grave has a Star of David.  So many are children.

I realize these people were killed by Nazis.  I don't know what the exact event was.  Perhaps I never will.  But first hand, for the first time ever, I see the effects of WWII.  In a village where some family member of mine is buried and therefor a part of my blood is from. 

It could have been over 100 graves, I'm not sure.  But there were so many.

I continue to walk and begin pulling up grass.  I leave the flowers.  But the grass I start to pull up and toss into a pile in the back of the cemetery that must have been from others tending graves before.

I keep pulling up the grave.  Graves which had not seen light in many years begin to bask in sunshine.  I know my Ciocia is upset.  Perhaps I'm making someone else look bad.  I don't care.

I would not want to have my final resting place forgotten.

But then, which is worse?  Paying a stranger to care for the cemetery and family not feeling the need to come visit and care over your final resting place?  Or being forgotten in a corner of a cemetery.

But not really forgotten.  I understand that this is an event which still rests freshly in the memories of the Babcias and Dziadeks of this village, they saw it first hand.  It can never be forgotten.  No matter how horrible.  But life must go on.  And if caring for those graves chokes people up all over again, remembering such a horrible event in human history, perpetrated right there, in their own backyards, in the backyards and fields which for centuries had been in their family, can you imagine the feeling?

Graves continue to be pulled free from the wildlife taking over them.  Light brings more names back to the present, reminders of others who passed away, who I don't know.  But I will always remember them.

I keep pulling grass and picking flowers...

If you really knew me, you would know that...

when I wear all black, something sad happened.  It isn't that black is my color for depression, it's my color for mourning and only for mourning.  Black just doesn't work well when you are outside with children all day, it shows dust and pollen and all the perils of looking pretty in Nature.


Today I wear black.  Even on our walk today in the woods, I wore it along with the silver pin my Babcia gave me of the Polish Eagle.  One year ago today, I wore black.


One year ago today, I turned on the computer, searched the daily world news and fell on my knees.  In shock, I searched throughout several news sites, thinking it had been a hoax.  I turned on the TV looking for coverage, of which I believe only BBC and perhaps CNN were the only news stations to cover the tragic event which was choking my throat with tears.


The President of Poland had been killed in a plane crash at Smolensk, along with his wife and 94 others.  The other victims included  Ryszard Kaczorowski, the last President of Poland in exile, the Military Chiefs of Staff (Army, Air force, Navy), the Head Army Chaplain, The national bank governor, The Head of the National Security Bureau, a Deputy Foreign Minister, three Deputy Parliament speakers, Olympic Committee head, the civil rights commissioner Janusz Kochanowski, Presidential Aide, widely known national lawmakers (including core members of the Law and Justice party), Bishops, Priests, relatives of the Katyn Massacre victims, etc.


Smolensk.  The word had held a certain meaning behind it before in Polish history and culture.  It also held a place in Russian, Lithuanian, and Mongolian culture.  With French culture, due to it's ties with Napoleon.  With German culture, for the Battle of Smolensk during WWII.  It was one word but like many such words in that area of the world, it meant more than just a city.


The people on the Tu-154 were on their way to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the Katyn Massacre.


Katyn.  Another word which belies deep meaning for many people. 


To say Katyn is not to talk about a place on the map.  It is an event in human history which for a long time was denied by perpetrators, collaborators, and other countries simply because the discovery of it was not convenient to them.  It is a tragic event.  Katyn is said with reverence, a deep dark pool in the Polish subconscious of a reminder that the first line of the National Anthem is "Jeszcze Polska nie zginęła" (Poland is not yet lost).


Now, Smolensk, irregardless of what we shall finally find out to be the truth behind the tragic event, is forever tied to Katyn.


If you knew me, you would understand that even if this means nothing to you, this means something to me.


And I would expect you to grasp this on a level many comprehend.  And many, many more do not.


Imagine (and I fervently pray that this never were to happen) the President of the United States, his wife, the Chiefs of our Military (All branches), the Leader of the Secret Service, the Leader of the CIA, some of the most important Bishops and other priests of our country (assuming that the USA was more devout to the church on a 1,000 years of history level), the Head of the Senate and the House of Representatives, a couple of Supreme Justices, the Secretary of State, some prominent civil rights activists, lawmakers, and other important figures in the US culture today, along with victims of some tragic event in US history perpetrated by an invading force who had tried, with the help of another invading force, to wipe the USA from the face of this world 70 years prior. 


All flying to mark that tragic event in hopes of remembering and moving forward with their prior enemy toward a greater future. 


And the plane were to crash.


