Every now and then, when life gets to be too much for me to handle, I have to go home to Chicago to remember who I am. I spent a week there recently, visiting with my aunt, uncle and cousins on the Pluskota side. Such a good visit too. It was a trip of memories, of tears, and of laughter.
First on the list was the visit to Bobak's, a traditional Polish deli on the south side, just a mile or two away from Midway airport. I had never been there, and was astounded to see the butcher cases filled to the brim with all kinds of lunchmeats, cheeses and sausages. With all my knowledge in health and fitness, I gasped when I realized that, for years, my family has been filling myself with these delicacies... and all the fat and heart disease that goes with them. That's when it all started... the flooding memories. I remembered my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents, and how they struggled with their health issues. Now I clearly see the path that they were on, without the knowledge that it would hurt them someday.
As Uncle Jerry loaded up his cart with all the wonderful things from his childhood, I noticed him. I mean REALLY noticed him. I realized that this wonderful man, who I have known since he was a teenager, is living hard. I saw the silver of his hair, the lines in his face, and the light from his eyes, fading but not gone. It made me sad to think I have missed so much of his life, and how much he has missed of mine. We had not always been in contact... but each knew the other was there in a pinch. He grieves, like I do, for a happier time when we were all young, full of piss and vinegar, and always had family to come back to. Time had no meaning. Now it means everything. As I choked back tears in remembrance, Uncle Jerry, Aunt Pat, Dennis and I sat down to lunch at Bobak's. They all had some of the traditional foods, and me? I was so boring with my chicken, rice and vegetables. *sigh* Dennis teased me relentlessly about my choice of lunch, and that's okay. Dennis wouldn't be Dennis if he didn't give me shit about something or other. We are family that doesn't take offense to something the others say, and don't hesitate to let someone know when a line is crossed. I came to Chicago specifically at this time because I knew Dennis would be there as well. (I love you, cuz!)
The next day was Monday... and that meant a full day and Monday Night Football. But before we could sit down and enjoy the game (or not, depending on how the Bears are playing), Dennis and I had planned on an excursion to two cemeteries... both to pay our respects and to find the graves of our great-grandparents, Felix and Mary Cieslak. I was thrilled when Uncle Jerry and Aunt Pat let me know they were coming too. I hadn't asked them previously because I didn't know if this was something that would upset them. I knew what effect it would have on me. It was to complete a circle. So, first up after breakfast at IHOP was Holy Cross Cemetery, and paying our respects to my grandparents, Joe and Sophie Pluskota, who were Uncle Jerry's parents. We trudged through about 8 inches of snow to get to the site, which we all knew by heart. We cleared the stones of ice and snow and stood in tears of remembrance for the two people who had meant so much to us.
We went further... with Dennis and I going in opposite directions to find the stones of Sylvester and Arlene Pyrz, my Uncle Pete and Aunt Shirley. And we DID find them. Only after surveying stakes in the ground that had been numbered according to plots. We were clearing off stones... me on one side, and Dennis on the other. And we found them. Right between one stone I had cleared on one side and one that Dennis had cleared on the other. This was after I had been told to get back in the truck... it was too cold... the snow was too deep... but I kept going. I wrapped my scarf around my head and neck and kept going until we found what we came for. I had never seen my Uncle Pete's headstone. He passed in January of 1967 and the ground was frozen at the time. I loved him to death... and still do.
We had some remembrance time there and got back in the truck to drive out. I wanted to show them my family plot on the Kruczynski side, so stopped at the St. Michael's section and cleared off a couple of stones for Dennis to see. My grandmother, great-grandmother and great-great grandparents are all there. If there is an open spot, (which I haven't found out yet), I will ask if I can have it. Or not. But it's a nice thought.
