← My mother as young woman in Poland before WWII

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She lived through two world wars, lost her country and her family through forced laborer in Nazi Germany, communist take over and then immigration to America. She never tired of talking about her family in Poland. 

In 2006 I am looking for my great grandparents buried in the cemetery in a town called Racławice. The one church, one cemetery for all the local villages was Racławice. The faithful had to walk the distance or take horse and carriage for church services.

   I am with my husband, my brother and his wife and my niece. We are without any preparation, any other research whatsoever, armed with just countless family stories, the names of her grandparents and where they are buried. 

   I don’t know what I was thinking.  The cemetery is large, the burial site for many of the small, surrounding villages for many years. I thought it would be small. We fan out, we wander, we are unsuccessful (of course!). We start to leave. On our way through the gate a man passes us and hearing us speaking English stops us and says to me in Polish “Were you looking for family?”  I say yes but without success. He asks the name and says “I’ve seen it somewhere.”  I think to myself, what are the chances? but we head back in to search and sure enough, after a while he shouts out. 

    We could never have found it ourselves, tucked away on a little knoll near a tree. On the crucifix their names are engraved on the teensiest little metal plaque. 

     The cement stone on the ground has eroded and is so decrepit and covered in moss as to be almost unreadable. But we found them:  Anna Warchoł and Tomasz Zalewski, my mother’s grandparents on her father’s side; great grandparents to me and my brothers and great, great grandparents to my niece. An amazing feeling.

      We clean it as best we can. Take photos. Say a prayer. Express our thanks to the man who, like in the best of fairy tales, appears unexpectedly just at the right moment to come to our aid. Another minute and we would have been gone, this story untold.

←    In September of  2024  I revisit the grave.  The marker on the ground is unrecognizable, their names erased. I am heartsick.


  I resolve not to let their names disappear into the ground, for the sake of my mother, who so valued family. My cousins Anna and Jadzia in Poland are ken to help and contact a local monument company to make a new headstone and a slab the length of a coffin that is traditional for graves in Polish cemeteries. They keep me posted via phone calls, emails, send photos. My brothers come together to share the cost, all in memory of our mother and ancestors.

On this November 2nd, 2025, All Soul's Day, on my mother’s birthday, her grandparents have a new gravestone, one that will last another hundred years, one that future generations will be able to locate more easily, one where they can leave their flowers and their candles and fulfill the Polish saying:  “Kto  żyje w pamięci swych bliskich,  żyje wiecznie” meaning, He who lives in the memory of his closest, lives forever.

                      In memoriam. Anna Warchoł (1863-1909) and Tomasz Zalewski(1858-1898)

For customs and traditions associated with All Soul's Day or death and burial customs of Poland see: Polish Customs, Traditions and Folklore, Hippocrene Books, Inc. www.amazon.com/Polish-Customs-Traditions-Folklore-Hodorowicz/dp/0781814510/ref=sr_1_1?crid=45WRULWPPZY7&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.q2FzX-R1lP6KGlidZ61Mm2IeBISY4ykf5zVNqCV3xseM1a-jULlckF-6fKfMGhys.tVhxs2RmMjLziMTxtzzk7ZXbhJZ76FzE0WjwLXlzpOs&dib_tag=se&keywords=hodorowicz-knab%2C+sophie+polish+traditions%2C+customs%2C+and+folklore&qid=1762088959&sprefix=Polish

Pumpkins drying on top of a lean-to at another homestead in Horodyszcze ​  polona.pl

    I was able to locate the village in the Słownik geograficzny Królestwa Polskiego i innych krajów słowiańskich, Tom III (Geographical Dictionary of the Kingdom of Poland and other Slavic countries Vol.3 p.144) which often gives information about what is cultivated in the surrounding area but there was no mention.

     Up until World War II, the village was once part of Poland, now belonging to Belarus. The former eastern borderlands of Poland became parts of Ukraine, Lithuania and Belarus and called the Kresy, the former Eastern borderlands of Poland.

Here is another homestead also in Polesie the village of Zajezier also now Belarus.  Narodowy Archiwum Cyfrowy. 1936 public domain

    Maybe someone reading this has knowledge of the Polesie region and can help enlighten us as to this particular aspect of Polish culture and history.