The world would stop.  The world would mourn.  One year later, we would all be talking about the event, with much deeper sadness and awe than we do the tragedy of September 11, 2001.


If you really knew me, you would know that I never expect a pity party.  But that I do expect people to pay respect for any country's loss, especially on that caliber. 


You would know that I expect myself to behave with respect toward a person's loss as well.


You would know that saying "but you don't live in Poland, you were basically raised in the US" will make me think very lowly of you.


You would know that I expect people to be humane toward one other, empathetic, sympathetic.  And that sometimes, like today, I am disappointed...

Ze Bloc Blogs

I have been on Twitter and googling for some time, searching for other Mamas online who share in my experiences, history and food preferences.  I was trying to follow the advise I have heard so many times about blogging, you know the term "Find your tribe".  Oh so much easier said than done.

A couple of days ago, a conversation between several very talented Mama bloggers and myself led to the Bloc Blogs.  Or more specifically Ze Bloc Blogs.

What is Ze Bloc Blogs?  Some of us are Lithuanian, others Russian, Polish, etc.  We all share a special connection.  We all share a common heritage of being (or being married to someone) from countries once called the USSR, and of course, a love for herring.  In fact, our darling mascot, Xsusha, is a part of our badge.

If you are a fellow blogger who would be interested in supporting and conversing with fellow women who are from Central or Eastern Europe, grab our button and visit each of us as we share our stories. 

Some stories are about certain recipes served for particular occasions, or washing floors by hand with a rag because that's what we know best, or your father's apendisitis under Communism (I haven't shared that story yet, have I?), or even your travels back. 

Of course, that is not all we write about, but you get the idea.

Whatever they may be, these women are funny, smart, and have a different viewpoint worth reading as they raise their children.

Classy Chaos (Polish)

Motherhood in NYC (Russian/Jewish)

Vicki Boykis (Russian/Jewish)

She Suggests (Ukrainian/Jewish)

Like the Vodka (Married to the Russian)

Rima Rama (Lithuanian)

Mom Photographer:  Ewa Samples (Polish, but we will forgive her for living in Always-Sunny-California)



Of course, this list is intended to grow...  Enjoy!  And to my fellow Bloc Blogger Mamas, I raise my vodka glass and say "Na Zdrowie!"

Poland's Decision to Suspend Compensation Plans for WWII Victims

I should be writing a recipe about Polish Creamed Green Peas and another about raising a bi-lingual child in the USA, but...

Right now, there is a controversial decision by the Polish government being discussed around the world.  The decision to suspend compensation plans for real estate seized by Nazi Germany and then by the USSR Communists.

If you haven't heard about it, I asked Poland.gov.pl's facebook fan page administrator about it and she kindly gave me the following links:

http://www.ejpress.org/article/49652

http://thenews.pl/national/artykul151246_polands-chief-rabbi-rails-against-restitution-backdown.html

http://www.haaretz.com/jewish-world/jewish-congress-condemns-poland-s-decision-to-halt-property-restitution-1.349366

First, I need to address something I am noticing in the first article, and has been a trend throughout some other articles, is the term "post-war Polish communists".  Whoever wrote this article must not know their history.  Otherwise, I can not fathom how the USSR, the Soviet Communists, can be mistaken for the Polish government, as the term "post-war Polish Communists" (as a side note, I always thought you capitalized the word Communist) implies. 

To me, it smacks of the same lack of understanding and perhaps even purposeful rewriting of history as the "Polish Concentration Camps" issue, which Mr. Alex Storozynski fought against recently with his effective petition.

I acknowledge there were some Poles who were Communists.  But let's get something clear.  There were also Jewish Communists, American Communists, Ukrainian Communists, British Communists, etc.  That doesn't mean that those countries were Communist.  And if I recall correctly, the USSR was in control of Poland, as well as other countries, and was a Communist government.

Back to the point, I wanted to share a conversation I had with a friend once.  He was originally from South Africa and his family were Polish Jews.  He has since moved back to South Africa but he, my husband and myself had the chance to spend some great afternoons together hiking and discussing Nature, History, Cultures, and all sorts of other interesting subjects.

One day, we were discussing his Polish roots.  His father was born in Poland and fled to South Africa from the German Nazis as he was Jewish.  I can't fault him for that, I would have done the same.  In fact, my non-Jewish Babcia on my father's side fled the Nazis as well, first to France, then to the US, then back to Poland once the Nazi madness was over.

The discussion continued to his father deciding to return to Poland for a time.  He wanted his property back.  This was about ten years ago.  Our friend went on to say that the villagers treated his father rudely and refused to give him back the estate.

