The Old Country

My Great-Great Grandparents were amongst the people who immigrated to Canada from Galicia and Bukovyna around 1892 to about 1914. They all fled their homelands to come to Canada for a better life and for their freedoms. It was a terrible place, very poor, no food, no jobs, and having a family was just not a good idea back then, coming to Canada was the best choice for having anything.  

When they came, they arrived with either a little bit of money or no money at all, unable to speak English and often illiterate. They were like aliens to everyone, they were discriminated all the time and nobody wanted these immigrants living near them or working alongside them, so they had to make their own Settlements to survive. They worked the land and built their own homes from the ground up. They had nothing, but came to freedom to make something for their families, and still to this day. They worked so hard and had so little, and after they have passed on, they left their families with so much. I am so thankful for my family, and for everything they left behind for us.

Especially, this one day when I was helping my Grandmother clean up her attic. There were so many boxes and old antiques up there, I didn’t know what to do with everything. My Grandmother being the generous lady she was, asked me to pack up boxes for donation to give to the Church and for anyone else in the family who wanted to take something home with them, so I had to make the kids a box each for home.  

I was up there for hours going through everything, finding all kinds of treasures and making boxes for everyone and the Church. I couldn’t believe the beautiful things that were put away and hidden up there, all collecting dust and spider webs, I knew that the things up there had to be my Grandparents parents' stuff and their parents' stuff. There were things that were not even in English, like old books, and dressers with huge mirrors, they looked like they were handmade, and made for a royal family or something. The mirrors had this ribbon-like carving all along the sides and angels carved on the top of the mirror. They were beautiful and had to be a family treasure. I couldn’t understand why all this amazing stuff was put up there, so I ran down the stairs and saw my Grandmother sitting in her recliner chair crocheting. I had to take a break anyway, I was starving and so thirsty. It was so dry up there, and I had to ask about that stuff up in the attic, I couldn’t believe that those things are hidden up there and not brought down to show off.  

I make myself some lunch and offer my Grandmother something, but she couldn’t eat right then, she had to take her meds and she can’t have anything to eat for a bit. But she did keep me company, and I had to ask her about all those beautiful things up in the attic. It was a shame that they are hidden away, as I ate my lunch and gathered up all the questions I wanted to ask her, I start to ask, I asked her if that stuff up there was her parents' stuff? She nodded and continued to crochet, then I asked if that stuff was her Grandparent's stuff because it looked very old. She nodded again, still crocheting. I asked her if that stuff was part of the donations to the Church, she turned her head and gave me the harshest, coldest look ever, as if I killed her dog or something. She looks at me and says, “are you kidding me?” “don’t even think of giving that stuff away to some strangers, I can’t believe you would even ask me that stupid question!” I didn’t know what to say after that comment. I guess I shouldn’t have asked her that, but I wasn’t sure what to do, I never got to see that stuff ever up in the attic, I grew up in that house too, I had no idea that those beautiful antiques even existed. I sure was told, I didn’t want to ask anything else, scared to open my mouth again, my Grandmother looks at me again, and not sure what to do with myself, maybe run I thought, she puts down her crocheting and tells me, "did you want to take something home with you?” I was still nervous in replying and only could shrug my shoulders with my head down. She kind of giggles and says to me, “if you wanted to take something, then it’s fine, but to give that stuff away like the old clothing, then don’t even think about it.” I know what she meant, I didn’t mean to offend her, but I really didn’t know what to do with the big dresser with that gorgeous mirror, or the wooden chests with the gold and silver clasps that lock, or the old rocking chairs, and the books. The really old lamps, the tables, the chairs with really beautiful carved outbacks and satin seats.  

My Grandmother, being the hard head that she was, was a very giving lady too, she would do so much for everyone and not do much for herself, that she would give away her own clothing to make sure that someone had something to wear if they didn’t. She would never turn away anybody, and she would make sure you were fed too. That’s another quality that has been passed on through the generations, it’s making the huge Ukrainian meals, the six-course dishes full of cream and butter. So amazing, and so filling, she would feed anyone that was hungry and give them warm clothing, my Grandmother (Baba) was just that kind of lady. But when it came to the antiques that have been brought from the Old Country, you dare to give those items away and not to the family? watch out. You better not just go away, but run, and run far, and run fast. Those things from the Old Country were sentimental and worth more than any amount of money.  