For more about Poland and it's country culinary heritage:
Polish Country Kitchen Cookbook by Sophie Hodorowicz Knab. Hippocrene Books, Inc. https://www.hippocrenebooks.com/store/p369/Polish_Country_Kitchen_Cookbook%3A_Expanded_Edition.html

Saint Hildegard was a 12th-century German Benedictine nun who was a visionary, poet, composer, naturalist, scientist, herbalist, theologian and one of the greatest figures of the 12th century. She wrote theological and botanical texts,  two books on medicine and herbal cures and was a true pioneer in the field of natural medicine and a healthy lifestyle. Her many works explored not only the spiritual dimension of humanity but also emphasized the importance of harmony between body and mind.
←​ Photo: Strona Zdrowia

 

 ← Her life story was available in print in Poland by 1640 and her teachings are still widely read and promoted by organizations such as Polskie Centrum Św. Hildegardy Alfreda Walkowska, i.e., the Polish Center of Saint Hildegard Alfreda Walkowska and Polskie Towarzystwo Przyjacioł Św. Hildegardy, the Polish Society of Friends of Saint Hildegard.

 Saint Hildegard's found favor in Poland primarily through her wholistic approach to a healthy lifestyle. She regarded nutrition extremely important for human health. Her diet recommendations were based on the consumption of spelt, an ancient grain and a type of wheat (Triticum spelta), said to improve digestion, metabolism and lower cholesterol. She urged eating vegetables, fruit, and moderate amounts of meat. While this is common knowledge in today’s modern scientific era, one can’t help but be impressed that Hildegard was so ahead of her time during the 12th century!  Her healthy lifestyle also included natural healing methods through the use of herbs.

     Popular in Poland is Wino Pietruszkowe Św. Hildegardy,  St. Hildegard’s Parsley Wine, which was purported (and still is according to Polish websites) to be a natural remedy for heart problems, circulation and rheumatic ailments.

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​←Photo:Catholicsaintmedals.com

Her theological and scientific writings, which included accounts of her mystical visions, her detailed works on medicine and natural science as well as leading a life of virtue led her to be added to the list of saints of the Roman Catholic Church.  She was also declared to be a Doctor of the Church. This made her the fourth female Doctor in the history of the Church, following St. Catherine of Siena, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, and St. Teresa of Ávila.

 Sources:https://blog.ogrodyhildegardy.pl/pl/wino-pietruszkowe-sw-hildegardy
                https://swiat-orkiszu.pl/blog/166_WINO-PIETRUSZKOWE-%C5%9AW--HILDEGARDY
                 Polish Herbs, Flowers and Folk Medicine. Hippocrene Books, Inc.  
   https://www.hippocrenebooks.com/store/p467/Polish_Herbs_Flowers_and_Folk_Medicine.htm

← Photo depicting round up of individuals at Evangelical Reformed Church in Warsaw located on Solidarność Street.    Wkipedia.pl photo

Those who met the criteria were forcibly and promptly shipped to German territories against their will.  

The German war economy was achieved by the impressment and deportation of millions of individuals from their homeland into Germany against their will and  forced to work for the benefit of the German Reich.

Marked with the letter “P” for  Pole, they were exploited for their labor where they died from abuse, hunger, physical illness and suicide.

   Footnotes:
​  1 Trial of War Criminals before the  International Military Tribunal Nuremberg, Germany Volume 
  2 Document L-3 Nazi Conspiracy and Aggression Volume 8

     The story of the girls and women of Poland who were forcibly taken from their homes in Poland, sent to Germany and exploited for their labor during World War II can be found in the book: Wearing the Letter P: Polish Women as Forced Laborers in Nazi Germany 1939-1945. Hippocrene Books, Inc.

https://www.hippocrenebooks.com/store/p400/Wearing_the_Letter_P%3A_Polish_Women_as_Forced_Laborers_in_Nazi_Germany%2C_1939-1945.htm

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​It’s noon on Sunday on a hot summer day in the 1960’s. The sun is pouring into the kitchen. There are pots boiling on top of every burner of the stove.  We are still in our church-going clothes sitting down to our big Sunday meal after mass. Everybody is sweating buckets. What does my mother serve up?  Hot soup. Not just any soup but hot chicken soup.