Next up was the visit to St. Michael Polish National Cemetery in Highland, Indiana... or is it Hammond... never did quite figure that out. We found it though. It's a very, very old cemetery, with an iron gate and a road that hadn't been traveled in quite some time. I said "Do you think we should go in?" Uncle Jerry said "We can handle this." And with that, he put his truck into 4-wheel drive. I said, "We're all going to hell" and we drove in. There is a reddish brown chapel on the left, about in the middle of the cemetery, and my memory of the place as I saw it in 1981, was not reliable. Dennis had been a pallbearer for our great-grandmother, Mary Cieslak (Old Busia, we called her), and remembered vaguely that they had to lift the casket over standing headstones. Uncle Jerry went to the end of the road and turned around. He crept the truck ever so slowly, until Dennis said "I see LAK". He was out like a shot. I looked from my angle and saw "IESLAK". I jumped out and we both ran over to the stone. There it was. Felix and Mary Cieslak, our great-grandparents, who we knew and loved well. The stone is about 3 feet tall (maybe a bit less) and is an orange-brown color. But there is stands. We were SO lucky to have found it. More memories flowed for all of us... more tears... and more happiness. I drew a heart in the snow on top of the stone. We got back into the truck, and Uncle Jerry said "I need a beer." We all agreed that our next stop would be Kilroy's, where we met up with my cousin Tracy, and all shared our memories of the day and the wonderful people we were all privileged to have had in our lives. Right here I would like to mention that Tracy did not know me growing up, but we are soul-sisters in just about every way. We connected on a very deep level, and that girl will always have a special place in my heart.
Our next stop was the clinic where my cousin, Sue, works. She did not know we were coming, and may not have even known I was coming into town. But we waited patiently for someone to come to the front desk, and then waited unpatiently... then I shouted to get someone's attention. A woman came in with her child (obviously the next scheduled appointment) and just as Sue rounded the corner, I said "Whose butt do I have to kiss to be seen here?" She came around the desk and gave me a huge hug. I hadn't seen Sue since my father's wake a year earlier, and I have resolved that it won't take another funeral for me to see these people again. We told Sue about having a Monday Night Football party and she said she would come. She didn't disappoint. I was thrilled to see her, and everyone who came that evening. We had a good time, and it ended much too soon.
The next day was Tuesday, and Dennis had to catch an early flight back to Texas, which is his current residence. It felt empty with him gone, and I have only seen him twice in 20 years... both times in a six month period. DON'T do that again, Dennis! I won't live that long! Rant over. Tracy and I met back up at Uncle Jerry's place in Lynwood and we all talked about what we would do for New Year's Eve at her house. In the course of our planning, I don't know who said it, but it was decided that Tracy and I would come to Uncle Jerry's place and make Busia's pierogi recipe in the morning (since I'm the only one in the family who had it... my brother Don THINKS he has it... haha) and Uncle Jerry and Hank would make fish in the afternoon. Then we would bring it all to Tracy's house and have some drinks with Amy's family. So... Tracy and I went in search of ingredients. We went to several places to find dry cottage cheese and came up empty. What we did find was farmer's cheese with Polish writing on it at a local market in Cal City. We bought up all they had. I kinda figured we had more than we needed, but I wanted to be sure we didn't run short. I remember pierogi going very quickly when we were young. Anyway, after finding our ingredients, we met up again at 2pm at Popolano's in Lansing to see Alfreda (Fritzie) Kurz and Mitzie and Bernie Stone. Fritzie is my grandmother Sophie's first cousin on her father's side, and Mitzie is my father's first cousin, but we all grew up knowing each other, so it's all good. I didn't know if I would recognize Fritzie, but as soon as we got there, I saw her getting out of her car and knew her immediately. I said "Where are you going, young lady?" and she gave me that Cieslak smile that reminded me SO much of Busia.
