Musings from my driveway, my home and my heart
My mother’s Polish Catholic wedding on May 3, 1952 in Detroit included some startling elements and Old World customs. She wore a pearl-encrusted tiara and a custom gown fit for a queen, held hands with her old boyfriend Richard at the reception, and issued a warning to the Blessed Mother in church after the ceremony.... Continue Reading →
“Sto Lat,” the traditional Polish song that says “may you live 100 years,” was one of my dad’s favorites. We sang it every year on his birthday – and he nearly made it to that milestone, dying at 95 in 2019. February 17 would have been his 100th birthday. My brother-in-law Ralph texted me recently and... Continue Reading →
During the Great Depression, my grandfather would collect pieces of coal that fell off dump trucks rumbling through alleys in Detroit and use them to heat the house for a few days. This gleaning habit also included picking up scraps of wood he would find in the garbage. Some of these he used to fashion... Continue Reading →
My mother poses next to my dad’s two-tone 1958 Ford Thunderbird in the driveway of our home in northwest Detroit. She’s dressed in a shimmery gold outfit with a quadruple strand of white beads and a wide-brimmed hat trimmed in colorful cabbage roses. Her outfit is the perfect complement to the coupe’s aqua-and-white exterior. Clotheslines... Continue Reading →
To pass out candy on Halloween this year, I had to fill out a form required by my subdivision and turn it in by October 24. No more just flipping on the porch light and putting out a simple carved pumpkin or two. The organizational effort in the neighborhood included a notice that our homeowners’... Continue Reading →
When I was in the fourth grade at St. Mary of Redford elementary school, Sister Eudora gave us a classic assignment: what do you want to be when you grow up? “A police officer!” I wrote, explaining in great detail how much I admired my father, a Detroit Police detective. I got an A+ on... Continue Reading →
When my grandmother was 12 years old, Russian soldiers quartered on her family’s farm in Poland during the 1914 Battle of Galicia, a major conflict between Russia and Austria-Hungary during the early stages of World War I. When the family heard soldiers tramping on the road, they rushed to bury food to keep it out... Continue Reading →
When my dog Rosie died peacefully on March 26, it marked the end of 14 years in the witness protection program. Just like the human programs run by the U.S. Marshals Service and other government entities to create new identities and protect innocent victims from harm, Rosie’s canine version was designed to keep her safe... Continue Reading →
I’m staving off the pandemic blues by throwing myself into a home-improvement project that includes a bookcase shaped like an elephant and several gallons of Benjamin Moore’s First Light pink paint. The idea is to transform a guest bedroom in my house into a magical kid’s playroom, one that will delight my three grandchildren once the... Continue Reading →
When I was in the second grade, my friend Patrice asked if I could come home with her after school to play with Barbie dolls and meet her mother. Even before I saw the iron lung set up in the living room of Patrice’s house, I could hear the rhythmic “whoosh.” Her mother, a polio victim,... Continue Reading →
Anita's Way 