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<\/figure>\n\n\n\nMarcin, Marychna, Marek z Niani\u0105 J\u00f3zi\u0105 Kie\u0142bas\u00f3wn\u0105, 1952<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n A wi\u0119c 30 os\u00f3b. A Oni, nasi ukochani Zmarli zapewne ciesz\u0105 si\u0119 patrz\u0105c na t\u0119 gromadk\u0119 z Niebios.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tak wiec z pami\u0119ci\u0105 o Nich i serdeczno\u015bci\u0105 wobec tych, kt\u00f3rzy otaczaj\u0105 ich wspomnieniami (lub dopiero b\u0119d\u0105 otacza\u0107), napisa\u0142am t\u0119 kr\u00f3tk\u0105 historyjk\u0119 o \u015awi\u0119tach Bo\u017cego Narodzenia, kt\u00f3re dzia\u0142y si\u0119 tam daleko w Dynowie, kiedy\u015b bardzo dawno, bo pocz\u0105wszy od 1947 roku, w\u015br\u00f3d ludzi ju\u017c nie\u017cyj\u0105cych, w atmosferze przenikni\u0119tej niedawn\u0105 jeszcze wojn\u0105, s\u0142owem: \u015bwiecie trudnym do wyobra\u017cenia sobie dla pokolenia naszych wnuk\u00f3w. Ale by\u0142 to nasz \u015bwiat, nasza rodzina, stamt\u0105d pochodzimy. Trzeba o tym pami\u0119ta\u0107.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u015awi\u0119ta to – zaczarowany okres: najpierw ca\u0142ym sercem wierzyli\u015bmy w \u015awi\u0119tego Miko\u0142aja, kt\u00f3ry obdarowywa\u0142 nas w nocy z 5 na 6 grudnia. I to zawsze pi\u0119knym, wymarzonym prezentem. Nigdy nas nie zawi\u00f3d\u0142, nigdy o niczym nie zapomnia\u0142. Najcz\u0119\u015bciej zostawia\u0142 dary ko\u0142o \u0142\u00f3\u017cek, ale raz nawet przyszed\u0142: w infule, z pastora\u0142em, we wspania\u0142ych, pow\u0142\u00f3czystych szatach.. Pyta\u0142 \u0142udz\u0105co podobnym do g\u0142osu naszej Kochanej Niani, Zosi, czy umiemy Aniele Bo\u017cy. Wszyscy stracili\u015bmy g\u0142owy: bracia, solidarnie, zacz\u0119li mi podpowiada\u0107. Wybrn\u0119li\u015bmy! Ale z pytaniami o grzeczno\u015b\u0107 dawali\u015bmy sobie rad\u0119.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A potem zbli\u017ca\u0142 si\u0119 dzie\u0144 wilji, 24 grudnia. I znowu kontakt z nienamacalnym: Anio\u0142ki przynosi\u0142y nam ustrojone drzewko, pod nim prezenty by\u0142y skromniejsze, ale by\u0142y. Dla nas to znaczy\u0142o, \u017ce byli\u015bmy grzeczni, a i Anio\u0142ki nie wszystko widzia\u0142y\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ale po kolei.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Pierwszym \u015bwi\u0105tecznym obrazem w mojej pami\u0119ci jest \u201ewizyta\u201d \u015awi\u0119tego Miko\u0142aja w sali przedwojennego Soko\u0142a. Mam nieca\u0142e 2 lata, rok 1947. Mamusia, przed urodzeniem Marka, nie pcha\u0142a si\u0119 w t\u0142um, ale Tatu\u015b trzyma mnie na r\u0119kach i z wypiekami wypatruje czy \u015bwi\u0119ty ofiarodawca zbli\u017cy si\u0119 do nas. Jest niesamowicie gor\u0105co, krzyki, wszyscy wyci\u0105gaj\u0105 r\u0119ce. W ko\u0144cu: jest! prezent dla mnie. Podaje mi go wielka \u0142apa ur\u0119kawiczniona w biskupie at\u0142asy, jako \u017ce \u015bwi\u0119ty to biskup, a nie krasnoludek. Co tam jest? Pude\u0142ko obwi\u0105zane czerwon\u0105 kokard\u0105, a w \u015brodku pyszne pierniczki. A jakie pyszne.!! Tatu\u015b podgrzewa atmosfer\u0119: ale by\u0142a\u015b grzeczna, nie czekali\u015bmy za d\u0142ugo, ale smakowity prezent!! (naturalnie: Babcia Wandzia robi\u0142a takie same pierniczki!!)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rok p\u00f3\u017aniej pami\u0119tam ju\u017c drzewko. Ogromne, do sufitu, pomi\u0119dzy pokojem jadalnym a sypialni\u0105, w mieszkaniu Rodzic\u00f3w na pi\u0119trze, czyli na \u201eg\u00f3rze\u201d (Rodzice zajmowali wtedy ogromne mieszkanie na pi\u0119trze kamienicy Baranieckich przy rynku dynowskim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Na dole mieszkali dziadziowie Franiowie i by\u0142a apteka, (jeszcze wtedy nie upa\u0144stwowiona, nasza).<\/p>\n\n\n\n A \u015bwiate\u0142 na niej! Drzewko by\u0142o ozdobione malutkimi lichtarzykami z zapalonymi \u015bwiecami. Widok prze\u015bliczny. Marek, 8 miesi\u0119cy, stoi w bia\u0142ym \u0142\u00f3\u017ceczku z barierk\u0105, ja bawi\u0119 si\u0119 obok. Pilnuj\u0105 nas obie kochane Babcie: J\u00f3zia i Wandzia. Zawsze na \u201epani\u201d, doskonale wychowane. Rodzic\u00f3w nie ma: Tatu\u015b w wojsku, Mamusia w aptece. Cicho, przyjemnie\u2026 Nagle trzask, straszliwy b\u0142ysk, Marek klaszcze w r\u0105czki, ja krzycz\u0119. Babcie poderwa\u0142y si\u0119, Wandzia wywr\u00f3ci\u0142a drzewko-pochodni\u0119, J\u00f3zia chlusn\u0119\u0142a wiadrem z kuchni\u2026 Pow\u00f3d\u017a, zgliszcza. Oboje z Markiem nic z tego nie rozumieli\u015bmy, ale Mamusia potem rozpacza\u0142a jak dziecko: ca\u0142y adwent pracowa\u0142a nad ozd\u00f3bkami, laleczkami, \u0142a\u0144cuchami.