While such a dish may have been common among the wealthy, chicken soup was considered a luxury among the poorer population.

For one thing, in the barnyards of the less well-to-do, chickens were kept for their egg laying abilities, not to eat but to sell in order to buy things like salt and/or kerosene to light lamps. When the chicken got “old” and not laying as well, it was sacrificed to make soup for a special occasion like a Sunday dinner.
Because making the broth required long, slow cooking to release the flavors, it had to be made on a day when there was time to prepare such a dish, most often on a Sunday when there was no work in the fields.
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←Sierpc, Poland. Photo by Edward Knab
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​The people of Warsaw wanted their city, their country back in their own control and endured incredible hardships and sacrifices, as well as death and destruction during its incredible fight against tremendous odds. The deaths and carnage was of such magnitude as to leave the city and its people with scars that linger to this day.  ​Over the decades, the city of Warsaw has paid tribute to its freedom fighters with hundreds of plaques and monuments throughout the city including  this shrine, erected on the grounds of St. Anthony of Padua Church on Senatorski Street.

From the front it appears as a typical shrine dedicated to the Virgin Mary with Child, topped with a bell and a cross.   It is the back that reveals its purpose and to whom it is dedicated:  two letters, P joined with the letter W, stands for Polska Walczy (Poland Fights), the symbol of the Warsaw Uprising, of a fighting Poland.   It honors the freedom fighters that fought and died on the church grounds during combat as well as the civilians who were murdered there by the Nazi’s.

The Poland Fights symbol can be seen on Polish flags, monuments and medals.
Also carved into this religious shrine, it reveals the intertwining of Polish faith with patriotism and the fight for freedom. 


Photo source: https://www.facebook.com/groups/429606714062209/permalink/2322506964772165 Kapliczki przydrozne Waldemar Torba

For more about the purpose and role of shrines in the cities and countryside of Poland read:
Spirit of Place: The Roadside Shrines of Poland. Hippocrene Books, Inc. 2023

     A view of a cluster of linden flower on tree branch. Knab photo.

     The tree was an important chain in nature's cycle to provide the country folk with a remedy for bad coughs or feverish colds, especially during the winter season. Actively collected and dried during its flowering season, a few of the flowers were placed in a cup, and covered with boiling water and allowed to steep.  This linden tea reduced a cough, induced sweating and  broke a fever, much to the joy and satisfaction of the individual.

     ​As depicted in the above photo, the flowers were often collected by housewives off the branches during blossoming time in July, dried and placed in cloth bags and saved for the winter months when colds, coughs and sore throats were much more frequent.  Photo: Facebook Group : Dawna Wieś na Zdjęciach. Kamil Dec.

     Considered a tree of inestimable value, the linden is one of the most frequently planted trees in Polish gardens. Laden with creamy white to light yellow flowers, the tree exudes the sweetest fragrance imaginable that perfumes the air across great distances. Sensing the nectar, bees come from far and wide to gather it, so that there is a constant buzzing and humming around the blossoming branches. Old, ancient trees, often with hollowed out areas in their trunks, provided prime places for the colonization of bees which also provided country folk with honey for use as a sweetener, for making mead, as well as utilizing the beeswax for making candles.

So beloved, the people of Poland named the month of July lipiec, after the lipa tree.

Thanks for reading!

For more information about how plants and herbs were once used in Poland: Polish Herbs, Flowers and Folk Medicine and Polish Customs, Traditions and Folklore, both by Hippocrene Books, Inc.

​In this particular memory, I think I had just graduated from 8th grade. I was old enough to have “working papers” that allowed me to be part of farm labor with written parental consent. My mother was happy to sign the papers.