Here is what I think on that subject.  Now, this is just my opinion.  Not the opinion of all Poles, Polish Americans, or Americans.  Only mine.

WWWII ended in 1945.  Ten years ago, this would have been 56 years ago.  I understand that some time passes before someone extremely traumatized by such events can return.

But I learned something from my father, which has guided me in a lot of my views in life.  Always look at the big picture before deciding which side you sit on.  And religion and fact are just part of that. Human emotion are also a part of that.

So, I listened to what he said, and visualized Poland as I knew her.  Only in 1989 did Poland finally gain her freedom from Communist Russia.  Ten years ago, this would have been 12 years of freedom. 

If you have not been to a former Communist country and not listened to it's people what it was like, you have no idea.  The way my Babcia sums it up is "There was no toilet paper.  No chocolate for the children.  You stood in line for hours only to find out the store had only one bag of potatoes to sell and they were rotten."  That's why my parents fled with me to Austria, and later to the US.  Can you imagine?

And no, this was not Poland's own doing.  This is what every country suffered through under the Communist regime which dictated from Moscow.

Also, when Poland's government fled in exile to Britain in order to keep fighting the Nazis, she placed her entire Treasury in the "trustworthy" care of Switzerland.  All of which was stolen (or handed over to, whichever way your history book states it) by the Nazis.  At the time when I had this conversation with our friend, I had read and heard that when Poland was reimbursed (a lot but not reimbursed all, as I recall) her stolen treasury, the Polish government then handed the money to fund the creation of the Israeli government.  At this time, I cannot find any proof of this anywhere.  But if this is true, that is an amazing gesture.

Now, let's imagine a village in Poland after WWII.  Homes destroyed, the population traumatized by the horrors which were dealt to the local residences at the hands of the German Nazis and the Soviet soldiers.  They are told that the treaty for the ending of this war included handing over Poland to the Soviets.  Life is hard.  Nazi concentration camps in Poland are for a while used by the Soviets.

People are freed from concentration camps and not given a direction or help by their "liberators" and simply wander the countryside, mentally still in the camps.  Slowly, painfully, life goes on.  Poland picks herself up as a people, though once again, no longer a country, removed off the map of Europe.  Again.

Time passes.  There are times when it's not so bad anymore.  When life is full of promise and hope.  Other times, there is oppression and people by the hundreds of thousands again die of starvation, or are sent to Siberia, or just never heard from again.

The little village lost half of it's residences during WWII.  Now, the question is this...

Should the houses have stayed empty all this time?  When people like my grandparents were on a waiting list for about 5 years, waiting to be given a small apartment because so much of Poland had been destroyed.  Buildings, homes, places to live.  When people were thankful to be given an apartment the size of my living room.

Should the houses of the WWII victims stayed empty, waiting in hope that someone, a relative of some kind would return to claim it?  5 years later.  15 years later.  55 years later.

Should the fields have not been worked in the meantime?  Cows, horses, pigs of the victims not eaten by a starving populace in the meantime?

I know what the Bible says.  And that is not stealing.  If you think the person is dead and your children are starving, do you let them starve?  Or tell the Soviet government no when they assign you that house?  Do you think that is what the Bible teaches us to do?

Later on, when the new owners decide to sell the property, as they 20, 30, 55 years later, might want to, do they not have that right?  Do the new owners not have claim to that property when they pay for it with money, as the old owners did?  They pay taxes to the government, care for the property, live and die in that property. Just as the victims of WWII did.

Alright.  Now, let's discuss the government of Poland.  Which is only about 23 years old.  After 6 years of WWII, 44 years of Soviet rule.  Prior to which, was only it's own country for 21 years after WWI, a victim of WWI for 4 years, and off the maps of Europe in the Great Partitions for about 123 years.  I'm not asking for a pity party.  I'm saying, know the facts.  All of them.  Grasp the full situation of a country before deciding who is right about what.

Poland right now is the least impacted country in the EU right now from the recession.  That does not mean they are the richest country in the EU right now.  If country X had 800 dollars and only lost 8 in the recession and country Y had 1,000 and lost 150, then country X is least effected but country Y has more money.  I am also not saying Poland is the poorest.  I am just saying, look at figure before slapping a fun and easy to swallow summary on a country's economy and making your decisions from there.

Also, in order for Poland to be a member of the EU, Poland must maintain a certain economic and budgetary balance.  With the economy being what it is and the recession, as well as the still in progress picking upand fixing of the damage caused by the Soviet government, it's not as simple as you might think.  I have been following the Polish economy and it's not so easy to fix all that.

