Except, how do you know which ones? They say that you revert to your native language when you count, which was a myth I believed in for a long time until I realized that – with my stronger languages at least – I’d just count in the language I was speaking in. And in a…
Category: Memories of an Anchor Baby
The Avon Lady Makes An Appearance, Albeit by Proxy
We’ve been back in the neighborhood for four days and so far we’ve been avoiding the Avon Lady just fine, though with the instinct of the truly calculating she must have sussed something out because she is sending her son over for Russian lessons from someone in the household who is truly qualified and should…
Ode to a Lost Friendship Polish Style II
Click here for Part I The thing with broken kids and kids from broken homes, we always recognize each other. What we do with that information is one thing. But there really is an invisible bond, accessible via the subtlest of signals that brings us kids together. Perhaps Babette was broken, too, but that didn’t…
Ode to a Lost Friendship Polish Style I
He came to me fully grown as a seven-year-old boy about to turn eight, so that’s how I always saw him, as the boy who lived below us in my building and was a year and a month younger than me. There were three of us on our side of the building, so that there…
The Author Contemplates a Childhood Friendship Lost
Meeting Ethnic Kin M. would kill me if she found out I was writing this. I can say this for sure because when I wrote a fun piece about our friendship and tracked her down to ok it, she took months to reply and then told me that the reason she did was she was…
Tales of the Polish Relatives: my grandfather (and a little bit of my mother’s mother too)
My grandfather was a deeply religious man, who had one final semester left at the seminary before he met my grandmother and decided that what God really wanted for him was to create a family and a life with the beautiful blonde peasant girl he saw. This is according to my mother and I will…
The Avon Lady is Not The Only One Who Hates Me – a treatise on my relationship with conservative societies
We ran into the Avon Lady again the other day. As always in these cases, I was with her neighbor and – again as always in these cases – we saw her son first. He greeted his neighbor, looked a question at me as though he wasn’t quite sure whether to talk to me or…
More Tales from the Polish Relatives: wujek Marian
The person who did stay in my mind, for a long time, was ciocia Basia’s husband, wujek Marian. Wujek Marian had married into the family (obviously) and when I first met him at the age of eleven I was scared of his dog. As an aside, before I discovered that I’m somewhat of a dog…
Unraveling the Mystery of the Polish Relatives: ciocia Basia
If I held off writing about her it’s (mainly) because she is the one I interacted with the least. She was my mother’s first sister (the third-born) and my mother hated her guts. My mementoes of her were admittedly vague. Apparently we’d first met when I was two and she joined forces with me and…
Unraveling the Mystery of the Polish Relatives: ciocia Magda part I
Ciocia* Magda was my mom’s youngest sister, and I met her (perhaps) properly when I was seven. At least that’s when I remember her properly. Family history says she stayed with us for two years but I can’t say if being seven was the start, the end or fell somewhere in between. I remember a…
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