First thing next morning we are off to Tropie. Zenon gets out of the car and just walks right up to who we assumed is a neighbor and starts asking him questions about the possible location of my family….try that one in the U.S.! He gets back in the car and says, “your cousin lives across the street” WHAT?!?
For many years I have been trying to find my Polish relatives. I knew they existed in the 1960’s because I remember sending clothing to “cousins”, however, I was young and did not know the value of family. In the meantime, life got in the way and my search was hit and miss. When I retired and my search became an addiction. The one bit of information I had was 3 letters to my babcia, from my swietny dziadek in the 1920’s. He told of very sad stories about their life at the time and one story really touched our hearts; it was about his grandson, Josef. The letter told about how sick the child was and he wasn’t expected to live, mostly because they could not afford the medicine to make him well. We always wondered what had happened to this little boy.
At some point I talked my husband (of Irish descent) into going to Poland and had no idea what our adventure would bring. Why would anyone go to Poland?