A Fairytale Setting

Yaraslav donned his tour guide hat and took us to see the Lavriv Saint Onuphrius's Monastery near Sambir. It was built in 1278, and supposedly contains the burial spot of Prince Lev Danylovych-founder of the city of Lviv. We stopped first at the city council in Sambir to pick up Cousin Dimitro's wife, Anna, who wished to see the site with us. It's quite lovely with some interesting, ancient frescoes.

When we got back, I noticed a commotion in the kitchen. Irene and Halya were fussing over Catherine who was sitting on her bed wearing a fancy babushka. I knew we were going into Hubici again, this time so I could visit the inside of Grandpop's house. I didn't know, however, that Catherine was taking her first trip out of the house in 3 years to join us!




This was both thrilling and scary for me. She's very frail and has great difficulty walking. I kept my fingers crossed the entire afternoon that nothing would happen. We set out in 2 cars on this very hot day, an undercurrent of excitement in the air.

The cemetery where my paternal ancestors rest is large, uneven and overgrown. Catherine sat at the graves of her parents and siblings, obviously overcome with emotion. Ukrainians often display a likeness of the deceased with either a photo or an engraving on the stone. I noticed that Catherine's oldest brother Vasil, named for my grandfather, looks surprisingly like my oldest brother, James, who died this April. I keep finding these unexpected connections on this journey.

Catherine took me to the grave of my grandfather's mother, Eva. She actually remembers the funeral when she was about 6 years old. There is a interesting mixed message here as my great-grandmother is buried right next to the church, a sign of great respect, underneath a sidewalk with no marker. Hmmm...

Next we stopped at my grandfather's home. When Vasil's widow could no longer stay by herself in Hubici, no one else in the family wanted the house so it was donated to the Greek Catholic Church. The grandson of Grandpop's best friend met us there with the key and a briefcase full of pictures and papers. I knew that my grandfather had corresponded with his for years-were some of those letters possibly in that briefcase? (Be still my beating heart!) Alas, no letters and no new photos of my paternal grandparent. Soviets frowned on keeping in touch with the West so all that mail was destroyed years ago. One picture of a group of Austrian soldiers did interest me, even though Grandpop wasn't in it.

Michael pointed out the attic. It was here his interest in his American family was piqued when, as a young boy, he would retreat to read the Ukrainian literature given to all peasants by Prosvita or (Enlightenment societies). He found a photo of a stranger his older brother later identified as their uncle who had emigrated to America in 1902. This captured Michael's imagination and he thought about my grandfather over the years and actually tried to find us back in the 1980's.

We then went to visit Catherine's 90 year old cousin. What a charming man! His wife gave me a large jar of Hubici honey- I can now taste the flowers and sun of my ancestors who have lived on this soil for more than a thousand years! She also gave a jar to Natalya who was extremely moved.

Prior to setting out on this little trip, she confronted me with a look of panic. "Sandra, Sandra!" she confided anxiously, "I just don't think I can stand one more dead ancestor!" I told her the story of how Alexander moaned toward the end of our stay, "If I had a gun, I'd shoot myself right now!" Fortunately, Natalya thought this was very funny so occasionally I break the tension with a surreptitious finger to the temple.

I see the gentle look in her eyes as she speaks with the old beekeeper. Natalya tells me that the woman has lost her own daughters and now there is no one left to care for her and her husband. "Natalya," I say earnestly, "You don't care now but as you listen to all these stories, remember that you will be the family historian someday-you now know things no one else in the family does." She is very quiet.

I've been very impressed with how Ukrainians treat their old people. Yaraslav shows great respect and tenderness to his mother. Michael, the youngest child in Marco's family, remembers when his sister took care of him and made him clothing by hand. Now he is so gentle and patient with his frail sister-they are the only siblings left in a large family. Assisted living facilities are unheard of here-I don't think it's just an economic factor. Ukrainians appreciate the wisdom and sacrifices of their elders and seem happy to give back.

Catherine keeps looking at me with such love-I'm so glad I made this trip while she is still alive. She is very much like me-we actually have the same hair style, once the babuska is removed! She also is the single mother of an only son. She liked building things and taking care of her goats and bees and gardens and is also interested in dreams. Yaraslav showed me a large ladder his mother constructed by hand. Michael told me she would have liked to be educated but there was no possibility in the Polish education system so she has lived her life close to the land in much the same way as our ancestors.


We came home to a truly wonderful feast of lazy man's verenyki and kneidils (sp) which are terrific dumplings filled with plums from Irene's garden. We ate both with fresh, homemade sour cream. Yaraslav treated me to his own salo (raw porkfat). This sounds awful but actually is quite good. It seems he can cook anything-I guess as a result of having a mother who didn't like the kitchen. He makes all kinds of fresh juices, including birch tree, fruit compotes and his borsch is very tasty. Since he has to take care of his mother and several local businesses, Yaraslav only visits his wife and family on the weekends- not an uncommon arrangement in Ukraine.

I have finally uncovered my relatives' diabolical plan - to fatten me up like a turkey and then have me climb Mt. Hoverla, the highest mountain in Ukraine - which is near Kolymia, tomorrow's destination. I have left instructions to bury me in Hubici!