Communicating with God: One Person at a Time (Chapter 1, page 2 of 60)


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Chapter 1

My mother's father was a civil servant, a sort of court official, and to make sure he kept his job he had to opt to be Polish - even though his roots were pretty Germanic, as was his mother tongue. Her mother was even more German and of quite a noble and wealthy lineage (!) (the family boasted several carriages and a full stable of horses) but through her marriage became a Polish citizen without actually ever being able to master the intricacies of that language.

My father's family was more earthy. They were farmers, also in the west of Poland and had no problems about opting to be Poles - they were keen to do so and were (all of them) genuinely bi-lingual. My mother, on the other hand, had to polish up her Polish when she married. She became genuinely bi-lingual but betrayed her roots by never actually unconsciously, intuitively, counting under her breath in anything but German. It is a very good test as to which language one is actually most at home with: If you count your change in English then it is a sure sign that you actually think in that language and are most at ease in it.

They were married (with an age difference of 11 years - my mother being a mere 19) late in 1923 and lived in Bydgoszcz or its Germanic equivalent of Bromberg where my father was an instructor in the Air Force with a steady and well paid job, good prospects and an ingrained habit and ambition of providing for the future and, eventually, returning to the land as the heir to a flourishing farm.

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