Not one to talk a lot.
When she did,
She encouraged and praised.
Not one to charge into an activity.
What she did,
She did well.
Not one to chime.
Where she was,
She made a difference.
She was a peaceful one.
That is what
I will miss most,
Her quiet.
--the passing of a neighbor
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
I Remember Baba, Part III
How do I remember Baba?
Warmth,
a smile,
and a hug.
Baba was always in the kitchen when we came to see her whether it was on Virginia Street in the early days or in the apartment building I lived in for 18+ years. She was always cooking.
Not only was Baba a wonderful cook, but Grandpa and her owned their own grocery when they finally arrived in Gary, Indiana. Grandpa was a butcher in Chicago first. I also forgot to mention in the last part that Grandpa Martin was in the Russian Navy, and we have pictures to prove that.
A new home was built in Gary before the Depression but was lost due to hard times. I remember them having a very small store in a bad part of town when I was very young. They lived behind the store and that's where I remember Baba most endearingly.
I was always anxious to visit Baba. She always loved to see us and always had something warm to feed us. Her bed had a feather blanket that would puff up so big. It was just always fun to get in that bed and jump around and relish that blanket, looking up into the high ceilings.
I was told she use to live upstairs for awhile but moved down to be behind the small grocery. I remember very vaguely that there was activity between the kitchen and the grocery shop with Baba or Grandpa going back and forth. As days wore on, Grandpa just sat in a chair in the kitchen and never said anything. I don't remember Grandpa talking to me, but we were encouraged to talk to him. Baba was still her pleasant self, always welcoming her grandchildren and cooking.
In the kitchen, Baba had a large set of windows where the table and chairs sat. The table was up next to the windows. Why? She had an array of African violets in all colors, growing their hearts out. It was a southern exposure--maybe the secret to African violets or was it just Baba?
One winter, she asked me to pick out one baby violet that I could choose to take home. Oh, my, what a treat--my own African violet. African violets have babies, you know. Take a leaf and immerse it in dirt, and a baby plant grows out of the leaf! (It only takes 2-4 weeks when I researched.). I took that plant she gave me and covered it with wax paper to make sure when I went out, the cold air would not kill it. I remember holding it so close and carefully and thinking, "It cannot die. I will get it home safely."
When I was older I tried to have a conglomeration of African violets in my bay window when raising my kids. I couldn't make them grow very long. I tried and tried, but they just didn't prosper in my care. That's why African violets still remind me of Baba. She was a special expert, and they are special plants.
The other natural item that reminded me of her was the herb dill. I wrote about dill a couple of years ago in my blog. I grow dill all over my gardens just to experience the smell and the remembrance of Baba.
Baba had a small garden in the back of her apartment that was all gated up. She grew a myriad of vegetables--tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, beets, dill and probably more. I can still remember opening the gate to the garden and peering in, only to smell dill.
Plant some dill, and after a rain, just smell the air--stupendous!
When she finally moved into our apartment building, my Auntie Mary took care of her, and she still was cooking up a storm. She loved soups and making the most delicious hamburgers full of good things. She also made the best meatball soup with rice. I asked her for the recipe and she smiled and chuckled, "No recipe. I just make it." To this day, I still can't make that meatball soup like she did. Was it just a recipe or the woman behind the recipe? I think it was the woman.
I remember Baba.
Warm.
Smiling.
Loving.
Nurturing.
Baba became bed-ridden due to her diabetes and died at the age of 91. I had been to college and married by this time. This was my grandmother of whom I knew so little.
Warmth,
a smile,
and a hug.
Baba was always in the kitchen when we came to see her whether it was on Virginia Street in the early days or in the apartment building I lived in for 18+ years. She was always cooking.
Not only was Baba a wonderful cook, but Grandpa and her owned their own grocery when they finally arrived in Gary, Indiana. Grandpa was a butcher in Chicago first. I also forgot to mention in the last part that Grandpa Martin was in the Russian Navy, and we have pictures to prove that.
A new home was built in Gary before the Depression but was lost due to hard times. I remember them having a very small store in a bad part of town when I was very young. They lived behind the store and that's where I remember Baba most endearingly.
I was told she use to live upstairs for awhile but moved down to be behind the small grocery. I remember very vaguely that there was activity between the kitchen and the grocery shop with Baba or Grandpa going back and forth. As days wore on, Grandpa just sat in a chair in the kitchen and never said anything. I don't remember Grandpa talking to me, but we were encouraged to talk to him. Baba was still her pleasant self, always welcoming her grandchildren and cooking.
In the kitchen, Baba had a large set of windows where the table and chairs sat. The table was up next to the windows. Why? She had an array of African violets in all colors, growing their hearts out. It was a southern exposure--maybe the secret to African violets or was it just Baba?
One winter, she asked me to pick out one baby violet that I could choose to take home. Oh, my, what a treat--my own African violet. African violets have babies, you know. Take a leaf and immerse it in dirt, and a baby plant grows out of the leaf! (It only takes 2-4 weeks when I researched.). I took that plant she gave me and covered it with wax paper to make sure when I went out, the cold air would not kill it. I remember holding it so close and carefully and thinking, "It cannot die. I will get it home safely."
