A Computer at Last

This has been an extraordinary trip for a genealogist although it has been frustrating not having computer access sooner. Happily, I'm sitting in the Internet cafe in Dobromil that Alexander and I used during our last visit. What a contrast to Zhuravno, where I finally fulfilled my wish to live like a Ukrainian-meaning with great deprivation but even greater resourcefulness!

Family researchers joke about discovering they come from royalty or some notable personality. Well, I knew about some distant village mayor providing the family surname and realized that's probably all I'll ever find in the royalty department but I was totally unprepared to stumble across a local hero sharing my bloodline! It seems that 18 year old Bohdan Cicik, related to me on my paternal grandmother's side (and looking very much like Uncle Pete!), shot and killed a KBG commander behind the city hall in Dobromil. Captured and wounded, he ripped open his chest injury and died, not wishing to put himself in the hands of the KBG for fear of giving up, under torture, important information.

To commemorate this bravery, the school in Lacko has been named for him. It's such a nice place- with a total of 35 students in grades 1 through 8. The custodian forced open the locked door of the history class and let me look at local artifacts gathered over the years. These, along with an outhouse, well and woodpile, took the school back in time.

On the way home, Yaraslav suddenly swerved into a neighbor's driveway to surprise me and Michael with a new "leaf" on the family tree! Our great-grandmother Eva's mother was Anna Duleba. Her direct descendant, Maria, still lives in Lacko. She and Yaraslav, both strongly opinionated people who don't give in easily, have had a contentious relationship. Thanks to my research, Yaraslav has had a wonderful time teasing her about being cousins (she is not amused!)

Decadent eating resumed today in nearby Hubici, birthplace of my grandfather and his brother Marco. First we went to the home of Marco's son, Stefan. We gathered at the table with his widow, Stefania, some of their children, grandchildren and even a great-grandchild. Oldest son Michael is a married Greek Catholic priest who has a passionate interest in local history. It is frustrating speaking through a translator-in this case, the lovely Natalya who is giving briefer and briefer translations as the week progresses.

I've grown very fond of Natalya who looks up occasionally from texting on her cellphone to perform her duties. She informs me, as she slips outside to take or make calls, that her love life is becoming increasingly complicated due to the ardent attentions of several young men-one is her best friend's boyfriend! She corners me and asks in desperation to tell her the truth, is she fatter than when I last saw her? I look at this raven-haired beauty with her porcelain skin, blue-gray eyes, her petit, rounded young body and assure her that she's perfect.

I can understand her concerns, however. I, through much hard work, recently lost 15 pounds. I was pleased that my relatives noticed and commented on my figure. Now two weeks into my trip, less and less people are noticing the new svelte me while my buttons are getting harder to fasten!

To continue my carbohydrate saga, our small yet oh so full group squeezed into the priest's machina to go to Yaraslava's house for a quick visit. She is the wonderful old peasant woman who found my family for me. I love her and was really looking forward to seeing her again. Last time I walked to her home from Stefania's by forging a small stream. This time, the priest, who obviously shares his cousin Yaraslav's DNA, drove in the stream at break-neck speed. We arrived in record time, with Yaraslava, her daughter and grand-daughter welcoming us with radiant grins.

Yaraslava's daughter Olya, an acclaimed baker and cook, treated us to lovely pastries and a wonderful hot raspberry infusion. Making a connection with these women who are unrelated to me has been especially heartwarming. Thanks to a picture taken by a Canadian I met on the Internet, I became acquainted with Yaraslava on my first trip to Ukraine. She is the one who went to the archives in Stary Sambir and also contacted Marco's daughter, Anna, who is now dead. Anna remembered that my grandfather married a girl from Lacko- which proved to be the missing piece in my genealogy puzzle. Everyone at the table agreed that the story was truly a miracle! I was so happy, also, to see that the gas line has finally come to Lacko and Hubici. Yaraslav's yard was full of chopped wood on our last visit but was very bare this time round. When I left, Olya handed me a bag filled with her homemade preserves!

We arrived home, again stuffed to the gills, for a little rest before Cousin Dimitro and his wife, Anna, come for one of Yaraslav's perfectly roasted chickens with baked apples from the tree outside the door. Perhaps the chicken is also from outside the door -I won't ask!

I'm having a wonderful time!