Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

I am tired of goodbyes, by which I condemn myself to an isolated existence; as I leave family and friends scattered across the globe in the wake of my departures and their own.  I know that their loving energy reaches out in an effort to close the distance between us, as if to embrace and assure me that I am not truly alone.  No longer do I have a sense as to where home lies; for if home is where the heart is, I have carelessly left it in a myriad of places with unlikely caretakers, so that it is simply muddled in confusion over this matter, which has been years in the making.  Or perhaps, in giving it away piece by piece and hiding bits away in such obscure nooks, which I now cannot specifically recall or access, I wonder if anything remains to excavate from within this fleshy shell; while I simultaneously ponder if ever ‘goodbye’ will hold any other meaning than ‘so long forever...’

Letting Out Our Inner Child

It’s fascinating how captivated a child can be with the world around him/her, even with the simplest or most mundane things, like hand-washing laundry, as two little girls sat watching me today.  Everything is fresh and new.  Perhaps, even though a child has dug in the same sandbox day after day, they notice the subtle differences that make this particular moment all its own.  Or maybe they eagerly anticipate changes, knowing that the world is in a constant state of flux.  They remain enthralled by all that they notice, which is quite a lot, as they are always watching, processing, and learning, during the peak years of their development.

It’s equally fascinating that not long ago, adults experienced the world in the very same way.  However, the magic that it once held has disappeared to be replaced by jadedness from our common daily tasks to the overwhelming negative forces at work in the world.  Perhaps, this childhood experience is influential in the decision of many individuals to start a family.  In some distant memories, they can recall the wonder and excitement that the world once held and find themselves secretly missing those feelings.  It seemed to be an experience unique to childhood, so the only obvious way to relive such moments would be through a child.  As the child discovers, the parents reminisce, reliving their childhood and sharing what they hold most dear with their progeny.

While it is important to be so engaged with children, I don’t believe that children are the only ones who get to have all of the fun.  It’s far more challenging to connect with our inner child, to push away the worries, doubts, responsibilities, and horrors of life, for even just a brief moment, to recognize the good that we once saw in it and that still exists.  We need to essentially unlearn much of what has been taught to us about being an adult and how we must conduct ourselves within society, always remaining reserved, keeping busying, and wanting more.  We need to remember how to appreciate the simple things in life and marvel at their existence.

It seems that we are so firmly rooted in these mind sets, these cultural and societal constructs, that it becomes difficult to identify where they end and where our own true values and interests begin.  Maybe, if we revisit our childhood a little more often, whether it be through our memories or through new experiences individually or with our children, we may be able to find some answers and rediscover the wonder and beauty of life.

Polski List

I’ve spent the past several hours composing a letter to a relative in Poland, with whom I have recently connected.  I have learned a few words and phrases over the past couple of months through my inconsistent podcast usage and practice.  Yet, I know nothing of sentence structure and verb conjugation, my knowledge of assigning proper gender articles and endings to objects is minimal, and I generally spell Polish words phonetically in my podcast notes because it’s far too complicated otherwise.  Needless to say, these factors make for an interesting letter, and I imagine that she derives much amusement from my feeble attempts at writing in the Polish language. 

During my writing sessions, I am constantly revising sentences for the sake of simplicity.  Although, I find Polish to be a challenging language, it is really quite straight-forward and to the point, which is demonstrated by the significant lack of Polish equivalents to English articles and other filler words.  I also greatly mistrust the accuracy of online translation tools.  As a result, I translate the Polish word or phrase provided by the translator back into English, in order to see how jumbled my message became in a matter of seconds.  It reminds me of the telephone game, in which a sentence is whispered from one person to the next, all the way down the line, until the final player states aloud something entirely different from what the group began with.  When I am really struggling with the online translator to produce a translation with some resemblance to my original meaning, I pull out my hefty Polish-English dictionary to do it the old-fashioned way. 

But, finally, my letter is complete and ready to mail and, hopefully, does not contain too many awkward mistakes!

Uncovering the Past

My grandparents on their wedding day

Several years ago, I began to wonder about my heritage.  My father’s mother had already traced his family’s lineage back to the time of the Pilgrims, so that she could attain membership to the Daughters of the American Revolution organization.  I have bound copies of her findings, which I scanned through at that time, and found to be quite interesting. 

My mother’s family lineage is another story.  We know that her grandparents, my great-grandparents, immigrated to the United States from Poland.  Her parents, both of Polish descent, were born and married here.  As a result, she is a full-blooded Pole, and I am half-Polish.  Yet, in spite of this strong blood connection to the culture, we know little about it or, even our more recent ancestors, their lives and circumstances. To further complicate things, of my grandparents’ generation, there is only one survivor left, whose memory
                                                                  continues to fade with age. 

