Musings from my driveway, my home and my heart
I always ended up with garlic breath after digging into my Easter basket as a kid. That’s because unlike American-style baskets, which were filled with chocolate bunnies and jelly beans, mine had a distinctly Polish flavor. My Polish grandmother, whose day job was running a little bar for Detroit factory workers on Michigan Avenue, always... Continue Reading →
My sister and I spent nearly every Christmas Day when we were growing up at the Greyhound bus terminal in Detroit – going nowhere. Our family fell a little short of the Norman Rockwell version of Christmas. Like many people, my mother struggled with the pressures of Christmas Day and dealing with three small children.... Continue Reading →
My siblings and I watched the Three Stooges and the Adventures of Superman on Saturdays under the doleful gaze of a 20-inch statue of the Infant of Prague in my grandmother’s living room at 5207 St. Lawrence Street in Detroit. The Infant, a copy of a revered 16th century statue in the Czech capital, always... Continue Reading →
My grandmother outlived five of her doctors and died just 15 months shy of her 100th birthday. I took her to many of her appointments and would watch with amusement when the docs would invariably ask her about her diet. They were seeking sage advice on how to live a long and healthy life, mentally... Continue Reading →
My grandmother, Rozalia Krzemienski, a Polish immigrant with a third-grade education, ran a tiny shot-and-a-beer bar for autoworkers in Detroit for 60 years. I spent my childhood summers with her, watching her deal with customers and make decisions as the small-business owner of the Rose Café, which was named after her. She taught me some... Continue Reading →
A schnauzer, a hatchet and a rosary were some of the tools my grandma relied on when she was forced into retirement at age 84 the day after my grandfather died. They ran a little shot-and-a-beer bar called the Rose Cafe on Michigan Avenue in Detroit that served Cadillac and Chrysler autoworkers. It was a... Continue Reading →
Anita's Way 