Poland and Remembering Auschwitz

About one year ago, my then 16 year old son, approached me with a sheepish grin and one of those teenager looks that says, "I have something I want. If you say 'no' I will have no problem holding you hold hostage with my teenager attitude." So, of course, I returned his look with one of those special mom looks that says, "whatever, it is, I'm crossing my fingers if I say 'yes'." He quickly began selling me on his latest passion,Poland. "Okay, why Poland?" To which he replied with great fervor "Poland is my Mecca." Poland, home of his forefathers on his father's side and birth place of his musical hero, Fredrick Chopin. My son had already spent hours plugged into the Pimsler, Polish language course. Not only was he now equipped to experience all Poland had to offer, but to close the deal, in Polish if necessary. "Why, I thought, could he not have chosen Italy? Italy, home to my forefathers and land of one of my heroes, pasta?"

Reluctantly, I agreed to begin looking into this far-away, dark and scary sounding country where apparently a lot of beet soup and mushrooms are eaten. Beet soup aside; there was an overwhelming amount of interesting things to learn about Poland. Now I was being faced with a genuine curiosity to learn more. After all, the origins of the Polish nation go back to at least the 10th century. There was so much information to consume, that finding a more narrowed focus became a clear necessity.

Necessity led me straight to Poland's place in the Holocaust and WWII history. It is here that I remained when learning about Poland. Yes, "necessity" also led to airline tickets, tour guides and hotels throughout Poland. My son's request had blossomed into packed suitcases, jet lag, long lines at customs, money and electrical outlet conversions, and billboards in Polish. But nothing about Poland stood out more to me than the remains left by WWII.

It would be careless of me not to say that I found great understanding of Poland while being driven through its rich and vast farmlands and it's bustling, cities. I learned first hand of the Polish culture by eating pieroggi's and yes, beet soup. I was delighted by authentic, Polish folk performers. I chatted with locals over one, or two, very large, mugs of beer. I enjoyed many of these moments while sitting in taverns which were housed in 600 year old buildings. Poland is not dark, nor scary. It is beautiful and worthy of interest.

Nothing,

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