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chcia\u0142a aby dzieci mia\u0142y \u0142adnie. Podobno takich udanych ju\u017c nigdy potem nie zrobi\u0142a. A biedne Babcie by\u0142y tak zawstydzone swoj\u0105 nieuwag\u0105, \u017ce nie m\u00f3wi\u0142o si\u0119 potem o tym po\u017carze zbyt d\u0142ugo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Kolejny obraz: mamy ju\u017c drugiego braciszka, jest nas troje, Marcin doskonale chodzi, wi\u0119c jest rok 1950. Swoj\u0105 drog\u0105 trzeba przyzna\u0107, \u017ce Rodzice \u015bwietnie si\u0119 nasza rado\u015bci\u0105 bawili i podgrzewali atmosfer\u0119 sacrum i tajemniczo\u015bci. I tak wi\u0119c ju\u017c 24 grudnia wcze\u015bnie rano Mamusia zrywa\u0142a si\u0119 z \u0142\u00f3\u017cka na d\u017awi\u0119k perlistego dzwoneczka (ciekawe kto dzwoni\u0142, Tatu\u015b spa\u0142 rozkosznie, wo\u0142aj\u0105c: \u201es\u0142yszycie szum skrzyde\u0142? Anio\u0142ki ju\u017c odlatuj\u0105\u201d. Naturalnie, \u017ce s\u0142yszeli\u015bmy. Struchlali, z bij\u0105cymi serduszkami, w d\u0142ugich koszulach nocnych p\u0119dzili\u015bmy do du\u017cego pokoju, gdzie teraz ju\u017c pod oknem sta\u0142a cudowna, olbrzymia choinka-jode\u0142ka. A jak bajecznie przystrojona, a jak o\u015bwietlona (znowu te \u015bwieczuszki!!), <\/p>\n\n\n\n jak pachn\u0105ca. No i prezenty!! Pami\u0119tam t\u0119 rado\u015b\u0107. Nie wiedzieli\u015bmy od czego zaczyna\u0107, co rozpakowywa\u0107, czym si\u0119 cieszy\u0107. A rado\u015b\u0107 Kochanych Rodzic\u00f3w! Tego nie da si\u0119 opisa\u0107. Widz\u0119 Marka chodz\u0105cego wok\u00f3\u0142 drzewka z malutk\u0105, zielon\u0105 laseczk\u0105, ja z lalk\u0105 ubran\u0105 w sukieneczki na zmian\u0119 (to znowu \u201esprawka Babci Wandzi\u201d), Marcin le\u017cy w\u015br\u00f3d barank\u00f3w wyci\u0119tych przez Mamusi\u0119, a Tatu\u015b m\u00f3wi: \u201eto jest jeszcze jeden baranek\u201d. Jest lodowato, piec jeszcze niezapalony, na dworze, naturalnie \u015bnieg i mr\u00f3z. Ale nikt na to nie zwraca uwagi. Tylko Marcin ma bia\u0142e rajtuzy, kt\u00f3re ju\u017c za moment by\u0142y koloru piasku\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Drzewko jest obwieszone cukierkami w specjalnych, b\u0142yszcz\u0105cych papierkach, jab\u0142uszkami, ba nawet i 3-ma pomara\u0144czami?? (Mo\u017ce si\u0119 myl\u0119, bo i sk\u0105d?). Cukierki \u0142asowali\u015bmy od razu, pozostawiaj\u0105c \u201epogrubione\u201d papierki (ku rozpaczy Rodzic\u00f3w z racji ich fiaska wychowawczego).<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tatu\u015b, zm\u0119czony po nocnym ubieraniu drzewka, cichaczem szed\u0142 si\u0119 po\u0142o\u017cy\u0107, \u201ena sekund\u0119.\u201d Ale gdzie tam. Biegali\u015bmy co chwil\u0119: \u201eniech Tatu\u015b popatrzy: pan Jezusek murzy\u0144ski\u201d, <\/p>\n\n\n\n a to\u201d ma\u0142pka na hu\u015btawce\u201d, i tak przez t\u0119 nieszcz\u0119sn\u0105 sekund\u0119. Tatu\u015b udawa\u0142 coraz bardziej t\u0142umiony zachwyt naszymi odkryciami, a my p\u0119dzili\u015bmy na d\u00f3\u0142, do Babci Wandzi i Dziadzia Frania. Czy anio\u0142ki by\u0142y i u nich? Tak, odpowiadali, ale prezent\u00f3w ju\u017c nie zostawi\u0142y. Wsp\u00f3\u0142czuli\u015bmy biedakom, ale tylko kr\u00f3ciutko, bo na ich choince, stoj\u0105cej na stoliczku w salonie, by\u0142a te\u017c moc cud\u00f3w do ogl\u0105dania i nawet ukradkowej zabawy. Tatu\u015b zrz\u0119dzi\u0142: \u201dpo co tyle waty? (to by\u0142 niby \u015bnieg) Dla nowego po\u017caru? \u201dNo i jednego dnia by\u0142, ale malutki. Tradycja.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Na g\u00f3r\u0119 przysz\u0142a babcia Kinia (siostra naszej rodzonej, J\u00f3zi, ale te\u017c nazywali\u015bmy j\u0105 babci\u0105 i kochali\u015bmy tak samo). Z torby wyci\u0105ga\u0142a cacka, kt\u00f3re \u201eanio\u0142ki pogubi\u0142y po drodze\u201d. Pami\u0119tam woreczek z orzechami laskowymi owini\u0119tymi w kolorowe papierki. Wisia\u0142 jeszcze do niedawna na moim drzewku\u2026.a\u017c rozpad\u0142 si\u0119 ze staro\u015bci, a moja Kasia zrobi\u0142a taki sam, na pami\u0105tk\u0119.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Dzie\u0144 nie mia\u0142 ko\u0144ca przyjemno\u015bciom. U Zochny, naszej przyjaci\u00f3\u0142eczki za \u015bcian\u0105, sta\u0142a choinka obwieszona ca\u0142ymi czekoladami i bombkami wielko\u015bci dzisiejszych owoc\u00f3w cytrusowych. Jej mama by\u0142a bardzo dumna. Wprawdzie ca\u0142a rodzina gnie\u017adzi\u0142a si\u0119 w kuchni, a do du\u017cego pokoju mo\u017cna by\u0142o wej\u015b\u0107 tylko na moment (zabrudzicie!!), tego dnia pozwala\u0142a nam posiedzie\u0107 troch\u0119. Nast\u0119powa\u0142a prezentacja dar\u00f3w. Na szcz\u0119\u015bcie nie pami\u0119tam rywalizacji i zazdro\u015bci. Tak ma\u0142o mo\u017cna by\u0142o wtedy dosta\u0107. Cieszyli\u015bmy si\u0119 s\u0142odyczami, kolorowankami, wyklejankami.