I completely understood and would never give away something like that, so I continued cleaning up the attic and packing once I was put in my place. I opened more boxes, and dust flew everywhere in the air and on me, getting it in my eyes and my mouth. The spider webs were a bit much, I can’t stand spider webs, they usually mean that the spider that made them was near. I was careful and on the guard for them. I found old clothes with the Ukrainian stitching on the sleeves and the front chest of the blouses and dress shirts. Found old Ukrainian dresses and sashes, old leather boots and fur hats, old Ukrainian books that were in the Ukrainian language, had no idea what they said since I only speak English and understand a few words here and there of Ukrainian, there was so much I knew that I couldn’t donate, but only put in other boxes for family. I was amazed at all the things I found up in that attic that day, I was very much honored to be the one that got the opportunity to see those things that day. It was hard work to go through all that stuff, and I really enjoyed every minute, it took me hours to go through not all, but most of those things.  

While going through this one box, I found a heavy, dark green, woolen men’s coat. It had to be heavy, it was hard to pull out of the box, and it was so long in length too. I dusted it off and before putting it for donation I had gone through the deep pockets, and one pocket I could feel something in it, I stuck my hand inside and in this deep pocket I pull out this coin. This coin was nothing I have ever seen before, and I was really surprised to find it. Something like that shouldn’t be in the pocket of an old woolen coat. I thought I better not lose it, as I tucked it inside the front pocket of my jeans. I had to give that to my Baba when I go back downstairs, it might be something important since I couldn’t tell what kind of coin it was. After going through more stuff, I just couldn’t go through anymore, and I needed to go back downstairs. It was getting late and the drive back to the city was going to be a long one. I was tired and my kids probably wanted to sleep in their own beds, so I finished up as much as I could and went down to give my Baba this treasure, I found and to carry out the boxes I packed for the Church.  

I notice my Baba in her chair, sitting with my kids, and talking, I go into the living room and tell her I found something up in the attic, and she looks at me and laughs and says, “I’m sure you found a lot of things up in the attic,” but what did you find?” she asks. I walk over to her and hand over the coin I had found in that old, dark green, woolen coat. She looks at me and then back to the coin and she starts to cry. My kids looking at me, as if I just did something bad and then hugs their Baba. Baba looks at me and smiles, then starts to tell me the story behind her tears. “One day her Great Grandfather was given that coin for helping an old man with his sick cow. The cow was their milk cow and they were poor and had a big family and they needed that cow for milk. Her Great Grandfather knew a bit about cows and helped this old man and within a couple days the cow was better, so that old man gave her Great Grandfather that coin for helping him.” Now back in those days, money was very slim if none at all.” Giving her Great Grandfather that coin was worth more than the actual worth of that coin to her Great Grandfather, so not having any money himself, he kept it. No matter what happened, her Great Grandfather never spent it, and he held onto it, until one day. He was working outside and he lost it, well, thought he lost it and was very upset about it. He would talk about that coin for years and years until the day he died.” My Baba, knowing of the history of that coin, and remembering the cow story, started to cry because she was overwhelmed with happiness. The lost coin wasn’t lost after all, and just misplaced. She was so happy, even though with her crying sure didn’t seem that way at that moment, but she was. She looked over at me and tossed it back to me. I was so shocked, I toss it back, and tell her to keep it. It’s something more to her than it was to me, and she then tells me in Ukrainian to smarten up and put it back in my pocket and take it home. She smiled at me and hugged my kids and kissed them. They looked at me and smiled, they knew their Baba was okay now. I tell my kids to get ready for home and they kiss their Baba and hug her once more before heading out the door. I pack up their things and grab some goodies that my Baba had baked with my kids, I hug her and tell her, "I'll keep that coin in a safe place and give it to one the kids when they are old enough, and maybe then too, I might not and keep it for myself.” She smiles and packs up the goodies for me. I tell her we’ll be back to see her and we’ll call when we get home. She smiles and walks me to the door. I hug her and thank her for everything. That will be the last time we ever got to see her, she ended up in the hospital a couple days later, she had cancer and it just took over her body and she was gone. I’ll never give that coin to anyone, not even my kids. I have it in a glass case in my living room and it sits there along with some other things that I took from home to keep the memory going. I’ll always remember that day, and what we talked about. She’ll always be in my heart and in my memories. I love you Baba.