The next few hours were spent reminiscing with Fritzie, Mitzie, Bernie, Uncle Jerry, Aunt Pat and Tracy. Oh and here's the weird thing... while there, the waitress called my uncle "Uncle Jerry". I looked at her and then at him. He went on to tell me that they (Grace and Dave) had a place across from my parents' place in Wisconsin. She looked at me and said "Wait... are you LYNN???" She went on to tell me that my mother talked about me all the time and they were Grace and Dave LUCK, who I had gone to school with! Oh. My. God. How small this world is getting. (Thank you for the reminder. I will write Grace this evening.) We all got to talking about the spirit world and how my grandfather (Dzia Dzia) saw his parents after they had passed years earlier. I was telling them how I've had visitors as well, and one of the ways I knew was that I would put my glass of iced tea down in a certain spot and it would shatter. Just then, I picked up my water glass and it broke about and inch and a half from the bottom, for absolutely no reason. There was no seam at that spot. The glass was not too cold and the table was not too hot. It just shattered. While the waitstaff hurried to clear the mess, we all sat there in amazement, still shocked at how I had said it and it happened. If there was ever any doubt, it's gone now. Once lunch was over, and before Fritzie got away from us, we moved to the bar area and took a group picture. I will never forget that luncheon, and everyone agreed not to let so much time go by without getting together again. Mission accomplished.
The next day was Wednesday, and I finally got a chance to have some downtime at JJ Kelley's. It's a nice little place, with great food and lots of atmosphere. Tracy works there and it was just like being home. By the way... for the record, JJ Kelley's has a much better fish platter than Popolano's... just in case there was any doubt.
Thursday... and time to make the pierogi. I did the mixing... Tracy and I did the taste testing. I had to alter the recipe due to using farmer's cheese instead of dry cottage cheese. Once we were satisfied that the filling was exactly as it should be, I made the dough... and BOY did I make the dough! I did 4 batches of it... used up all the flour and eggs I could find (went out and got more). Tracy did the filling and pinching (thank God... I was never good at that part) and Aunt Pat did the boiling. We saved the frying for later on that night at Tracy's. And BOY were they good! The only thing that was better was sharing them (and the fish!) with the family. Oh man. What a feast! What great company! What a way to spend New Year's Eve... with people I had not ever thought I would see again all in the same room... bullshitting like we used to. Old friends... good friends... new and old memories... all golden.
Amy and her husband came, and I got to meet Arly, who I knew only through Facebook at this point. Arly is named for her grandmother, my godmother, Aunt Shirley (given name Arlene). Arly is a delightful girl... smart and inquisitive. I also got to meet Rylee, who is Tracy's daughter. Rylee is also a very bright girl and a delight to be around. In the course of the evening, I had given out some amethysts, which were in my purse, but are not normally. I knew there was SOME reason for me to bring them with me, and I knew that reason was my family. The stones were meant to be given out. At one point in the evening, Hank said "We have something for you." I said "Okay" but Hank again said "Lynn, we HAVE something for you!" Tracy came out with Busia's afghan in her hands and put it in mine. Tracy and I both cried big crocodile tears. I remember watching Busia make that afghan in the late 60's or early 70's. It's heavy... made of wool, not that fake wool crap. It's an old lady's afghan... made of granny squares divided by black yarn... and now it's in my home. Again, Tracy and I have a very special bond. It's not going anywhere anytime soon. We all spent the evening talking about old and new things, memories and spirituality. When midnight came, we were all safe in our own homes (in my case, in my room), away from the drunks on the road. I couldn't think of a better way to end the old year.
I was still there in Chicago for two more days, but honestly, other than visiting Amy at her home and having her cut my hair, and sending all my assorted goodies (kielbasa, White Castles and Fannie May candies) back to Memphis, I can't tell you what I did... because I really don't know. The time came and it went. My flight back to Memphis was a saga in itself. But no more for now. I have crops to harvest and Mafia to wipe out. Haha... I love Facebook.
Nazdrowie'
Paczki Puta
P.S. Tracy will get the afghan back when I pass. I love you, Tracy!!!