<\/p>\n\n\n\n O 17 tej zasiadali\u015bmy do wigilii, na dole. Tam u nas m\u00f3wi\u0142o si\u0119 wilji (regionalizm galicyjski). Lampa by\u0142a przystrojona w \u0142a\u0144cuch babcinej roboty najlepszy serwis w u\u017cyciu, najlepsze sztu\u0107ce, naturalnie \u2013 kozio\u0142ki. Czuli\u015bmy wag\u0119 chwili i od op\u0142atka byli\u015bmy grzeczni. Mowy nie by\u0142o o grymasach: barszcz z uszkami to m\u00f3j przysmak do dzi\u015b, pierogi z kapust\u0105 r\u00f3wnie\u017c. Zmor\u0105 Mamusi by\u0142y ryby, rzeczne, o\u015bciste: \u201euwa\u017cajcie\u201d. Ale nieszcz\u0119\u015b\u0107 nie by\u0142o. O braku tych ryb m\u00f3wi\u0142o si\u0119 stale, w sklepach ich nie by\u0142o nigdy!! Ale ka\u017cdy jako\u015b sobie radzi\u0142 opowiadaj\u0105c jakie to wielkie by\u0142y \u201eprzed wojn\u0105\u201d. Ale tych opowie\u015bci nie lubili\u015bmy, bo co nas obchodzi\u0142y te niesmaczne ryb! (rytualne pytanie Tatusia: \u201ddlaczego ten karp tak \u015bmierdzi?)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zosia i J\u00f3zia, nasze Kochane najmilsze Nianie te\u017c mia\u0142y swoj\u0105 wilj\u0119, a my czasami podrzucali\u015bmy im troch\u0119 naszych czekoladek, a raz nawet pomara\u0144cze i s\u0142uchali\u015bmy jak to by\u0142o w Bartk\u00f3wce, wsi za Sanem sk\u0105d obie pochodzi\u0142y.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Na pasterce by\u0142am jako 7 letnie dziecko, a wiec w 1953 r. Ale o tym za moment, bo wypada doda\u0107 \u201ekaw\u0119 mro\u017con\u0105\u201d we dworze. Ta kawa to by\u0142o apogeum wilii dworskiej urz\u0105dzanej wedle starych, ziemia\u0144skich zwyczaj\u00f3w: proboszcz i wikarzy zaproszeni, snopy 4 zb\u00f3\u017c w k\u0105tach, olbrzymia strucla na \u015brodku sto\u0142u, pod obrusem siana tyle ile w \u017c\u0142obku<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mamusia jako wnuczka dziedzica by\u0142a proszona do dworu na kaw\u0119 mro\u017con\u0105, z ca\u0142\u0105 now\u0105 rodzin\u0105. Szli\u015bmy do starego domu otoczonego ogromnymi drzewami, przez miasteczko, rzeczk\u0119, z zapa\u0142em, zawsze w g\u0142\u0119bokim \u015bniegu. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Chyba Dziadzio Franio zostawa\u0142 w domu, w aptece. Ten \u015bnieg to by\u0142o dla niego, grubaska, za du\u017co. Ale Babcia Wandzia, cho\u0107 stale w g\u0142\u0119bokiej \u017ca\u0142obie po 19 letnim synu, Staszku, zamordowanym w Auschwitz w 1941 r., w per\u0142ach na czarnej sukni, milcz\u0105ca, smutnie u\u015bmiechni\u0119ta, by\u0142a z nami zawsze, do 1970 r. Siedzia\u0142a na pierwszym miejscu, a wszyscy zachwycali si\u0119 jej urod\u0105 i taktem. Nigdy nam nie zwraca\u0142a uwagi, aczkolwiek my, wiercipi\u0119ty z Marcinem musieli\u015bmy odbiega\u0107 od jej kanon\u00f3w dobrego wychowania. Co innego Mareczek, jej ulubieniec!<\/p>\n\n\n\n Przy du\u017cym stole, w najwi\u0119kszym dworskim pokoju, jeszcze w 1952 r. siedzia\u0142 pradziadzio Stefan Trzecieski, (zmar\u0142 w 1953), brodaty, zamy\u015blony, niezauwa\u017caj\u0105cy tego drobiazgu \u201eKazi\u00f3w\u201d, obie Babcie Kinia i J\u00f3zia, dziadzio Kalunio Paygert m\u0105\u017c J\u00f3zi, ciocie: Hania Trzecieska i Ja\u0144cia Jaszczurowska, siostra Stefana, no i proboszcz Micha\u0142 Bar z wikarymi: Janem \u015amietan\u0105 i Czes\u0142awem Korczykowskim. (Potem po \u015bmierci Stefana w 1953 r. do\u0142\u0105czyli do tego grona pp. Or\u0142osiowie, wynajmuj\u0105cy dwa pokoje we dworze.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Smako\u0142yki przygotowywa\u0142a najukocha\u0144sza Niania Helcia Kami\u0144ska. Najmilszy cz\u0142onek naszej rodziny, najwierniejszy Przyjaciel. Jej kawa z bit\u0105, mro\u017con\u0105 \u015bmietank\u0105 to by\u0142 przysmak nawet dla nas maluch\u00f3w, kt\u00f3re co tam wiedzia\u0142y o kawie. Ale kaw\u0119 przysy\u0142a\u0142 regularnie z Belgii brat Kini i J\u00f3zi, Jakub Trzecieski. Ale nie przyjecha\u0142 nigdy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Po kawie, Kalunio wymyka\u0142 si\u0119 do swego pokoiku, aby s\u0142ucha\u0107 \u201eLondynu\u201d- odrobiny informacji rzetelnej o \u015bwiecie. S\u0142ucha\u0142 w powodzi zag\u0142uszaj\u0105cych trzask\u00f3w radia, ale s\u0142ucha\u0142 zawsze z nadziej\u0105 (dla czytaj\u0105cych m\u0142odych ludzi dodam, \u017ce byli\u015bmy otuleni szczeln\u0105 kurtyn\u0105 informacyjn\u0105. Nic nie wiedzieli\u015bmy o tym co s\u0142ycha\u0107 a i nadziei \u017cadnej na to nie by\u0142o), a my zaczynali\u015bmy gromkie kol\u0119dowanie. Trzeciescy obdarzeni \u015bwietnym uchem \u015bpiewali znakomicie i z zapa\u0142em a i my nauczyli\u015bmy si\u0119 wtedy wszystkich kol\u0119d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Patrzy\u0142am przez okna: ciemno wok\u00f3\u0142, o\u015bnie\u017cony ogr\u00f3d, trzeszcz\u0105ce od mrozu ga\u0142\u0119zie starych drzew, cisza\u2026.\u017badnych o\u015bwietle\u0144 dom\u00f3w nie by\u0142o, czasami tylko z okien rozb\u0142ys\u0142a o\u015bwietlona paroma \u015bwieczkami choinka. To dodawa\u0142o uroku chwili, formowa\u0142o atmosfer\u0119, na kt\u00f3r\u0105 by\u0142am zawsze wra\u017cliwa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ten zesp\u00f3\u0142 nies\u0142ychanie bliskich mi os\u00f3b to byli wszyscy wysiedleni z miejsc swego zamieszkania, (Podole, Pokucie, Lw\u00f3w), wydziedziczeni ze wszystkiego, \u017cyj\u0105cy nader skromnie, \u017ce nie powiem w biedzie na co dzie\u0144. Ale nikt nie traci\u0142 poczucia godno\u015bci, wierno\u015bci swoim zasadom i warto\u015bciom. Zostali nam wzorem na cale \u017cycie. Chcia\u0142abym aby zostali tez takimi dla naszych Najm\u0142odszych.