     Children picking berries to earn money was a common, even necessary occupation for children in Poland. She often told the story of how she and her siblings picked blueberries growing wild in the forests and sold enough baskets in order to be able to buy shoes for school in the fall.
      I’m not sure why my brothers didn’t join me this particular day as we usually picked together but I got up early, made a jelly and butter sandwich and walked the 3 miles to the Employment Office. There were other people already there not unlike myself – other immigrant kids, just kids wanting to earn some money and adults of Italian and Hispanic heritage.
     At 8 am the pick-up trucks start to pull up in front of the Employment Office. Everybody piles into the back of the nearest truck. Most have been fitted with planks of wood along the long sides to make a bench. The unspoken rule was that this was for the adults. Kids just sat down on the bed of the truck, squeezed in together like so many sardines.  Nobody checks our “papers.” Did we even know the name of our farmer?  Or where we were going? No. This is the early 60’s. A different world from today.
     We ride like this all the way across the county line into open farmlands with acres and acres of strawberry fields. We pile out of the trucks, walk towards a wooden table already set up with a tablet and money box.  There are mountains of square, wooden, one-quart baskets nearby and “flats,” - flat, rectangular boxes that would hold eight one-quart baskets at a time.  Already picking in the fields are migrant workers.  I don’t know what country they were from but they converse to one another in Spanish. The field boss (maybe the owner? who knew? I didn’t) assigns everyone a row. The women, dressed in old house dresses covered with even older aprons, chat together in Italian and choose rows close to one another. I’m assigned my own row.  I’m instructed to pick clean, not to leave ripe berries behind, but to look carefully under all the leaves.  I start filling up a one-quart basket.  The pay is 5 cents for every quart basket picked.  
      Some squat while picking, some bend over the rows. Eventually, you have to change it up because both positions are hard to maintain during the long, hot summer day. Sometimes you kneel alongside, sometimes you sit just in the narrow space between the rows but it’s awkward and hard to move along the row. 
     The strawberries are large. Much better than some farms where it’s second pickings and the strawberries are smaller, and it’s harder to fill a basket quickly. Another perk: we can eat as many strawberries as we want.   I take up flats of eight quarts to the table where someone logs my numbers. The sun rises higher.  Soon I wish I had a bandana across my forehead to catch the sweat like the migrant workers or a kerchief tied at the back of the neck like the Italian women. I’d forgotten my straw hat.  The sun is now beating down.  I have no one to talk to or complain to. Like immigrants have done throughout history, in factories and in farm labor, I put my head down and keep working. There is no other choice. The boss determines when the day is done and there’s no place to hide. There isn’t a tree in sight to catch some shade.
     In the meantime, my head fills with the sound of the Italian women and Spanish migrants talking. I don’t understand a word but there’s humor and laughter. There’s quiet murmuring.   I pick quart after quart and listen. Somewhere in that day I realized I was doing really well with the “pickin” and I told myself I was going to pick 100 quarts. A nice even number. A goal to reach. It motivated me when I was lagging.
     When I got home that day, I was bone tired. The teeth in my sunburnt face were whiter than white from (what I was later to learn) the malic/citric acid in all the berries I ate.  But I proudly handed my mother the five dollar bill I had earned that day. That’s how it was at our house. Rarely did we keep money earned. She took it to the bank and deposited it. She did the same when I brought money home from picking currants (paid by the pound) or grapes (paid by the crate) and later, waitressing (paid by the hour). When I was applying to nursing school, my mother pulled out our joint bank book and showed me my collective earnings which had amounted to something over the years.  There was money to pay for tuition, books and uniforms.

 Photo of me "pickin" ( but only a few quarts ) by Regina Hanchak. 

To this very day, when I hear Spanish being spoken, I’m back in the strawberry field picking 100 quarts to earn five dollars. Each time I buy strawberries at the grocery store I think of immigrant and migrant workers who have picked those berries in the hot sun, for a minimal wage.  I think of all this as I still try to pick my row clean these 60 years later at a U-Pick strawberry farm.  Our childhood experiences stay with us forever, frequently shaping our world view for the rest of our lives.

      It is often forgotten that Saturday has traditionally been dedicated to Blessed Mother since the very first days of the existence of the Catholic Church. In 417 AD Pope Innocent I proclaimed that Saturday be observed as a day of commemoration of the pain that Mary suffered on Saturday, the day after the crucifixion.

