The Little Traditions

I don’t know if it’s the New Year fabulousness that’s going on around me at the moment, or whether it’s got something to do with getting MARRIED THIS YEAR and the prospect of starting my own family, but this week I’ve thought a lot about the traditions of my family.

Last night was spent with these two lovely women, and we played cards, drank wine and ate delicious snacks. It dawned on me that I’ve experienced a version of this night many, many times before in my life. You see, we’re a card playing family. From a tender age I had card rules and etiquette drummed into me, especially by my slightly terrifying Grandpa with the booming voice.

I haven’t played cards in a long time, and so last night was a balm to my soul. I’ve felt unsettled since Mr Hello left, as the reality of leaving Australia soon myself becomes more and more apparent. I miss our family traditions. I don’t feel so far apart from my loved ones when I have traditions to ground me.

‘Our’ game is called May I, which is a relation of Big Bertha, Frustration and Rummy. We have played it for as long as I can remember, even when I was so small that the 11 cards were too much for my tiny hands to hold. I’d like to teach it to Mr H, and keep this card playing ritual alive. After all, he’s going to be a part of the family very soon, so he better get with the program before it’s too late 😉

Do you have any family traditions that make you feel connected?

 

Dual Citizenship Baby!

Yesterday I received the happy news that my application for Polish citizenship has come through at last. I was lucky to be eligible through my heritage, as my grandparents were Polish refugees before they settled in Australia permanently. I pursued this route because I wanted to stay in the UK, where I’d built a life for myself, but I also wanted to be there on my own two feet so to speak, with the same responsibilities and rights as a British citizen. No immigration issues means that my marriage is focussed on the love I share with my partner, not my need to get a slip of paper from the government. This news also means that I can start to work in time for the UK Term 2, which will be fantastic and gives me the opportunity to settle into a job properly before the wedding.

Getting the news gave rise to some really profound emotions. Over this year, while back in Australia in my Grandmother’s house, I’ve reconnected to their history and the story of their journey. My great aunt wrote a memoir about their time in Russia, Kazakhstan, Iran and Uganda, which was incredibly insightful and made me realise how different my life could have been if my family had not been so resilient. It was hard enough choosing to become an immigrant when I knew I could always return home if I wanted: I can hardly imagine how difficult it must have been to realise you could never go home. Even if you did, the country you loved was no longer the same.

I feel so proud, lucky and grateful to call myself Polish. I feel as though I don’t really deserve it. I feel as though this is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m looking forward to spending some more time in Poland once I’ve settled back in Europe.

Now for some photos of the people I have to thank for this great day:

 

My grandparents, Henryk and Halina.

 

 

Bon Fête des Pères!

A little blurry film photo, but you get the idea

  We went for a walk this morning, and somehow ended up in Karrakatta cemetery. “Let’s have a look,” I said, “maybe we can find your Dad!”. Having never met the man nor seen the grave, I was perhaps a little enthusiastic. We walked amongst the headstones, as he wasn’t quite sure where it was after all these years. After a few semi-confident expressions of “I think this is the place”, at last a name, in a language I can’t understand, jumped out at me. Despite the barrier, it was intensely familiar, and I silently sounded out the syllables. A moment spent in silence, he brushed the end of the tomb with his hand. We walked home, taking the long way. He told me all about native flowers, and I listened. Happy Father’s Day Papa, I couldn’t be more grateful for you.

My Weekend Has Been Spent #4

• Dearly hoping there is a hell of a lot more to the story of Baby Gammy than we’re hearing. Too horrid to think otherwise.
• Spending a ridiculous amount of time on A Practical Wedding. Yup, I’m getting hitched next year, and APW is the wedding website I never knew I always wanted. It has spreadsheet templates for everything wedding related you could ever imagine needing a spreadsheet for. It talks about feminism, motherhood, reclaiming (or claiming) the word wife, and even better it has a gay-wedding photographer advertised, who is called Pretty Witty and Gay. LOVE THIS.
• Working on a Squarespace wedding website. As a friend said the other day, I’m ‘bride-ing like a boss’ at the moment, but it’s not because I’m going all Bridezilla on you, it’s because we’ve got international flights to co-ordinate and I want to know how much booze I can afford. Christ this wedding shenanigan is going to cost me a fortune.
• Celebrating an anniversary (yay!)
• Wishing I hadn’t let jet lag get me into a sleep-at-2am habit. It’s ruining my non-routine, but at least it’s easy to keep…
• Staying up late watching the Commonwealth Games. Never been so enthusiastic before, but it’s made me go a bit funny this time!
• Starting a couch to 5k. Here we go then, right?
• Thinking about the Colette Hawthorn top I want to make. I’ve got some navy blue poplin and some wood effect buttons raring to go! All I’ve got to do now is clean the whole house so I can find the pattern. I put it in a safe place, ok?
• Enjoying spending time with my 91 year old Grandmother. She’s been through some tough times, but I have never met anyone who is so filled with joy at being alive. She truly delights me.
• Reflecting on Once My Mother. Helen’s journey from Russian occupied Poland, through Kazakhstan, Persia, Africa to Australia almost exactly mimics that of my grandparents. I can barely comprehend how lucky I am to be a migrant by choice. I’ve got it bloody good. I found the voice over a little dramatic and sincere, which was a bit distracting, but it was fascinating to see the story I was raised on up there on the big screen. Cue sobbing.

Hope you had great weekends. Thanks as always to Love Audrey for the post inspiration.

Autumn Reflections

 The last few weeks have been some of the strangest in all my 24 years and I’m still not quite sure how I’m feeling. My grandfather died recently, and whilst not unexpected, it’s been  both a bit of a fundamental shock to the system and something so far away from me that I’m not exactly sure that I am feeling anything yet.

I can’t remember The Last Time I Saw Him. It was at least two years ago, maybe a couple of weeks before I left Australia? I’m not sure. All I can remember now is a series of memories throughout my life where he was there. Like the time he lifted me on top of his shoulders and walked me around my my home town, when he and my Grandma were visiting.

I also remember his EXTREMELY LOUD VOICE. He would do a completely out of the blue shouty thing, if he could see we were about to hurt ourselves. It was more of a shock than hurting ourselves would have been. He’d incorporate it into his laugh as well, so that if he found something humorous it would be a hahah HAHAHAHA! sort of affair.
Deeply unsettling for the young’uns.

I also remember him as someone who had to do things properly. He despaired of me many times, not least when he witnessed my shameful card-shuffling skills. I could see him positively quivering in his seat, longing to snatch them from my incompetent child like hands and deal the round. Card games. I really remember the card games. You had to know the etiquette of playing cards. No touching before the dealer had finished, no bending the cards, and if you showed your hand to your neighbour it was your own damn fault. He made me the pedantic card player I am today.

He also taught me how to write an essay. I was frightened of it, as I’d made a special trip up to Perth to get some wisdom, and lo! it was all over in half an hour. That was surprising. He wasn’t really a surprising person, but I was surprised at the time that he was both so gentle on the teaching front, and didn’t whip out the LOUD voice on me. It was very civilised. I was grateful.

I’m trying to find out what I’m feeling right now, and it doesn’t feel the way I thought grief would feel. He’s just always been there, and now he’s not. He’s left a Max-shaped hole behind him.