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Po dziesi\u0105tej Rodzice dawali znak do odwrotu.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Naprasza\u0142am si\u0119 \u017ce chc\u0119 na pasterk\u0119. Mamusia tego nie lubi\u0142a. \u201dB\u0119dziesz niewyspana i niezno\u015bna\u201d. Ale mia\u0142am sprzymierze\u0144ca w Babci Kini. No i w 1953 r. posz\u0142am na ni\u0105 po raz pierwszy w towarzystwie Tatusia. Nie pami\u0119tam jak znie\u015bli to moi biedni bracia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ale pasterki, tej pierwszej, nigdy nie zapomn\u0119. Ubity ko\u015bci\u00f3\u0142, zw\u0142aszcza mieszka\u0144cami wsi Bartk\u00f3wka za Sanem (nie by\u0142o mostu. Trzeba by\u0142o jecha\u0107 kryp\u0105 lub i\u015b\u0107 lodem), \u015bciany ko\u015bcio\u0142a oszronione, ale para z ust \u015bpiewaj\u0105cych kol\u0119dy, szybko je stapia\u0142a. Chyba nie by\u0142o jeszcze elektryczno\u015bci, a wi\u0119c \u015bwiece skwiercza\u0142y\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wspania\u0142y organista, Augustyn Potoczny (nota bene kuzyn mego przysz\u0142ego te\u015bcia), swoim niezr\u00f3wnanym basem, idealnie s\u0142yszalnym, cho\u0107 bez mikrofonu, inicjowa\u0142: \u201eW\u015br\u00f3d nocnej ciszy\u201d. Gromki \u015bpiew wiernych udowadnia\u0142, \u017ce ludziom um\u0119czonym wojn\u0105, tak bardzo jest potrzebne takie pocieszenie, \u017ce w Nowonarodzonym upatruj\u0105 swoj\u0105 nadziej\u0119\u2026.Msza \u015bw. by\u0142a naturalnie po \u0142acinie, ty\u0142em do wiernych, \u015bpiewali\u015bmy wiec non stop poza Ewangeli\u0105 i Podniesieniem. Ale takie to by\u0142y czasy, zw\u0142aszcza przed Soborem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wraca\u0142am do domu pe\u0142na wra\u017ce\u0144 i wzruszenia, z postanowieniem uczestnictwa w Pasterce zawsze. I tak si\u0119 dzieje, cho\u0107 ju\u017c nie w Dynowie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Lata 50-te, te kt\u00f3re opisa\u0142am powoli odchodzi\u0142y do historii. Przy wilji siedzia\u0142o nas coraz mniej: zmar\u0142 Pradziadzio Stefan Trzecieski, jego siostra, Ciocia Ja\u0144cia Jaszczurowska, dziadzio Kalunio Paygert, a w aptece Dziadzio Franio Baraniecki.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My, czyli moi bracia i ja, w latach 60 tych zawsze wracali\u015bmy na \u015bwi\u0119ta do domu z Warszawy, gdzie chodzili\u015bmy do szk\u00f3\u0142 \u015brednich, potem studiowali\u015bmy. A gdy za\u0142o\u017cyli\u015bmy w\u0142asne rodziny bywa\u0142o to ju\u017c rzadziej. W 1971 r. zmar\u0142a Babcia Wandzia Baraniecka, wcze\u015bniej stara Zosia Siry, J\u00f3zia wysz\u0142a za m\u0105\u017c za pana \u017burawskiego. Dom opustosza\u0142, Rodzice chodzili na wieczerz\u0119 do dworu. Tam zwyczaje i tradycje by\u0142y zachowywane bez wzgl\u0119du na staro\u015b\u0107 czy brak sil. Nie pami\u0119tam czy kto\u015b z nas w nich uczestniczy\u0142? Zdj\u0119\u0107 si\u0119 nie robi\u0142o, a pami\u0119\u0107 zawodzi. Ogromna szkoda. Ale Mamusia wszystko opisywa\u0142a nam w s\u0105\u017cnistych listach. Wczuwa\u0142am si\u0119 przy ich lekturze w te niepowtarzaln\u0105 atmosfer\u0119 \u201enaszego dworu\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n W latach 80 tych wszystko si\u0119 sko\u0144czy\u0142o: Babcie J\u00f3zia i Kinia, potem Ciocia Hania i Helcia odesz\u0142y do Pana, Rodzice przenie\u015bli si\u0119 do Warszawy, Markowie i Marcinowie wyjechali do Kanady. Tam te\u017c wysz\u0142a za m\u0105\u017c nasza Kasia. Wigilie, tak, teraz ju\u017c wigilie, odbywa\u0142y si\u0119 u nas w Michalinie. M\u00f3j Andrzej przywozi\u0142 z Grottgera Rodzic\u00f3w, Kochanych, zawsze ob\u0142adowanych prezentami, a Mamusia z uszkami do barszczu, moja Te\u015bciowa, Maria Witkowska, przygotowywa\u0142a menu \u201egalicyjskie\u201d, jako \u017ce sama pochodzi\u0142a z Przemy\u015bla a potem Lwowa. Ogromnie nam, a zw\u0142aszcza Tatusiowi to smakowa\u0142o, a Ona potrafi\u0142a wyczarowa\u0107 smako\u0142yki z niczego. My starali\u015bmy si\u0119 wskrzesi\u0107 dawn\u0105 atmosfer\u0119, ale \u201enie mo\u017cna dwa razy wej\u015b\u0107 do tej samej rzeki\u201d, to ju\u017c nie by\u0142o to co tam, w Dynowie\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n A potem w latach 90 tych pojawi\u0142a si\u0119 w\u015br\u00f3d nas Agnieszka, a odesz\u0142a moja Te\u015bciowa, potem Tatu\u015b. Z Kanady zacz\u0119\u0142y dochodzi\u0107 wie\u015bci i zdj\u0119cia o kolejnych \u015blubach dzieci moich Braci. U nas urodzi\u0142y si\u0119 wnuki, Franio i Jasio jako pierwsi, najbardziej ch\u0142onni na moje opowiadania o dawnych czasach\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n Historia zatacza ko\u0142o\u2026..