The tradition goes back to the first Holy Saturday when the apostles and followers of Christ turned to a grief stricken and discouraged Mary to give her comfort after the death of her Son and to console and sympathize in her moment of hurt, travail and anxiety. As soon as they were deprived of Christ himself, the apostles turned and clung to His mother with their entire hearts.
In the following centuries individuals who found themselves in doubtful situations, or pain, or distress took their troubles to Mary and put themselves under her protection. The prayer Under thy protection,  dating back to the 3rd century, is considered one of the earliest Christian prayers to the Blessed Virgin Mary.
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“ Under your protection we seek refuge, Holy Mother of God. Despise not our petitions In our need, But from all dangers rescue us always, Virgin most glorious and blessed…”

     It's a simple yet powerful plea for Mary's intercession and protection. The prayer, known in Polish as Pod twoją obrona  became the prayer on the lips of Polish soldiers throughout the centuries when entering into battle to keep their country safe from invaders. It was uttered in every household during the 123 years of partitions when Poland was overcome and erased from the maps of the earth.  
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The Polish song titled  "Witaj Królowo Nieba" (Hail, Queen of Heaven) calls upon Mary with the words: “Hail, Queen of Heaven and Mother of Mercy! Hail, our hope in sorrow and mourning…” It became the most popular homage to Mary on Saturday in Polish convents. The Cistercian nuns spread the custom of singing the song throughout Europe as the last prayer of the day.

​When farmers began their field work on the all-important Saturday, putting the plow to the earth for the first time in spring, or sowing seeds, or harvesting their crops, they asked for Mary’s intercession for success in their work. Passing by a roadside shrine dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, the faithful would stop to pray. It was on Saturday that the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary are said which center on Mary and the role she played when Jesus Christ took on human form and lived in the world.   Following the example of Friday dedicated to the Holy Cross and the Passion of the Lord Jesus, Saturday came to be set aside for the special honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Saturday became a weekly feast day honoring of the Mother of God.

Those devoted to the Blessed Mother eagerly accept the tradition and attempt to display their devotion every Saturday through such ways as saying the rosary, reciting a litany or lighting candles before her image.

Photos of roadside shrine in Poland by Ed Knab. 2007

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← The church today dates back to 17th century. Author photo.


In spite of fires, invasions, and wars that took its toll on the city and the church itself over the centuries, the church of St. Florian became a source of wonder, miracles and legends when a huge fire destroyed the entire northern district of Kraków  called Kleparz in 1528.

​While many churches were destroyed in the wake of the fire, the only edifice that remained standing was the church of St. Florian. From that time on St. Florian began to be worshiped in Poland as the patron saint protecting against fire and as the guardian of fire fighters and fire stations.

  

  ←St. Florian in upper facade of the church 
Author photo


The danger from fire was real both in cities and in the countryside of old Poland. Wooden houses with thatched roofs, stables full of hay, cooking over open fires both indoors and out, all contributed to frequent fires.

A statue of St. Florian was generally erected in the middle of a town or village square as a form of protection. Oftentimes a church steeple or tower of the town hall served as the lookout where firemen watched for the outbreak of fires.

 

     Images of St. Florian can be found near fire stations either as a statue or plaque on the firehouse wall.

←Figure of St. Florian in front of the voluntary fire brigade building in Chomotów, Poland. 2010

The name Florian as a boy’s name appeared in Poland very early, growing with the cult of St. Florian from the 12th century onwards. It comes from the Latin Florus, meaning “to flower.”  ​

Not far from the church, also named after him,  is Floriańska Gate, the entrance to Old Town and  Floriańska  Street, leading directly to Kraków’s magnificent  main square.
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     St. Florian was an early Roman Christian martyr from the 4th century who died protecting his faith. On banners, medals and roadside shrines he is usually depicted dressed in a soldier's uniform and helmet carrying a bucket to douse the fire. Sometimes there is a burning house at his feet.  His feast day is celebrated on May 4th. Happy name day to all named Florian!

←Roadside shrine in Krzyzanowice, Poland  2007
Edward Knab photo.

  May 4th also International Firefighters’ Day,  a day to recognize and thank firefighters for their bravery in protecting lives and property. The date, May 4th, was chosen specifically because it is the feast day of St. Florian, the patron saint of firefighters. Thank you and God Bless You!  




For more information about the celebration of  feast days, name days ​ and roadside shrines in Poland: Polish Customs, Traditions and Folklore and Spirit of Place: the Roadside Shrines of Poland both published by Hippocrene Books, Inc. Thanks for reading!