When I was older I tried to have a conglomeration of African violets in my bay window when raising my kids. I couldn't make them grow very long. I tried and tried, but they just didn't prosper in my care. That's why African violets still remind me of Baba. She was a special expert, and they are special plants.
The other natural item that reminded me of her was the herb dill. I wrote about dill a couple of years ago in my blog. I grow dill all over my gardens just to experience the smell and the remembrance of Baba.
Baba had a small garden in the back of her apartment that was all gated up. She grew a myriad of vegetables--tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, beets, dill and probably more. I can still remember opening the gate to the garden and peering in, only to smell dill.
Plant some dill, and after a rain, just smell the air--stupendous!
When she finally moved into our apartment building, my Auntie Mary took care of her, and she still was cooking up a storm. She loved soups and making the most delicious hamburgers full of good things. She also made the best meatball soup with rice. I asked her for the recipe and she smiled and chuckled, "No recipe. I just make it." To this day, I still can't make that meatball soup like she did. Was it just a recipe or the woman behind the recipe? I think it was the woman.
I remember Baba.
Warm.
Smiling.
Loving.
Nurturing.
Baba became bed-ridden due to her diabetes and died at the age of 91. I had been to college and married by this time. This was my grandmother of whom I knew so little.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Truly Celebrating Saturday
I went to a Saturday faith-based retreat with my friend Tammy and my daughter-in-law Amanda. "It was called Balance, Busyness and Not Doing It All" with Brenda Yoder of Shipshewana, IN. I was so excited that Amanda accepted my invitation. This was the first time we did something together without children and other family members. This was Amanda's day to get away from it all and maybe get some inspiration for her life that never stops.
The retreat was really for young mothers with children who are trying to balance their busy lives between work and home. I learned some things I wished I had known when I was a young mother. I never thought there would be something special for me today.
Many door prizes were handed out during the day. One book of the give away was called How to Talk So Your Husband Will Listen And Listen So Your Husband Will Talk by Rick Johnson. I told myself that would be the book for me right now. Retired now 4 years and my husband 3 years retired--it has been an adjustment. My friend Tammy looked at me and then...
...my number was read off by the speaker!! I couldn't raise my hand or believe I had won that book. Was this really my book now? Was it luck, chance, or something higher than all of this? I felt I was there for a reason, too.
Spiritually celebrating today.
The retreat was really for young mothers with children who are trying to balance their busy lives between work and home. I learned some things I wished I had known when I was a young mother. I never thought there would be something special for me today.
Many door prizes were handed out during the day. One book of the give away was called How to Talk So Your Husband Will Listen And Listen So Your Husband Will Talk by Rick Johnson. I told myself that would be the book for me right now. Retired now 4 years and my husband 3 years retired--it has been an adjustment. My friend Tammy looked at me and then...
...my number was read off by the speaker!! I couldn't raise my hand or believe I had won that book. Was this really my book now? Was it luck, chance, or something higher than all of this? I felt I was there for a reason, too.
Spiritually celebrating today.
Monday, March 17, 2014
I Remember Baba, Part II
The more I concentrate on the dates in the "Record" of Auntie Mary's, more and more questions come up. Information is repeated and out of order, but the basics are there. I have added a few family dates and that adds to the disorganization. I need to create some organization. I need to do more.
Baba was born May 15, 1880 in Kovno, rural Ulbania now known as Kaunas, Lithuania. I've taken the first part of this information from the Record and Googled the present names of the cities in Russia. I'm no historian, but that's where the information stands now.
Baba's maiden name was Mary Carlin. Her parents' names were mother Agatha and father Casmir. Her first married name was Schapalinski. What happened to the marriage and to him?
The only oral story I have of Baba in Russia from my Auntie Mary is that she cooked for a Russian priest. My cousin Sharon shared her only oral story from her mom Auntie Mary. "Baba got out of Kiev, Russian by crossing mountains with potato sacks on her feet. Nuns from the convent helped." Did this priest live in Kiev? Where did Baba go from there?
Baba emigrated to the United States and arrived in New York City in 1905. She officially became a United States citizen on November 24, 1953. I remember her practicing her name in order to sign the documents. She could not read or write. I was 6 years old at the time.
My grandpa Thomas Martin (Marten) (Martenuk) (?) was born January 20, 1880 in Belogorodka, Russia. He emigrated to the US and arrived in New York in May 1907 on a vessel of the Cunard Line. He became a United States citizen on May 12, 1924. I understand names were changed on Ellis Island due to misunderstandings and misspellings and also to make them simpler--Americanized.
Baba and Grandpa were married in Chicago, IL on May 29, 1913. However, my Auntie Helen was born July 4, 1905 in New York, and Auntie Mary was born April 29, 1909 in Chicago. This is the part my mom didn't want to hear. Helen from the first marriage? Mary? My mom told me Grandpa and Baba met on the boat coming over to America?? Never questioned this--very romantic.