<\/p>\n\n\n\n Do tekstu do\u0142\u0105czam troch\u0119 zdj\u0119\u0107 z naszych ozd\u00f3b choinkowych, bardzo, bardzo starych, ale kt\u00f3re chowam jak cenn\u0105 pami\u0105tk\u0119 lub ilustracj\u0119: lichtarzyk z prawdziw\u0105 \u015bwieczk\u0105.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Licz\u0119 na pomoc w przek\u0142adzie tekstu na angielski. Mo\u017ce kogo\u015b z m\u0142odszego pokolenia to zainteresuje. Mo\u017ce zainspiruje do podr\u00f3\u017cy do Dynowa??<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marku i Marcinie, czekam na uwagi, aby mo\u017ce co\u015b doda\u0107, co Wy zapami\u0119tali\u015bcie a mnie umkn\u0119\u0142o.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alu, Krysiu i m\u00f3j Drogi M\u0119\u017cu!, Dzi\u0119kuj\u0119, \u017ce wychowywali\u015bcie dzieci w poszanowaniu tradycji, historii i atencji wobec naszych Przodk\u00f3w oraz warto\u015bci, kt\u00f3re oni nam przekazali.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Michalin grudzie\u0144 2024<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Suplement do tekstu \u201eBo\u017ce Narodzenie \u2013 wspomnienia z dynowskiego dzieci\u0144stwa\u201d – Maria Baraniecka-Witkowska<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Po lekturze w\/w tekstu dosta\u0142am od Najbli\u017cszych Czytelnik\u00f3w pytania i uzupe\u0142nienia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Postaram si\u0119 je wyja\u015bni\u0107, lub poprawi\u0107:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Pomyli\u0142am imi\u0119 najm\u0142odszego wnuczka Marcina. Ot\u00f3\u017c nie jest to Oliver ale Elliot Henry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dodaj\u0119 te\u017c podw\u00f3jne imiona o co prosi\u0142 Marcin oraz nazewnictwo angielskie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I tak dzieci jego syna Petera Marka to: Sage Amelia oraz Jade Frosa<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dzieci Paula Michaela to: Max Jonathan oraz Elliot Henry<\/p>\n\n\n\n Natomiast syn Mateusza to Noah<\/p>\n\n\n\n Przechodz\u0119 do dzieci i wnuk\u00f3w Marka.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dzieci Ernesta to: Maia Philomena ora z Xavier Constantin<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dzieci Aleksandry Klary to; Josephine, Nell oraz Philip Levis<\/p>\n\n\n\n A teraz odpowiedzi na pytania i uzupe\u0142nienia tekstu.<\/p>\n\n\n\n M\u00f3j syn Tytus zapyta\u0142 o sal\u0119 \u201eSoko\u0142a\u201d. On j\u0105 pami\u0119ta z lat 70 tych jako sal\u0119 kinow\u0105. A wiec Sok\u00f3\u0142 to by\u0142a organizacja \u0142\u0105cz\u0105ca sport i s\u0142u\u017cb\u0119 wojskow\u0105, paramilitarna, za\u0142o\u017cona w latach 30 tych.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Po wojnie, gdy zaczynano walk\u0119 ze wszystkim co przedwojenne, jeszcze w latach 40 tych pozwalano na co nieco ( np. prezydent Bierut prowadzi\u0142 pod r\u0119k\u0119 prymasa Hlonda w czasie procesji Bo\u017cego Cia\u0142a. Curiosum!!!).<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tak wi\u0119c sal\u0119 spotka\u0144 tego\u017c Soko\u0142a przeznaczono w 1947 r. na wizyt\u0119 \u015bwi\u0119tego Miko\u0142aja, a nie dziadka Mroza, jak to potem ju\u017c bywa\u0142o, ku oburzeniu starszej generacji .I ten \u015awi\u0119ty by\u0142 ubrany jak biskup: szaty, infu\u0142a, pastora\u0142.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Potem ksi\u0119\u017ca pragn\u0119li \u201eprzenie\u015b\u0107\u201d t\u0119 posta\u0107 do ko\u015bcio\u0142a, do zakrystii dla ministrant\u00f3w, jak wspomina o tym Marcin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marek s\u0142usznie zauwa\u017cy\u0142, \u017ce elektryczno\u015b\u0107 by\u0142 w ko\u015bciele z naszego wczesnego dzieci\u0144stwa, ale \u015bwiece zmieniono na woskowe dopiero rozporz\u0105dzeniem soborowym ( czyli po 65 r.).Wcze\u015bniej by\u0142y to wysokie, ale elektryczne. W\u0142a\u015bnie takie mam przed oczami.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Pono\u0107 pierwsze drzewko na dole u Dziadzi\u00f3w sta\u0142o na fortepianie. Ja tego nie pami\u0119tam. Aczkolwiek po\u017cary tego drugiego, w salonie, ko\u0142o okien z obfitymi firankami-tak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A teraz wspomnienia Marcina:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201e<\/em>Kt\u00f3rego\u015b Bo\u017cego Narodzenia dostali\u015bmy pi\u0119kne prezenty – Ty narty, Marek \u0142y\u017cwy, a ja sanki. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n To by\u0142y prawdziwie wspania\u0142e sanki i je\u017adzi\u0142em na nich d\u0142ugo. \u0141ama\u0142em je co i rusz, ale wtedy z pomoc\u0105 przychodzi\u0142 stolarz Drelinkiewicz na Zabramiu, kt\u00f3ry za pi\u0119\u0107-siedem z\u0142otych naprawia\u0142 je i by\u0142y jak nowe. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Ten moment, gdy o wczesnym ranku – ciemnym i mro\u017anym – otwiera\u0142y si\u0119 podw\u00f3jne drzwi sypialni Rodzic\u00f3w pami\u0119tam zawsze! Oczekiwanie, napi\u0119cie nie dawa\u0142o si\u0119 por\u00f3wna\u0107 z niczym! <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n A potem drzwi si\u0119 otwiera\u0142y i wspania\u0142a choinka jarzy\u0142a si\u0119 jak zaczarowana. Znalaz\u0142em dzwonek pod poduszk\u0105 Tatusia ale w og\u00f3le nie skojarzy\u0142em tego z Anio\u0142kami. Anio\u0142ki mia\u0142y swoje dzwoneczki!!!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Po wigilii we dworze Tatu\u015b przynosi\u0142 „omsza\u0142e” wino i pili\u015bmy je w cienkich kieliszkach \u017ceby „sp\u0142uka\u0107” wigilijne ob\u017carstwo. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Po szczupaki chodzi\u0142em kiedy\u015b do Bartk\u00f3wki przez zamarzni\u0119ty San do ch\u0142opa. D\u0142uga to by\u0142a droga ale jak\u017ce\u017c wspania\u0142a! <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Na pasterce siedzia\u0142em wci\u015bniety mi\u0119dzy babci\u0119 J\u00f3zi\u0119 i dziadzia Kalunia i ciep\u0142o mi by\u0142o i przytulnie podczas gdy w ko\u015bciele zimnica by\u0142a nie do wytrzymania i k\u0142\u0119by pary wydobywa\u0142y si\u0119 z gardzieli \u015bpiewaj\u0105cych kol\u0119dy. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n „Bracia – patrzcie jeno!” grzmia\u0142o z ch\u00f3ru sk\u0105d m\u0119ski zesp\u00f3\u0142 pod batuta p. Dymczaka swoim \u015bpiewem u\u015bwietnia\u0142 pasterk\u0119. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Snopy zb\u00f3\u017c w rogach pokoju gdzie by\u0142a wigilia, lichtarze na kredensie, wielki stoj\u0105cy zegar, oczywi\u015bcie kawa mro\u017cona, ksi\u0119\u017ca\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n W pierwszy dzie\u0144 \u015awi\u0105t by\u0142o przyj\u0119cie na probostwie ale nie dla dzieci. W drugi dzie\u0144 – \u015bw. Szczepana – u nas – na dole. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Przychodzili ch\u0142opcy po kol\u0119dzie i przestawiali jase\u0142ka. \u015amier\u0107, Herod, diabe\u0142 i ch\u0142op. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Jaki\u015b czas temu pisa\u0142 mi Jurek Bu\u0142dys o tym jak ju\u017c na par\u0119 tygodni przed \u015awi\u0119tami robili pr\u00f3by i przygotowywali si\u0119 do chodzenia po domach. Ja te\u017c chodzi\u0142em, ale tylko z kol\u0119dami i z harmoni\u0105. Romek Sikorowicz, Wacek Bielawski z harmoni\u0105 i ja. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Na trzech Kr\u00f3li chodzi\u0142em te\u017c z Markiem Witkowskim. Jego Ojciec malowa\u0142 nam wtedy twarze „teatralnymi kredkami”, kt\u00f3re mia\u0142 „jeszcze ze Lwowa”. \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Dalsze wspomnienia Marcina:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Kapusta sta\u0142a w kuchni, w ogromnej beczce. Przygnieciona g\u0142azem. Wcze\u015bniej szatkowana na wielkiej szatkownicy, na kt\u00f3rej J\u00f3zia siedzia\u0142a okrakiem. Potem t\u0119 kapust\u0119 \/nie J\u00f3zi\u0119!\/, mieszano z marchwi\u0105 i czym\u015b jeszcze i dochodzi\u0142a w swojej wilgoci do wspania\u0142ego smaku. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Przewyborna na kaca! Brat J\u00f3zi, kt\u00f3ry przyszed\u0142 kiedy\u015b, do jakiej\u015b roboty u nas, nie m\u00f3g\u0142 si\u0119 ni\u0105 nazachwyca\u0107. „Daj mi J\u00f3zia jeszcze tej kapusty” m\u00f3wi\u0142, a \u0142zy mu kapa\u0142y z oczu. Taka by\u0142a krzepka!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Na piecu suszy\u0142y si\u0119 „suszki”z jab\u0142ek, do kt\u00f3rych wspinali\u015bmy si\u0119 po „otomanie”, jak J\u00f3zia nazywa\u0142a diablo tward\u0105 \u0142aw\u0119 z oparciami, w kt\u00f3rej zwykle sypia\u0142a. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Suszki byly wspania\u0142ymi s\u0142odyczami dla nas, ale na \u015awi\u0119ta by\u0142y lepsze desery, o czym ju\u017c na pewno wiecie lepiej ode mnie.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Wielki s\u0142\u00f3j ze \u015bledziami na kredensie. Sta\u0142 ca\u0142ymi dniami. Moja Krysia zachodzi\u0142a w g\u0142ow\u0119 jak to by\u0142o mo\u017cliwe, \u017ce si\u0119 nie psu\u0142y. Pyta\u0142em o to Tatusia i przys\u0142a\u0142 mi przepis jak to robiono. Mam go do dzi\u015b.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I kolejne:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Babcia Wandzia smarowa\u0142a wigilijne op\u0142atki miodem. Taki sandwich. Przynosi\u0142 je za\u015b organista Potoczny albo Kubu\u015b D\u017awigaj. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Na drzewku by\u0142y figi. Co\u015b pysznego! <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Drzewko we dworze nie by\u0142o zbyt \u0142adne. Na pewno brzydsze od naszego.