My great-grandparents (grandfather's parents) on their wedding day (left)

Still, I had this urge to know, to learn, from where I came.  I started my initial search by utilizing the free two week trial from Ancestry.com.  I found the sheer number of available documents and routes to take overwhelming, and this feeling was compounded by the fact that, with all of the similar names of Polish immigrants in Massachusetts and the likelihood of significant name changes, I could not be sure who was actually an ancestor of mine.  It also did not help in trying to differentiate among individuals, when neither I nor my mother knew the first name of her mother’s father or the maiden name of her father’s mother.  Birth dates and death dates were obscure, and much of this common, critical data, which we take for granted may have been incorrectly recorded, due to the language barrier, since, I believe, none of my great-grandparents spoke English, fibbing about their ages, or, perhaps, simply not knowing.  Thus, the two week trial period concluded my first attempt at genealogy research with little to show for my efforts.

Recently, I have returned to this question with renewed determination to uncover some answers into the past.  My thought the other day was to go back to the basics, mapping out all of the known individuals of my Polish family tree and noting any bits of information that might help me to discover links to more distant relatives.  I’ve figured that if information regarding my great-grandparents is too sparse or inconclusive to locate key documents or relations, then, perhaps, I may accomplish this in a more round-about way through my grandparents and their siblings, especially since my mother has a greater knowledge pertaining to them. 

I’ve also found other useful resources this time around, including the Bible, in which my mother, and presumably her mother, retained obituaries and memorial prayer cards of family and close friends.  It was in the pages of this book that I spotted the obituary my grandfather’s mother, containing her lost maiden name.  From these clippings, I recorded all the names, dates, ages, places of residence and birth, and children’s names of my grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ generation that I could, even if I already had the information stashed in my binder.  I didn’t want to miss anything. 

In addition, through Family Search and Census Finder, I have found links, to U.S. Census records; however, these censuses are not free for public access online from 1930 and upwards.  I’m hoping that I may have better luck with accessing key documents at the Springfield Massachusetts Family History Center that I stumbled upon in Ludlow, of all places, about a twenty minute drive from home.  The hours are limited, as it is only open on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  Unfortunately, since I am working both of those days this week, I will have to wait until next week to explore the documents and services offered there.

For more specific information regarding Polish genealogy, the Polish Consulate in the U.S. doesn’t offer any kind of services or assistance with such research, but its website does provide links to other resources.  It is recommended to contact local historical societies, the U.S.National Archives and Records Service, and the genealogical division of the Library of Congress, the latter two being located in Washington, D.C.  The Polish Consulate also suggests sending a request for information directly to the Polish National Archives, but one must first determine, in which country their town of origin now resides, since the country has undergone so many divisions over the course of its troubled history.  Through the Consulate’s website, I also linked to a Polish digital Archival Internet Forum, which may be promising, but I have yet to explore it.

Starting Over

Yesterday, I met with my estranged aunt, who recently expressed interest in becoming involved in my and my family’s lives again.  I haven’t asked much about the past, and why it has shaped the relationships and sentiments into what they are today, but, regardless, I had decided to make a change and try reaching out.  I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, as I thought that, perhaps, she had come to a realization that she had pushed people away and, now, desired to reconcile.  I can’t know her intentions for certain, as this is just what made sense to me and it was something that I was able to identify with, having largely isolated my friends, the more deeply involved I became in a serious relationship a few years ago.  Perhaps, I’m just seeing what I want to see, believing what I want to believe. 

So, after much planning and rescheduling, we finally sat down for a chat at a local library.  Generally, libraries are very quiet places, but there was a room near the primary entrance that was mostly sectioned off from the main lobby and its offshoots, with the exception of an open entry way that was about three times as wide as the average door.  This design gave the impression that we were sitting in the library of someone’s home, complete with chairs, end tables, and a loveseat arranged in the center of the room, and we were able to freely converse without disturbing anyone.

I had decided that this would be the “getting to know each other” conversation to break the ice, and save the tougher questions regarding her past estrangement and current intentions for the next time.  I learned about the family pets of the past and the present, the happy and humorous moments, as well as the tragedies.  I tried to navigate away from the latter as best I could, and so, we also shared our travel experiences.  She told me of the Caribbean cruises that she went on with her husband and her trip to Germany, when she was eighteen, with one cousin to visit another cousin, whose baby was due.  Over the past several years, her health has declined, so she’s been trying to cope and determine the best course of action.  But also, it does seem like she’s lonely.  With being retired and her husband still working, the days may be much the same with little company, other than their dedicated cat.

Overall, it went rather well, as we talked for about two hours, except when I reverted to discussing the weather, in order to dodge answering questions about my sister, but I think she may have gotten the hint.  I’d still like to try and see how this works out, although the development and outcome of the next, more serious discussion, as I mentioned above, will aid me in determining if this is the best course to follow.