I'm Back After Finding My Farming Roots in Poland

Hello! So sorry for my absence as I have been out and about on holiday...
I had the most incredible opportunity to travel to southeast rural Poland this month and meet family.

It all started with a lost letter, which was subsequently found after forty-two years. Written in Polish and being curious, I had it translated into English. The letter, which had been authored by a unknown cousin, was originally written to my now deceased maternal grandmother asking for buttons, pieces of material and handkerchiefs. (I can only assume the difficulty one encountered living under communism.) Needless to say, I wrote the author of the original letter and she wrote me back! We corresponded for almost two years with her writing in Polish and me then having to write back in English. The process was very time consuming but exciting. Note: I did sign-up and for a short period of time to take Polish language lessons from a wonderful woman named Kazia in Cohoes. (As you can imagine, I did not do very well.)

Many times my new-found cousin invited us to come visit them and finally, with frequent flier miles about to expire I said, Let's go!" Too bad only my husband had interest in traveling to Poland with me. Off we went... I cannot begin to describe what a wonderful, friendly, scenic country Poland is. In total we meet at least fifty new-found family members; all of whom opened their homes, kitchens and hearts. Almost all were self-sufficient with homemade cheese, kielbasa, dumplings and plum vodka. They had root cellars, potato fields and backyard wells. Everyone had barns filled with chickens and pigs (and watch dogs). A few times it felt like we were visiting the pages of "National Geographic" with Polish women in boots and handkerchiefs tying bundles of twigs. Most had never meet Americans before and were thrilled that a family member had returned to the Motherland. It is the strangest feeling when people attentively watch you eat a meal or try the homemade vodka.

In many respects we were treated like celebrities. Only one family member could speak English...the poor kid (my official translator) missed several days of high school so that we could communicate with family as we went about visiting. We visited cemeteries and I was able to trace back five generations on a family tree. No one we meet ever had the opportunity to go to college. Most homes contained at least three generations of family. No one smoked! I was told it was because cigarettes are too expensive. And everyone, although they seemed to have so much less material wise, was HAPPY. Don't figure.

I have a new found pride in my Polish heritage. I realize how lucky I was to have found that letter. Next Sunday, my ailing mom turns 80. My four older brothers and I are throwing her a party complete with a Polka Band, dumplings and vodka shots! Here's to being Polish...