Poland being a member of the EU also benefits Israeli citizens who can claim Polish citizenship, as they can also use their Polish passport to move freely between EU countries, whereas their Israeli passport does not allow that at this time.

In the end, I told our friend, "I understand how your father felt.  But I have to also see it from the villagers perspective and it wasn't fair to them either that your father expected them to simply hand over the house when he himself admits nobody for 56 years knew anything about what happened to the family except that they had died.  I'm so sorry what happened to your family.  Did your father speak to the local government to see what was able to be done with this?"

He stopped talking during that hike.  And after that day, did not speak to us.  I'm not sure what I did wrong, other than empathize with an entire victimized nation, rather than one particular people.

What would you have done?  How does Poland's decision make you feel?



For other's perspectives in the Polonia (Polish American Community), you can also read here at Jagahost's Polish Culture Forum...

Polish Grandmother: Babcia, Busia, Buzia, Busza, Babusza, Babusia, Babunia, Bubi, Mamie, Baba, Babci, Buba, Busha, Booboo

This is a continuation of a series about Polish words.

Today, I want to focus on the word for "Grandmother" in the Polish language.  The way to say "Grandmother" is "Babcia" (pronounced bahp-CHAH, with the "a" sounding like the "a" in "father" and the "ci" sounding like "ch" in "chicken").  That is how every Pole in Poland says it.  Every single one of them.

That is not to say that the word "Babciu" (pronounced bahp-CHOoh with the "ci" sounding like the "ch" in "chicken") is incorrect.  It is merely an endearing way to say it to your Grandmother, if you are close to her and speaking to her directly.  This is similar to the usage of Dziadziusu discussed in this previous post  http://polishmamaontheprairie.blogspot.com/2010/12/polish-grandfather-dziadek-dziadziu.html

Also, "Babunia" (pronounced bahb-OO-niah with the "ni" sound like a double "n" in spanish) is another complicated word for Grandmother.  "Babunia" is only ever used when speaking to children about their beloved Babcia in an endearing manner, however, that is not her title.  Grandmother's title is still "Babcia", it is only used in a sentence like "Your babunia is coming over today for dinner".

"Babcia", in the meantime, is always used when speaking about a Grandmother.  But for all intends and purposes, because it is actually and very subtly more complicated than that, just like the acceptable variations of Dziadek, if you don't know the different subtleties between all of them, you should just stick with "Babcia".

So, again, we have to ask the question "Why all the other versions"?  And, why in the Polish language, are they not all correct?  Let's find out... 

Busia (pronounced "Boo-sha") is probably a shortened version of Babusia (pronounced bah-BOO-shah with the "si" being a "sh" sound), which may be a variation of Babuska (pronounced bah-BOO-shkah).  Babuska is Russian for Grandmother.  I have actually heard many American men affectionately addressing their Russian or Polish wives this way and most cringe and correct them, because first of all, they are being called a "Grandmother" and second, if they are Polish, why would they want to be called a Russian word?  I have no experience in whether Busia is accepted in the Russian language as I am not Russian, but it is not a Polish word.

Buzia (pronounced booh-zah with the "zi" sound as in, well, I can't come up with any because I have never noticed it in the English language, but I guess you could say like the french sounding "j" sound in "juin") means "Mouth" or "Face", as in "Dai mi Buzi" (or Give me Kisses), that fabulous t-shirt phrase always sold at Polish-American festivals with the kiss print on it.

Busza, I think is a misspelling of Busia.  Again, Busia is short for Babusia, which is Russian.  Babusza, I don't know.  Babu, I don't know.  Bubi, Mamie, Baba, Babci, Buba, Busha, Booboo, again, I don't know.  Some of these are probably corrupted pronunciations of Jewish, Russian, Greek, Ukrainian, or other languages. 

Baba (pronounced bah-bah) means "Old Lady" but it is not used, because the old phrases it is used in are insults, which I don't want to share here.  Likewise with Baba and Babka, I think it is better to just stay away from, because if you use them incorrectly, you are being very rude.



So, to recap:

• To say "Grandmother" in Polish, you say "Babcia" (pronounced bahp-cha, with the "ci" pronounced like the "ch" in "chicken")
• If you are not completely familiar with the exact way to use "Babunia", or "Babciu", it is better to just say "Babcia"
• The "ci" sound in Polish is always like the "ch" in "chicken"
• Other ways of saying "Grandmother" either mean a rude word, something in another language like Russian, Jewish, Ukrainian, or other.