My Uncle Walter was born November 26, 1914. My mom Lillian was born April 30, 1919.
So many questions.
Part III--How I remember Baba
Baba was born May 15, 1880 in Kovno, rural Ulbania now known as Kaunas, Lithuania. I've taken the first part of this information from the Record and Googled the present names of the cities in Russia. I'm no historian, but that's where the information stands now.
Baba's maiden name was Mary Carlin. Her parents' names were mother Agatha and father Casmir. Her first married name was Schapalinski. What happened to the marriage and to him?
The only oral story I have of Baba in Russia from my Auntie Mary is that she cooked for a Russian priest. My cousin Sharon shared her only oral story from her mom Auntie Mary. "Baba got out of Kiev, Russian by crossing mountains with potato sacks on her feet. Nuns from the convent helped." Did this priest live in Kiev? Where did Baba go from there?
Baba emigrated to the United States and arrived in New York City in 1905. She officially became a United States citizen on November 24, 1953. I remember her practicing her name in order to sign the documents. She could not read or write. I was 6 years old at the time.
My grandpa Thomas Martin (Marten) (Martenuk) (?) was born January 20, 1880 in Belogorodka, Russia. He emigrated to the US and arrived in New York in May 1907 on a vessel of the Cunard Line. He became a United States citizen on May 12, 1924. I understand names were changed on Ellis Island due to misunderstandings and misspellings and also to make them simpler--Americanized.
Baba and Grandpa were married in Chicago, IL on May 29, 1913. However, my Auntie Helen was born July 4, 1905 in New York, and Auntie Mary was born April 29, 1909 in Chicago. This is the part my mom didn't want to hear. Helen from the first marriage? Mary? My mom told me Grandpa and Baba met on the boat coming over to America?? Never questioned this--very romantic.
 |
| Auntie Helen, Grandpa, Baba, and Auntie Mary (on their wedding day?) |
 |
| Uncle Walter, Grandpa, Auntie Helen, Auntie Mary, Baba, and Lillian |
My Uncle Walter was born November 26, 1914. My mom Lillian was born April 30, 1919.
So many questions.
Part III--How I remember Baba
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Celebration in Pictures
Once again, March serves as that month of new beginnings.
Friday, March 14, 2014
I Remember Baba, Part I
Thanks to a friend reading my blog, I've decided to research a little more on my mother's lineage. Thanks, Ruth M. You have stirred the ashes again. I may not know much about Baba's past in Lithuania, but I can remember Baba.
I was tempted in the past to pursue the genealogy of my family at the Fort Wayne Library about 30 years ago but was discouraged by my mother Lillian not wanting to know the reality of her parents' background. Her two older sisters were half sisters by dates listed in the "book." She didn't want to listen. She never told me anything of my grandparents either. Everything was always hush, hush. I continued to grow up with that "hush" for many years to come.
The only knowledge I have is from a "Record" book my Auntie Mary kept tucked in her desk. It was her way of noting some facts about the family background and birthdays. I guess it was somewhat of a family tree with no complete history. No information was shared from this book. Pictures were passed down with no names or dates.
My mom gave the book to me in 2001. My Auntie Mary passed away in 2003, losing much of her memory long before that, and then my mom died in 2005. I don't know how my mom received this book. I never asked questions of anyone or anything. That was the way of it. My brother Richard never claimed to know anything about Baba' past, and Auntie Mary's daughter Sharon didn't know much either. We celebrated holidays but never celebrated family. Family was there for sure, but the joy wasn't. Hard life for many, I presume. I ran away from family looking for something more and less mysterious.
Part II--Baba's Early history as in the "Record."
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Icicles' Last Hurrah
Okay, winter mini-blizzard over. Back to inklings of spring like we experienced the beginning of the week--the 40's!!
Today wasn't as warm as they predicted, but icicles have formed off the porch roof. The icicles say, "Look, look at me! I am snow, I am ice, I am dripping water. How wonderful am I? This might be your last chance to see me for a long time."
I like icicles unless they come crushing down like they did when I arrived at home this afternoon and unlocked the door--not too large and right down the back of my head and down my neck. Good that they weren't big and heavy icicles.
According to Accuweather on the web, nothing below freezing for the next month and beyond, I hope.
I feel the excitement of warmer temps and sunshine. Is this the changing of the seasons thing? How could I live in a warmer climate when Indiana has it all? There is something to that. But you have to take the bad with the good constantly.
Savor the icicles, my fellow bloggers.
I like icicles unless they come crushing down like they did when I arrived at home this afternoon and unlocked the door--not too large and right down the back of my head and down my neck. Good that they weren't big and heavy icicles.
According to Accuweather on the web, nothing below freezing for the next month and beyond, I hope.
I feel the excitement of warmer temps and sunshine. Is this the changing of the seasons thing? How could I live in a warmer climate when Indiana has it all? There is something to that. But you have to take the bad with the good constantly.
Savor the icicles, my fellow bloggers.
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