Pace yourself, it is later than you think.

Some seeds were planted in Germany, some in Italy, and majority of them grew in Poland. These seeds formed into grandmothers, grandfathers, mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, cousins, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. I am one of those seeds. My seed was planted in Rzeszow, Poland in June of 1982. Without knowing it, feeling it, or realizing it at the time, at least consciously, eight years later, my seed with its roots, was ripped out of the ground and placed on a plane headed for Canada. Three other seeds joined me: my mother, my father, and my brother. In September of 1990, upon my arrival in Calgary, I dug a whole in the ground where the soil was rich and full of nutrients, and placed my seed in it along with its roots. It was not until years later, when I became old enough and more aware, that I re-examined my roots and my being, and realized that parts of it remained in Poland and reside there to this day. I can’t get those parts back, nor do I want to, they belong where they are.

In December of 1981, in attempt to squash the Solidarity movement, martial law was declared in Poland. My father always opposed communist rule, and longed for better economic opportunity and a better quality of life. When the law was lifted in 1983, the situation in Poland did not improve. My father left for California in 1987, and resided there for two years. Working under the table and living with family that immigrated to the US in the 50s, my father saw the opportunities that were available to him and his family in places far from Poland. In 1989 he returned to Poland and the following year my whole family immigrated to Canada. That is how our seeds got transferred.

My memories of Poland are very distinct and clear. Life was simple, but it was good. If of course was very young at the time and was not concerned with politics or affairs that concerned my parents, I had a good childhood and was a happy kid. Today, we are the only family in Canada. Grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles and cousins, all live in Poland. We have close family friends here, but it does not compare. Summers in Poland were spent out in the country in Sienow, a little village not too far from Rzeszow, at my great grandparents house. That house still stands today and is 145 years old. My mother was a teacher so she was able to leave the city for the whole summer and take us a long with her, while my father commuted back and forth. There we chased chickens in the garden, took long walks in the fields, picked cherries, raspberries and apples. At least that is what I remember. Baths were taken in a big tub where water had to be heated up on the stove and poured in. If you wanted to go to the washroom you had to use the outhouse. Sometimes we slept in the barn on the hey, that was my favorite part, but for some reason it didn’t happen very often. I write of my great grandparents house because I believe that the things I experienced there taught me a great deal. It was there, at such a young age that I learned to appreciate the simplicity of life, learned about work ethic, and the power of family.

My great grandfather had both his legs amputated and used a wheel chair for a big portion of his life. He was also partly deaf so I always thought he was yelling at me when he spoke, so I would run off crying. Now I know he only spoke so loud because he couldn’t hear himself. My great grandmother was a powerhouse; I don’t know how else to describe her. She ran the farm, worked on the farm, coordinated everybody, and took care of my great grandfather and her children. My great grand parents from my father’s side I did not know, as they died before I was born. Both my great grandparents and grandparent’s were a big part of my life. They definitely contributed to raising both my brother and I when we were very young, however, that changed when we immigrated to Canada.

My mom’s side is Italian and Polish. My father’s side is German and Polish. When these nationalities intertwined I am not sure, I’m not even sure if they are sure, but it was decades upon decades ago. So I can confidently say that I am more Polish than anything, but in many ways also Canadian. My parent’s have always stressed the importance of preserving one’s culture and for that I am very grateful. I can’t say that attending Polish school after regular school was something that I looked forward to every Friday, but now I understand its significance and the impact that it made. The truth is, my parents immigrated to Canada to offer us more opportunities and give us a better life, that is why it is so ironic when I tell them that one day I want to return to Poland and build my life there. In many ways I feel like I have to return to my roots, to where my seed was first planted, at least for a bit. That may change, life changes all the time, who knows where future seeds will be planted, but for the moment that is how I feel.

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