Member-only story
For the first time in months, I’m feeling ahead of the game!
Are you ready for December?
Keeping traditions alive seems even more important these days
In my son’s e-learning class, he had to write about his “culture,” and honestly, I felt a little bad for him. I grew up in a small farming community — a tiny Catholic church where everyone knew everyone’s business. We had a large number of Polish families that we spent nearly all of our time with until my dad died, and everything changed — sort of. We found out who had our backs. Like when the tornado came through and downed several trees — my friendless step-father had zero support, yet my Mom could make one phone call. Despite the tension caused by her choice in spouse, we would have a team of hard-working men cutting, clearing, singing, and genuinely happy to be together helping the married widow.
You see, just because my Mom made an unpopular choice, the community still embraced her.
To this day, I know that I can call the sons and daughters of that community, and they would help the best they can.
My son doesn’t have that. My son lives in a suburban house within a community not bound by stories of the old country or how the crops of 1962 were underwater. It’s different. Maybe it’s better?
