My cousin posted some of her special memories of Busia and Dziadzia's house on Facebook today, and even though my family didn't go up to see them very often, the times we DID go have brought such great memories flooding back to me!
My Polish grandparents, Busia (boo-sha) and Dziadzia (ja-ja) Brzezinski, lived 3 hours north of our home in a small town named Cedar in Northwest Michigan near Traverse City. They lived in a large, old farm house which seemed a MILE (although I think it was more like 1/4 of a mile) off the main road down a twisting, often times steep, sandy driveway that wound it's way through the biggest, tallest, rolling hills that looked like cliffs towering over the top of us. In the summer, fall and spring, cars would be able to drive down to the farm house. In the winter? The giant hills that towered over the driveway acted as a funnel where the snow drifts would inevitably fill in completely. The cars would have to be parked up at the top and we would have to trudge down the hills to the house. My family was never lucky enough to have a snowmobile waiting, but there was always a large, wooden toboggan we could put our luggage on to pull down the hill.
Once in the house, we would be welcomed in by the loud noises coming from inside. My mom has 13 brothers and sisters, so add in spouses and their children and the house was filled to the brim! Often times it was SO loud no one would hear us coming in! We would enter and immediately feel the warmth from Dziadzia's stoked furnace. To add wood to the fire, Dziadzia would have to bundle up, go out the door and around the side of the house to get into the basement where the wood stove was located. He didn't want to do that often so when he went out, he filled it up good! He would fill that baby up to the top with wood, and as the fire started blazing, the blower (which was a huge grate on the dining room floor large enough to have 4-6 of my cousins standing on it at the same time) would start blowing the most wonderful, dry, warm air. It felt welcoming and comforting for the first 20 minutes. After that, we all started taking off layers eventually getting down to just t-shirts and light pants because we were sweating so!
Busia would work in her small galley kitchen and make the largest, biggest, most delicious meals I had ever tasted! We ate so well when we went up north. Busia's brother, Uncle Leonard, owned the IGA store in Cedar where he had the best, home-made Polish meats in the world! Busia would buy Uncle Leonard hot dogs and smoked kielbasa and serve up platter after platter of that wonderful meat along side numerous platters filled with eggs, toast, fried mashed potato patties and so much more for breakfast. Lunches and dinners were just as memorable with fresh creek trout my uncles would catch that day to giant bowls filled with creamy coleslaw, tender, homegrown vegetables from Busia's garden, fresh home-made baked bread and our absolute favorite, Busia's chicken (I'll be sure to post the recipe soon!). We were NEVER lacking in the sweets department either as my uncle worked at Chef Pierre where they made the best pies, cakes and dessert cups. Busia's freezer was stocked with the wonderful treats and she wouldn't hesitate to pull them out for us!
The best time of the day was at night when I would sit on the stool in Busia's kitchen while she would knead loaf after loaf of home-made bread. The smells that floated from that kitchen made our mouths water in anticipation! The little cousins wouldn't have the patience to wait, but I sure did and it was such a wonderful time getting to talk to Busia privately without 15 cousins there vying for attention, too. When it was time, Busia would pull out the gorgeous brown loaves from the oven and, with a twinkle in her eyes, ask if I would like to try a bite. She'd bring out her big bread knife, cut a slice of the piping hot bread and pull out her fresh butter and home made preserves for me to slather on and enjoy. Oh, the sweet memories!
Off to bed we would go, and my family always ended up in the myszy room ("meesha" or the "mouse" room), a room with a little door that looked much like the little doors in the Willy Wonka movie for the oompa loompas. My dad would have to bend over and duck through the door to get in and out. There was a large bed for my parents and three small beds for us girls. Busia would have the room filled with, and I don't know how to spell this in Polish so I'll spell it phonetically, pa-shzjeen-as. They're goose-feather and down filled blankets Busia made. We were so warm and toasty all night long, although sometimes if it moved just right a feather would poke through and pick our legs or whatever body part it touched! Remember that Dziadzia didn't go out in the middle of the night to stoke the fire so we had to make sure we were warm until he went out in the morning to get the fire going! We dressed quickly and made our way down the squeeky stairs as fast as we could to get to the furnace grate and smell the wonderful breakfast Busia would be preparing for us to feast on.
During the day, once all the adults would get tired of us kids making noise upstairs and down, they'd bundle us up and send us out on a journey of discovery and pure joy! The winter was fun with sleds on the giant hills (although one of my cousins claimed she hit a pole so we had injuries, too!) and digging the most amazing tunnels in the giant drifts surrounding the house. The other seasons were just as fun walking and running up and down the rolling hills (sometimes rolling down!) and finding wonderful keepsakes as the hills were filled with Petoskey stones.
I'm sad we didn't get to spend much time up north, but the memories I DO have are priceless to me. Thank you, Cousin Katie, for helping me to remember. I'm thankful for the wonderful memories and will keep them alive in my heart so that I keep my grandparents alive in my heart, too. I miss you Busia and Dziadzia!
No comments:
Post a Comment