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Jednego dnia, Marychno, przynios\u0142a\u015b wiadomo\u015b\u0107, \u017ce jaka\u015b Twoja kole\u017canka nie mia\u0142a na drzewku cukierk\u00f3w a jedynie kawa\u0142ki kartofli zawini\u0119te w bibu\u0142k\u0119. Zgroza nas ogarn\u0119\u0142a na t\u0119 n\u0119dz\u0119. Mamusia przygotowa\u0142a co\u015b dla tej rodziny. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Drzewko sta\u0142o do Gromnicznej. Potem czeka\u0142o si\u0119 ju\u017c na Popielec. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n W \u015bwi\u0119to Trzech Kr\u00f3li Tatu\u015b dawa\u0142 nam kadzid\u0142o, kt\u00f3re sypali\u015bmy na roz\u017carzone w\u0119gle z pieca na \u0142opatk\u0119 i ganiali\u015bmy z tym z do\u0142u na g\u00f3r\u0119 i z g\u00f3ry na d\u00f3\u0142, okadzaj\u0105c wszystkie k\u0105ty. Kadzid\u0142o by\u0142o aptekarskiego wyrobu. Wszystko naturalne. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Dalej :<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Sceneria Bo\u017cego Narodzenia te\u017c by\u0142a przemi\u0142a. By\u0142a nasza, polska, domowa i rodzinna. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Konne sanki, do kt\u00f3rych niejednokrotnie czepia\u0142em si\u0119 i w ten spos\u00f3b przeje\u017cd\u017ca\u0142em „\u015bwiat drogi”, przywozi\u0142y ludzi z odleg\u0142ych wsi i przysi\u00f3\u0142k\u00f3w do ko\u015bcio\u0142a na uroczysto\u015bci. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Ko\u015bci\u00f3\u0142 by\u0142 nabity a\u017c trzeszcza\u0142o. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Ministranci mieli kup\u0119 roboty. To jest osobny temat. Ministrantura po \u0142acinie i multum czynno\u015bci, kt\u00f3re trzeba by\u0142o wype\u0142nia\u0107. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Przedzieranie si\u0119 przez zbit\u0105 ci\u017cb\u0119, \u017ceby utorowa\u0107 drog\u0119 ksi\u0119dzu zbieraj\u0105cemu na tac\u0119 to by\u0142a praca sama dla siebie.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Maria Baraniecka-Witkowska, born in 1946 in Dyn\u00f3w<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Christmas – memories from Dyn\u00f3w’s childhood<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Approaching eighty, we start to look back with pleasure. This applies to me too. The images seen there evoke the atmosphere, voices, smells. We would like to pass this on to our loved ones, and to the three generations that have come after us. But how many of us are there?<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the first generation, there are only 7 people, namely our children: Ola and Ernest – Marek’s children; Mateusz, Piotr and Pawe\u0142 – Marcin’s children; and Kasia and Tytus – Marychna’s children. Today, they are ladies and gentlemen aged 40-56.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then the family swells. Our grandchildren number 16.<\/p>\n\n\n\n me, or Marychna, 6: Franek, Jasiek, Filip, Szymon, Tadzio and Ania.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcin similarly: Noah, Sage, Jade, Max, and Olivier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And so Marek has 5 of them: Maia, Ksavier, Jose, Nel and Filip<\/p>\n\n\n\n Our grandchildren are from 5 to 27 years old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Finally, the last generation begins: only 4 little boys, sons of Franek and Jasiek, grandsons of Marychna (Staszek, Antek, J\u00f3zek and Daniel).<\/p>\n\n\n\n But together it is already quite a large number: 27 descendants of Ma\u0142gorzata n\u00e9e Paygert and Kazimierz Baraniecki. Plus the three of us: all on Mar.. (how the Parents laughed).<\/p>\n\n\n\n So 30 people. And They, our beloved Deceased must be happy looking at this group from Heaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, with the memory of Them and with warmth towards those who surround them with memories (or will surround them), I wrote this short story about Christmas, which took place far away in Dyn\u00f3w, once very long ago, since 1947, among people who were no longer alive, in an atmosphere permeated by the recent war, in a word: a world difficult to imagine for the generation of our grandchildren. But it was our world, our family, that’s where we come from. We have to remember that. Christmas is – a magical time: at first we believed in Saint Nicholas with all our hearts, who gave us gifts on the night of December 5-6. And always a beautiful, dream gift. He never let us down, never forgot anything. Most often he left gifts near the Beds, but once he even came: in a miter, with a crozier, in magnificent, flowing robes. He asked, in a voice deceptively similar to that of our Beloved Nanny, Zosia, if we could, Angel of God. We all lost our heads: my brothers, in solidarity, started to give me some advice. We got through it! But we managed to cope with the questions about politeness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then the day of Christmas Eve, December 24, approached. And