Falcon Culture Issue 1. Dec. 2014 | Page 3

My family’s 06 Polonian-American Christmas O ver the years I have written about Christmas celebrations in Poland and Polonia, but one reader asked: “Why don’t you ever write about how your Polish/Polonian Affairs Writer Polish-American family celebrated Christmas?” He had a point, so for what it’s worth, today I’m gathering some memories from years ago when I was growing up in the Detroit-Hamtramck area. Robert Strybell, Like most Pol-Am families of that period, we celebrated a traditional Wigilia or Christmas Eve supper, and that was what set Polonians apart from those of other nationalities. The typical All-American families mainly highlighted “that big turkey dinner with all the trimmings” on Christmas Day. In many families that caused problems, because both sides of the family would want their kids and grandkids over on “that big day.” To keep both sides happy, after a few hours at one place, many a harried dad would bundle his gang into the car and head for the other side of the family- for more food, drink, presents and commotion. If the husband’s and wife’s families lived some distance apart, that meant a day of hassle, dressing the kids, loading the car, driving across the metropolitan area, unloading the car, undressing the kids, etc., etc. Fire Place: Bigstock.com/ LisaTuray. Fortunately, my family experienced no such problems: Wigilia was always at the home of my paternal grandparents – Kazimiera and Zdzisław Strybel, and Christmas dinner the next day was always hosted by my mother’s folks – Katarzyna and Jan Kupczyński. Babcia Kazia, as I always called her, was a real Polish traditionalist who attached great importance to all the Polish rituals, symbols and foods. Things always began with the breaking and sharing of opłatek. Then came the Wigilia delicacies – clear mushroom noodle soup, herring in sour cream, fried walleye, sauerkraut and mushrooms, pierogi, dried fruit compote and noodles and poppyseeds. No deli item was in sight, as everything was made from scratch. After supper, kolędy were played on 78 rpm records, and gifts from under the Christmas tree were passed out. As the eldest grandson, I usually got to play Santa Claus but without the beard and costume. Eventually we left for Pasterka, Midnight Mass, and my favorite was that celebrated at the imposing cathedral-like Church of St Florian in nearby Hamtramck, then a Polish suburb. The kolędy sung by the seminarians of Father Henry Waraksa’s Schola Cantorum from the Polish Seminary at Orchard Lake provided great spiritual uplift. On Christmas Day, we went to dinner prepared by Babcia Kupczyńska, so things fell into place nicely and there was no pressure to visit both sides of the family on the same day. One reason for that was that Babcia Kupczyńska never prepared an elaborate Wigilia of the kind the Strybel grandparents did. The reason: she had to tend her little beer, wine and candy store until late in the evening, and made do with an abbreviated version of the celebration for just herself, Dziadek and their two, and later one still-at-home daughter. Naturally there was opłatek, herring and sauerkraut and Lima beans, maybe some fried fish. Dziadek was known to spread honey on his opłatek. At the Kupczyńskis, the main event was Christmas Day when the little store was closed. Twenty-five people often showed up for the event. There was the run-of-the-mill turkey with cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes and gravy, but the main attraction was Babcia’s homemade baked kiełbasa. For the past several days after coming home from her store at night, she would laboriously cut pork butt with a knife into tiny bits with which the casings would be stuffed. Everyone raved over that unforgettable taste, texture and aroma of her kiełbasa. All in all, things were not all that spectacular. In many ways similar low-key celebrations were taking place all over Polish America. And probably in many of those families things took a downturn after the grandparents’ generation went on to their reward. After that, things were never quite the same. But through the vehicle of imagination we can relive the sights, sounds and smells of those bygone times as well as picture the smiling or at times frowning faces of long deceased loved ones. Memories are one thing no one can rob us of!