- Joined
- Sep 26, 2016
- Messages
- 21,539
- Reaction score
- 20,536
1991
There was about five of us in the back of a warn-out blue pickup. A blue tarp acted as the canopy and we huddled together trying not to cause a disturbance. You could see through a small crack as we traveled through dirt and unmanned roads. The beauty of the trees all sequenced wonderfully in perfect symmetry was a sight that has never escaped my mind. Much different than the sprawling Jewish Ghetto of Krakow, or the ruins of Warsaw. We were traveling to Gdansk, a twelve hour drive that would probably take you five or six today with the advent of a modern highway system developed in 2012.
Kacper, my father was very anxious. A hard working but poor man, he worked as a consultant in Krakow for most of his life. He grew up in a section of Krakow known as the Jewish Ghetto. Just for some clarification, the Jewish Ghetto is still there today and is very nice, the name is more about significance rather than being a poor or dangerous neighborhood. The significance of the name is a reminder that it was a holding ground for Poles and others awaiting a train ride to Auschwitz. My grandfather Ben never took that train ride, he was captured during the first invasion by Czech troops and jailed for the duration of the war, only to be released to find his community was a ghost town. But they would rebuild.
We were going to Gdansk help my father's friend on a fishing trip. This wasn't strange to me. We did odd jobs all the time as kids. Rake some neighbors leafs, clean their house, bring friends and family Gołąbki*. We were very active in the neighborhood and all of my family volunteered at the Jewish Community Center in Krakow, which remains there today.
* a dish popular in cuisines of Central and Eastern Europe, made from boiled cabbage leaves wrapped around a filling of minced pork or beef, chopped onions, and rice or barley.
We arrived in Gdansk at the docks and saw a group of men standing around smoking cigarettes. My mother was there as well as my sister. That hadn't traveled with us so I was a bit surprised to see them there. I had a backpack and the clothes I was wearing. I loved basketball, so everything I ever wanted was basketball related and so when my dad came out of the truck with a ball and said "Zagrajmy!*" any apprehension I had dissipated.
*Let's play!
There was no hoop, just the two of us with the ball. Some of the other kids played as well but my dad told them "pozostawiać,*" and the two of us kept dribbling and passing the ball. A small boat no bigger than the truck we rode in on pulled up to the dock and my dad hurried over to help it get tied on. Some of my family and friends began boarding, no more than fifteen people total.
*Go away
I was waved over by my father. I grabbed my backpack and walked to the boat. My dad grabbed me and clutched the back of my head. I was his only son, and no matter how much he may have loved my sister, our relationship was different. He saw the world as dangerous and worrisome place, especially in Poland, where a lot of major changes were happening to our government during this time. For better or worse, my dad worried that the lack of stability would be harmful for me to grow up in.
I was standing on the dock, the boat rocking back in forth in the immense and infinite Bering Sea. My dad put his forehead to mine and told me in English, "I'll be with you soon." I had so many questions but my dad pushed me on the boat and my mother grabbed me and led me down to the cabin. That would be the last time I saw my father for twenty three years.
The boat was headed to Sweeden and from there we flew to Vancouver. My dad never came to Canada but called a lot. I still speak a little Polish still but no Russian (when I was a kid that was what they taught us in school). My sister has a family in East Van and I see them all the time. My mom moved back to Poland after we became adults. I moved to Poland in 2014 and was reunited with my dad (not living with him) and he was able to form a relationship with my son. In 2017 I moved with my wife and son to Mexico City.
There was about five of us in the back of a warn-out blue pickup. A blue tarp acted as the canopy and we huddled together trying not to cause a disturbance. You could see through a small crack as we traveled through dirt and unmanned roads. The beauty of the trees all sequenced wonderfully in perfect symmetry was a sight that has never escaped my mind. Much different than the sprawling Jewish Ghetto of Krakow, or the ruins of Warsaw. We were traveling to Gdansk, a twelve hour drive that would probably take you five or six today with the advent of a modern highway system developed in 2012.
Kacper, my father was very anxious. A hard working but poor man, he worked as a consultant in Krakow for most of his life. He grew up in a section of Krakow known as the Jewish Ghetto. Just for some clarification, the Jewish Ghetto is still there today and is very nice, the name is more about significance rather than being a poor or dangerous neighborhood. The significance of the name is a reminder that it was a holding ground for Poles and others awaiting a train ride to Auschwitz. My grandfather Ben never took that train ride, he was captured during the first invasion by Czech troops and jailed for the duration of the war, only to be released to find his community was a ghost town. But they would rebuild.
We were going to Gdansk help my father's friend on a fishing trip. This wasn't strange to me. We did odd jobs all the time as kids. Rake some neighbors leafs, clean their house, bring friends and family Gołąbki*. We were very active in the neighborhood and all of my family volunteered at the Jewish Community Center in Krakow, which remains there today.
* a dish popular in cuisines of Central and Eastern Europe, made from boiled cabbage leaves wrapped around a filling of minced pork or beef, chopped onions, and rice or barley.
We arrived in Gdansk at the docks and saw a group of men standing around smoking cigarettes. My mother was there as well as my sister. That hadn't traveled with us so I was a bit surprised to see them there. I had a backpack and the clothes I was wearing. I loved basketball, so everything I ever wanted was basketball related and so when my dad came out of the truck with a ball and said "Zagrajmy!*" any apprehension I had dissipated.
*Let's play!
There was no hoop, just the two of us with the ball. Some of the other kids played as well but my dad told them "pozostawiać,*" and the two of us kept dribbling and passing the ball. A small boat no bigger than the truck we rode in on pulled up to the dock and my dad hurried over to help it get tied on. Some of my family and friends began boarding, no more than fifteen people total.
*Go away
I was waved over by my father. I grabbed my backpack and walked to the boat. My dad grabbed me and clutched the back of my head. I was his only son, and no matter how much he may have loved my sister, our relationship was different. He saw the world as dangerous and worrisome place, especially in Poland, where a lot of major changes were happening to our government during this time. For better or worse, my dad worried that the lack of stability would be harmful for me to grow up in.
I was standing on the dock, the boat rocking back in forth in the immense and infinite Bering Sea. My dad put his forehead to mine and told me in English, "I'll be with you soon." I had so many questions but my dad pushed me on the boat and my mother grabbed me and led me down to the cabin. That would be the last time I saw my father for twenty three years.
The boat was headed to Sweeden and from there we flew to Vancouver. My dad never came to Canada but called a lot. I still speak a little Polish still but no Russian (when I was a kid that was what they taught us in school). My sister has a family in East Van and I see them all the time. My mom moved back to Poland after we became adults. I moved to Poland in 2014 and was reunited with my dad (not living with him) and he was able to form a relationship with my son. In 2017 I moved with my wife and son to Mexico City.
