Chmelova

I spent this morning in my grandmother’s village with my third cousin, Anna Mikulakova.  I had never met Anna before today, and I arrived on her doorstep unannounced.  My cousin, Jeff (okay, first cousin once removed – but let’s not get picky) had met Anna over fifteen years ago, during his military career when stationed in Europe.  Jeff had given me a name, address and old telephone number – but the telephone number no longer worked.  So this morning I arrived in Chmelova with my son and a translator and just went looking for her house. 

I need to back up a bit here.  Like so many Americans I am ethnically a mix of two very different cultures.  My mother is 100% Norwegian.  The Scandinavian side of my family has been in the United States for quite some time.  My great grandfather, Ole Peter Ruh, fought in the Civil war.  And my uncle, Lyle, and his wife still live on the farm that has been in our family since the time of the Civil War.  I can go to the cemetery down the road from the farm and find my grandparents, great grandparents, and perhaps even another generation of relatives graves all located there.  My roots feel very, very deep on that side of the family.

The other side of my family – my “Rusinko” side is Carpatho-Rusyn, and it was only my paternal grandparents who immigrated to the U.S. in 1894.  When I was little I thought my dad and his family were Russian because they went to St. Mary’s Russian Orthodox Church.  It took a long time to sort out that they were “Rusyn” not “Russian.”

Rusyns (sometimes called Carpatho-Rusyns because their villages are located in the Carpathian Mountains) are one of the many ethnic groups of Slovakia, along with Slovaks, Hungarians, Germans, and Romanies (Gypsies).  Rusyns are eastern Slavs, which means that their history, culture, and language are rooted in the medieval Kievan Rus' kingdom, whereas Slovaks are western Slavs.  Slovaks and Rusyns have lived together for nearly 1000 years but each maintain their own language and culture.

Part of what makes this all so confusing is the fact that Rusyns have never had their own country.  Given current political borders there are Rusyn villages Slovakia, Ukraine and Poland.  When my grandparents left their respective communities their villages were all under the umbrella of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

Which brings us back to this morning.  Anna, her daughter Martina, and a few grandchildren were working in the yard.  After getting over the surprise of having yet another American relative stumble in unannounced (above mentioned cousin Jeff had done something similar the first time) she welcomed us with open arms and invited us into her home.  Over coffee she brought out the family tree information she been collecting ever since she first meeting my cousin.  Here is part of what I discovered.  Alexander Birosh and Paraskieva Boris (our great, great grandparents) had two sons, one named Michal and one named Jan.  Michal was my great grandfather, and Jan was Anna’s great grandfather.  Michal and his wife, Anna Tarasar had seven children, one was my grandmother, Tereza.  Jan and his wife, Maria Hudan, had five children, one of whom was Andrej, Anna’s grandfather.  I could go on, but I think I have made my case for why we are third cousins.  

My third cousin, Anna, her husband, daughter, Josh and me.

The church where my grandmother was baptized.  This is the view from the back, but I like how you can see the mountains

Chmelova is an incredibly beautiful town.  I just liked this photo of Josh, by a small stream that runs through the town.

My cousin Anna's home.

Before this morning, I did not even know my grandmother’s parents’ names.  There was so much about my father’s family I did not really understand.  I knew only bits and pieces – that my grandparents’ marriage had been “arranged,” that my grandfather worked in the coal mines in Pennsylvania and that was very hard on my grandmother, that my great-great uncles were bootleggers during prohibition and helped my grandparents move from Pennsylvania to Minneapolis, that they were very poor and they had twelve children and two died very young.   My grandfather died long before I was born, and my grandmother died when I was only five years old.  Ten of their children lived long into adulthood but now they are all gone too. Like so many others, by the time I was old enough to become really curious about my ancestry there was no longer anyone to answer the questions.  

I cannot describe the pull I felt to come to this area.  I know my dad dreamed of visiting the villages his parents left or as he always referred to it “the old country.”   During the short window when he perhaps could have afforded to travel here, the area was locked down under communist rule.  By the time of the Velvet Revolution (Twenty-one years ago today) he was too old, and not confident or in strong enough health to make such a journey.

I don’t remember the exact line, but there is a part at the end of the book The Joy-Luck Club by Amy Tan, where the American born daughter travels to China to meet her half sisters and says something about bringing them the hopes and dreams of her mother.  During this whole time in Eastern Europe I have felt I was carrying the hopes and dreams of my father.  I am perhaps filled with more questions than answers, but it is clear to me the world has just gotten a little smaller as my family has grown a little bigger.