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Polish Culture
Over the past five years I have been diligently working on my family tree. That task has been a tedious one due to both sides of the family being tight of lip. My mom’s side, the Polish side has been the toughest. I am only second generation in this country. My grandparents were born in Poland and found their way to America. My grandfather came to this county when he was sixteen and my grandmother came when she was three. Poland circa 1912 was not the most prosperous and for the most part was divided between the Russians, Germans, and Austrians. You were considered lucky if you lived under the Austrian ruled Poland, and you were least lucky if you lived in the German ruled Poland. Either way, none of the Polish wanted to be ruled by any of these countries. There was such a stigma to what part of Poland you came from that my grandmother’s family declared themselves, “Austrian Poles,” on the 1920 census; when in reality they were, “Russian Poles.” There is a story in the family that my great-grandfather was in the Russian military during the Russo-Japanese War. He hated service to Russia so much, that he defected and came to America. Shortly after, he sent for my great-grandma and my grandma. My grandfather is a whole other story. He actually being from the Austrian ruled part of Poland, came to America and settled in New Jersey, then found himself years later in Chicago. I think he always thought he would go back to Poland. He did not become an American citizen until the government forced him to in 1935. From then on he was targeted by the government for being a communist sympathizer. He was even, “ousted,” during the McCarthy era. It had little affect on him, for the next year, he was featured in a Chicago Tribune article about the CTA cable cars moving to buses. He was a carpenter for the Chicago Transit Authority and eventually retired from there. Due to what both families went through, secrecy ran high, so much so, that even my mother doesn’t know much more than who her first cousins are and if there might be family back in Poland. For years my grandmother told us that grandpa was born in Warsaw. After research I can tell you, not even close. I believe this secrecy has caused the family to slowly lose it’s culture. While growing up in Chicago I was entrenched in the Polish customs, something I took for granted. My grandparents never seemed to pass on the customs. They took care of everything themselves. My grandma never shared any recopies, and never shared stories of what Christmas and Easter were like back in the day. My grandparents eventually passed away, and I eventually moved to Los Angeles. My sisters and I now sit around and try to remember the recipes that my grandma made. We try to remember what little stories are grandparents did tell. We try to hold on the customs we had, but it becomes increasingly harder. As more and more people become Americanized, their ethnicity begins to fade. I find myself longing for perogie, wearing red on St. Josephs day, celebrating Pounchki day, and decorating the house at Easter with Pisanki, (intricately designed Easter eggs). Had I stayed in Chicago, I’m sure holding on to my family customs would have been easier, but people must move on. In the same vein moving on does not necessarily mean letting go. Family customs are important and I know this much, I will not let secrecy come in between passing, what little cultural customs I do have, down to my future children. |
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May, 2012
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