Me and my cousin Steve. I’m very short as you can see.
- Steve and my youngest child Elijah, who at 13 years old is catching up to Steve, height-wise. He’s taller than everyone in our house. LOL!
So, my cousin Steve, whom I had never even heard about, came to visit me a couple of weeks ago (his sister lives in St. Clair Shores). He is our family’s genealogist and came bearing gifts, the greatest of which was our family tree dating back to Poland, 1856. I am thankful that he found me by way of this very blog, or else I would have never known he existed. It’s a long story, but to shorten it just a bit, my grandmother was not so proud of her mulatto grandbaby (me). Whoever said blood is thicker than water was obviously not the czarna owca of their family. It was a sign of the times, I guess. What are ya gonna do? Sometimes that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. Life gives you lemons, you make koolaid, or something like that. Hmmm…. are there any other cliches that I can add here? Ah, yes, at the end of the day… at the end of the day, all that matters is that I was found. Laughing out loud (I just had to type that out)!
But I digress. Steve lives in Colorado with his wife Jane, daughter Emily and son Clark. He has visited our homeland (Poland) many times and even visited my great-grandparents’ grave. If you read my earlier post, which detailed my grandmother’s treatment at the hands of the Nazis, you may remember that my great-grandfather’s body was never recovered. So his grave is empty, it’s just a memorial really. Isn’t that messed up? Ugh! The atrocities! And for anyone to even dispute what happened way back when under Hitler’s regime, well, that’s just appalling.
Following are pics of my great-grandparents Helena Madalinska & Tadeusz Kryska along with a picture of their tombstone. I am very grateful for cousin Steve to share these with me. I would like to go and see their tombstone and hometown for myself one day, but ya know, I may get some crazy looks. I mean, look at me. Do I look Polish to you or do I look more Latina? Exactly! However, anyone that knows me, knows that I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of me…. anymore. The most important opinion is my own, when it comes to acceptance and rejection. It took me forty years to get to this space and I like it. I like it a lot!
My great-grandparents. Look at the roundness of Helena’s face, this is where I get my fat face from. Wow.
My great-grandparents’ grave. My great-grandfather’s body is not in this tomb, for it was never recovered.
I guess I’ll go to sleep now. I have to be to physical therapy in a few hours and I’ll need my strength. I’ll post more pics as I get them.
Dobranoc.
Lenette 😉
During the trip to Germany, in the train, at Lodz Station, Poland, the Germans killed my father. A few minutes before the train left the station, my father on the verge of a nervous breakdown because his his wife and child were hungry and all were being taken to Germany, cracked open a window and yelled to the heavily armed German military police who was standing on the platform: “I will die, but Hitler will lose the war!” The indignant German gave a shrill wistle and all at once many armed Germans came rushing up with weapons drawn. They jumped into the train compartment where our mother, father, myself, my brother and my sister, together with other deportees were crowded like animals. The Germans struck my father several times withthe rifle butt. Blood gushed everywhere, including on all of us in the compartment. My father, bloody and battered, jumped out the window and tried to hide somewhere under the train, but the Germans fired several rounds and he was killed on the spot. I will never forget the bloody dress I wore, stained with the blood of my father. The German soldier was so heartless that he took off one of my father’s shoes, put it on th etop of his bayonet and dropped it into the compartment through the window. He said to my mother: “keep this shoe as a souvenir”. A few minutes later, a small army vehicle came up and they tossed my father, like a dog, into it. The car drove off, no one knows where. My father was probably buried somewhere in the fields. No one knows what the Germans did with my father’s body. After that event, the Germans thoroughly checked everything and the train continued to Germany.
We traveled to the north of Germany, to a city called Greiswalk-Rapenhagen, or something like that. Here the Germans segregated us into three sections: mothers with children, men and single women. Five people were assigned to each tiny room. Because my father was no longer with us, my mother, I, my brother and sister, made up only four, they added and 18 yearl old girl to our room. As I mentioned, the room was very small, there was only room enough for two plank beds on which all of us slept. Dark shades covered the tiny window, and during the night rats and mice ran all over us so that it was difficult to sleep. I remember that my mother secretly smuggled in a small flashlight and when the rats and mice began running in the room, she shone the light so that nothing would happen to us. We did not realize that in the black shades of the tiny windows were two small holes. The Germans noticed that some light was shining, came to the room and beat my mother until she was unconscious. They said that she had some secret information and she was trying to send messages by flashing the light. Every morning, as soon as it was light, my mother had to go to work with other women. She came back late in the evening.
My grandmother would receive a mere $3,000 for her pain and suffering. Her husband Edward Glegola, who was forced to serve in the German army, would receive a stipend of $1,500 from the German government. I do not remember if this was a monthly or yearly stipend, but I do remember the many times that Edward would cry when reliving his time spent serving in the German army. He actually lost his sight in one eye from being hit in the eye with the butt of a rifle. Edward died in January of 2008. My grandmother continues to live in Hamtramck alone. I am sad for her…. I am always sad…
I have so much to tell you, yet I don’t know where to begin….
AFRICAN AMERICAN POLISH PRINCESS 