Some people are going to read this and adamantly argue that the words I stated above which were the correct way to say "Grandmother" are not true because in their Polish American families they use the other words which I explained were not the correct way.  However, there is another history and linguistics lesson in this.

First, I would encourage anyone to look in an English-Polish Dictionary to see what is written in the English section for "Grandmother", then try to find the other words in the Polish section. 

Second, Poland prior to WWII was not all completely Polish, actually it had a diverse ethnic populace, with Jews, Italians, Greeks, Russians, Germans, Ukrainians, etc. living within it's borders.  So, just because a family member came from Poland, does not always mean they were ethnically Polish.  I would encourage everyone to look into their family genealogy, we all have amazing surprises to discover.  Also, there was a time when some Germans, Jews, Ukrainians, and Russians were labeled as Polish when they came to America and the immigrant just went with that, for whatever reason.

Third, due to the Partitions in Polish history, there was for about 200 years a time when Poles spoke more than one language, usually Russian, Austrian (Austrian German), or Prussian (German).  In some areas and certain periods during that time, Polish was not allowed to be taught or used.  So, some Polish families who came to America, used Russian or German words for certain things or people.

Fourth, we Poles have lived in many places besides Poland for many centuries, just like all other nationalities, or ethnic groups.  Poles have lived in France, England, Germany, Ukraine, etc. and would have adopted certain words and other cultural habits from their host country, and therefor would have brought that with them when coming to America.

You might also be interested in the following post, at the end I briefly mention the words "Babcia" and "Busia" and explain why they are both used in my family...

http://polishmamaontheprairie.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving-and-remembering-our-past.html

Poles Who Shaped the Face of American History

I grew up fiercely but indefinably proud of being Polish and living in America.  Both to me were blessings, something to stand up for. 

Today, I am going to list some Poles who shaped the face of American History, many of whom will be vaguely familiar to people, but the ethnic identity of these people before would have been a mystery, particularly in American public school history books.  Don't feel bad, I didn't know much about these people as a child, either.



You've heard of Christopher Columbus. Genealogists believe he may have been Polish.  Too bad he didn't plant the Polish flag when he "discovered America", then Poles today might not need a visa to come to the USA.

You've heard of Jamestown. Captain Smith invited several Poles onto the ships, Mary and Margaret, as they were well known for their glassmaking skills.  They also dug the first well. Among them were a "Robert", "Matthew" and "Molasco", which is probably an English misspelling of "Miroslaw".

Sandusky, Ohio is named after an early Polish explorer, Anthony Sadowski.

George Washington's favorite Engineer was a Tadeusz Kościuszko, he was also a close friend of Thomas Jefferson, General Gates, and other prominent Revolutionary figures. His defense plans were the ones that General Benedict Arnold attempted to steal and sell to the British of West Point.  His last will at his death freed his slaves, who he was known to never treat poorly but always respected, and stated that he wished that his estate be used to buy the freedom of black slaves.  The reason perhaps that many do not know of him was several reasons, one being that his English was not as good as his French, and language was a barrier for him in some instances, another being that he did not constantly petition the still infantine Congress for ranking, money, and promotions, merely being content to do his job as best as possible for the good of our nation today, and his name was misspelled very often by famous figures, even Washington, himself.  As he was not interested in silly politics of gentlemen badmouthing other gentlemen (in my words based on my own research), he was also friends with many individuals, some of whom were not looked upon favorably by others in influence.  An interesting site I personally am a fan of is .http://www.thekf.org/ and I would highly recommend anyone interested in American history to read the book by Alex Storozynski "The Peasant Prince".

Casimir Pułaski is a famous figure in the Polonia community (the Polish community in the USA). He was friends with Benjamin Franklin, who personally wrote a letter to General George Washington, recommending Pulaski to our First President.  He later also became close friends with Washington.  In Brandywine, Pulaski
came to the aid of Washington, and again in the Battle of Germantown.  Pulaski is known as the "Father of the American Cavalry".

Wlodzimierz Krzyzanowski was a Polish military leader and a Union general in the American Civil War.

"The Father of the Nuclear Navy" and Admiral in the US Navy was Hyman Rickover.  Hyman was the first Director of Naval Reactors.

According to the Guinness Book of World Records, US Army Office Matt Urban is the most decorated US Serviceman.



These are just a few and, by no means, the majority.  Do a search of Polish Americans and see what you find!  While you are at it, I encourage you to research your own family heritage and celebrate it. And remember, it wasn’t only the English who founded and developed America into the amazing country it is today.  Our country was built on the blood, sweat, and tears of the English, Dutch, Polish, French, Finnish, Africans, Chinese, and many others.