Pass It On

Every family has family momentos: pictures, keepsakes, rings...We pass these things along through the generations. Pictures with no names. Who is this? Don't have a clue. So we pass these pictures from generation to generation. Sons and daughters have to pack and repack items that meant something to someone. They ritually keep these items bouncing around in the family. If you're lucky like me, you'll have a geneologist in the family to keep historical documents.
It so happened that my grandma and grandpa came from Poland before the war. They were lost in a time machine. Poland would see many changes during the years of their absence. The family was displaced. Great Grandma and my grandma's sister ended up in Siberia (not for tourist reasons either!)They took the wrong direction to the Ukraine to start a new future. Not the wisest of choices. They were never heard from again.
Grandpa's little town outside Warsaw somehow allowed his family survival for the most part. It was only recently that opened documents from Oswieciem answered questions of one brother's disappearance. With open communications to the West when The Wall fell, came the emergence of family from Famulki (outside of Sochaczew). Envelopes and letters from the old country proved beyond a doubt that we were in the right family.
Years of e-mailing went on. My daughter went to visit her Dad's mother in Sedzieszow. Her Dad is also Polish born. From there they went to establish contact with the Dobrzynski's of Warsaw. For me to see this generation meeting the family from the past was moving. At the airport I realized it was not long ago when I made my first trip over, even though it was past twenty years. To see her going brought tears in my eyes knowing that she will join a heritage of both her mother and her father. In Poland we are there as family members who belong. To be a part of a family with kids who are her own age was more than fortunate. It was more interesting how she saw her own likeness in her Polish cousin - they looked like twins! The connection was priceless.
After a few weeks it was time to return to the US. When I caught sight of her coming out of customs at the airport, I started to get all choked up with emotion. I noticed how she fit right in with all the Poles. I noticed how Polish she really was. I saw generations in her. When she came through the door, I started to cry. I envisioned Grandma, Grandpa, and her own father coming through the gates of their new futures as well.
Next my son would make the same journey. This trip was also very special. It included a trip to the very land that the Dobrzynski's established when they made their way from Lithuania. The entrance to the farm cellar was still standing. Back in the 1700's there was a village called Dobrzyn. Adam Mickiewicz writes his national epic, Pan Tadeusz, and in there describes "our" family. My son went on a time travel through family history. He got to see the forests where mushrooms were picked. He got to see the church of the village where Chopin would play. He spoke to neighbors who remembered those Dobrzynski dwellers. The spirit of the family was still alive in these parts and now after all this time one more journey led back to the old country - our country!
Although our relatives lived the end of their lives here, they were still very much sons and daughters of that part of the world - Poland. Knowing who we are and from where we came is a value far greater than anything else that could have been passed down. Niech Zyje Polska!