Polish For Sure

Cole, my #1 grandson, has a girl friend, the comely, Barb.  Actually, she’s more than a girl friend.  They are engaged.  Some day Barb will be Cole’s first wife.  But that’s not what I’m getting at.  Barb’s parents are from Poland, and she and her Mom have visited Poland several times, and they are going again next week.

That reminded me of the time Mom got a letter from Poland.  Mom could speak Polish, but she could not read it.   She carried the letter around for a couple of weeks before she found someone who could read it.  The letter was from someone related to Grampa Tony.  This person was a member of a choir that was touring the US, and Milwaukee was one of their stops.

Unfortunately, by the time Mom got the letter translated, the choir had come and gone.  But, wow, I thought, there are folks in Poland who remember Grampa Tony!

Not long after that, it was a Sunday, I met  Dad and  Uncle Bob at the Happy Tap in West Allis.  I know it was a Sunday, because at the Happy Tap, for regulars, the first drink on Sunday was on the house.  Dad and Bob were regulars, but only on Sundays.  We had our free drinks, and then each of us bought a round.

I told the story of Mom’s letter from Poland.  And I ended up by saying I’d like to go to Poland someday, and try and find some of Grampa’s relatives.

My father gasped, he almost choked on his beer.  “Poland!  Poland!?  Wouldn’t you rather go to Ireland?”

I wanted to say something about how many generations it has been since our people had come from the Old Country, and how people in Poland still remembered Grampa.  But before I said anything, Uncle Bob spoke up.

“Why would he go to Ireland?  We’re Scots!”