CHAPTER 1
My Life in Poland
I am a lover of art, and the Metropolitan Museum is mylife. New York, the Big Apple, has fascinated me since mychildhood.
Driving over the Verrazano Bridge, seeing one of myfavorite landscapes of New York City, I hear the music in myears:
Take me back to New York CityTake me back to Manhattan
My limo stops next to the Metropolitan Museum, andhere I am in front of my favorite place in the world. The OldMasters are my particular interest. The incredible detailsand the portrait-like figures are something that I find quiteextraordinary. I wish that these faces could tell me a story ofthe past.
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My life back at the village was quite different. I comefrom a small village of Osuchów in Poland. I was born to aChristian family and raised near a big parish, where we hada very active religious life.
My grandson Parker, who during childhood spent manymemorable times with me, has great fascination for art andhistory. He wants to know about the old days and what itwas like living in Poland. We spend many evenings in thekitchen drinking tea or sitting on a comfy couch in the livingroom, by the fireplace, and I tell him my rather unusual lifestory.
Back at the little village there was a great sense of acommunity, and everyone knew each other's business. Myparents had an entrepreneur spirit, managing their ownbusiness and always willing to help others. And then theunthinkable happened that changed and scarred the worldand its inhabitants forever. The Second World War creptin like a thief in the night, and Poland lost its innocence, itsfoundation shaken overnight. People's faith was determinedby the color of their eyes. Men were stripped of dignity atthe hands of the oppressors. Women were raped, and manychildren were left orphans. The villages were plundered bythe enemy, and death was everywhere, with no consolationto be found. The city of Warsaw was in ruins, with onlyremnant left of the beautiful old architecture.
People left the city for small villages and the countrysideto escape death, but instead many found themselves on atrain to the dark chambers. The old and the children weresubjected to this painful destiny. The enemy looked for theweak and the sick, which were thought to be of no use. Theyoung and the strong were sent to do hard labor.
The chamber of death was a dreadful place, with nohope of escape. The enemy tyrannized the helpless citizensof Poland. The ignorance and the cowardly actions wereof no concern to the oppressors. Did the enemy not realizethat eventually truth would stare them in the eye? For somemay take a lifetime to meet their destiny. At the end theywill account for their own doings, with no place to escape orhide. All will meet their own death or faith.
So the evil was unleashed, but in the midst of all, manyheroes and saints were discovered. These are the men andwomen who gave their lives for others. Some the worldwill never know. Few survivors remained to tell the storiesof courage and bear witness that the evil could not crushthe spirit, even in the greatest humiliation, with deathstaring them in the eye. The courage was present, and thecompassion for others superseded any fear of the enemy.Naked and humiliated, walking into chambers of darkness,surrendering their weak bodies to the enemy and to death,their spirits were brave; the enemy could not stop them fromnoble actions and the sacrifice to give up their own lives forothers.
This was a very dark period in Polish history. The evilcould not be stopped soon enough to protect war victimsfrom human cruelty. The world was looking for quicksolutions to stop this madness, but they were nowhere tobe found. In the hands of the oppressors, one's life had nomeaning. It was nothing more than a prey to satisfy a cause.As a young child I could not understand how one could goto such great extremes to prove a political point or justifythis type of action for a piece of land. Most mysteriousof all was how one man's conviction and cruelty couldcontaminate the masses.
Grandma, how devastating it is to know that one humanbeing is capable of such cruelty.
Parker, as if Poland did not go through enough withthe Nazis, toward the end of war, the Russian and Germanarmies fought on Polish territory, and everyone was evenmore scared and confused.
One early morning my father went about his business,and my mom went to get something.
Alone with my little sister and brother, I heard armytanks and gunfire on our street. Out of fear my siblings and Iall hid under the kitchen table. I threw a heavy wool blanketover us just to protect us from the onslaught of noise.
Our hearts were pounding, and we sat motionless underthe blanket, not knowing what to do. Suddenly the windowsbroke, and we heard the shattering of glass.
I was in a panic but had no clue what to do. The gunfiresubsided, but now I heard soldiers breaking through thedoor and looking for my parents.
I thought that we would die. I embraced my little sisterand my brother and waited for the unthinkable to happen.
We sat under the table hugging each other and crying.
I felt hopeless and overtaken by fear. The heavy footstepsand the loud voices could be heard all over the house.
Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. One of our neighborsintervened on our behalf. He stated that this was a very nicefamily. He spoke Russian and was able to stop the enemyfrom further demolishing our house.
The enemy soldiers removed the glass from the blanketand helped us from under the table.
I must say that there were pieces of glass all over. If itwasn't for their help, we would not have been able to comeout unharmed.
My parents showed up...