again, contact with the intangible: Angels brought us a decorated tree, under it the presents were more modest, but they were there. For us, it meant that we were good, and the Angels didn’t see everything…<\/p>\n\n\n\n But first things first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first Christmas image in my memory is the „visit” of Santa Claus in the hall of the pre-war Sok\u00f3\u0142. I am not even 2 years old, the year is 1947. Before Marek was born, Mummy didn’t push herself into the crowd, but Daddy holds me in his arms and anxiously waits to see if the holy giver will come near us. It is incredibly hot, there are shouts, everyone is stretching out their hands. Finally: there it is! a present for me. It is handed to me by a large hand gloved in bishop’s satin, since a saint is a bishop, not a dwarf. What is there? A box tied with a red bow, and inside delicious gingerbread. And how delicious.!! Daddy warms up the atmosphere: you were so good, we didn’t wait too long, but a delicious present!! (of course: Grandma Wandzia made the same gingerbread!!)<\/p>\n\n\n\n A year later I remember the tree. Huge, reaching the ceiling, between the dining room and the bedroom, in my parents’ apartment on the first floor, or „upstairs” (at that time, my parents lived in a huge apartment on the first floor of the Baraniecki tenement house at the Dyn\u00f3w market square.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Downstairs lived my grandparents Franio and there was a pharmacy, (not yet nationalized at that time, ours). And lights on it! The tree was decorated with tiny candlesticks with lit candles. A beautiful sight. Marek, 8 months old, is standing in a white bed with a railing, I am playing next to him. Our two beloved Grandmas are watching over us: J\u00f3zia and Wandzia. Always on \u201cmadam\u201d, perfectly behaved. Our parents are away: Daddy is in the army, Mummy is in the chemist\u2019s. Quiet, pleasant\u2026 Suddenly a crash, a terrible flash, Marek claps his hands, I scream. The Grandmas jumped up, Wandzia knocked over the torch tree, J\u00f3zia threw a bucket from the kitchen\u2026 Flood, ruins. Neither Marek nor I understood any of this, but Mummy later despaired like a child: she worked on decorations, dolls, chains all Advent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She wanted the children to have nice things. Apparently she never made such successful ones after that. And the poor Grandmas were so ashamed of their inattention that no one talked about the fire for too long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Another picture: we already have a second brother, there are three of us, Marcin walks perfectly, so it is 1950. By the way, we have to admit that our parents had a great time with our joy and heated up the atmosphere of the sacred and mysterious. And so, early in the morning on December 24th, Mommy jumped out of bed at the sound of the pearly bells. (I wonder who called, Daddy was sleeping blissfully, calling: „do you hear the rustle of wings? The angels are already flying away”. Of course we heard. Terrified, with beating hearts, in long nightgowns we rushed to the big room, where now under the window stood a wonderful, huge Christmas tree-fir tree. And how fabulously decorated, and how lit (again those candles!!), how fragrant. And the presents!! I remember this joy. We didn’t know where to start, what to unpack, what to enjoy. And the joy of Beloved Parents! It is impossible to describe. I see Marek walking around the tree with a tiny, green stick, me with a doll dressed in a change of dresses (this is again „Grandma Wanda’s doing”), Marcin lies among the lambs cut out by Mummy, and Daddy says: „this is another lamb”. There is freezing, the stove not yet lit, outside, of course snow and frost. But no one pays attention to it. Only Marcin has white tights, which in a moment were the colour of sand\u2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The tree is hung with candies in special, shiny wrappers, apples, and even 3 oranges?? (Maybe I’m wrong, because where could that be?). We ate the candies right away, leaving the „thick” wrappers (to the despair of the parents due to their educational fiasco).<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daddy, tired after decorating the tree at night, quietly went to lie down, „for a second.” But no way. We kept running: „let Daddy look”: Mr. Negro Jesus”, and „a monkey on a swing”, and so on for that unfortunate second. Daddy pretended to be increasingly suppressed delight at our discoveries, and we rushed downstairs to Grandma Wanda and Grandpa Franio. Were there angels with them too? Yes, they answered, but they didn’t leave any presents. We sympathized with the poor people, but only for a short while, because on their Christmas tree, standing on a small table in the living room, there were also many wonders to watch and even play with on the sly. Daddy grumbled: „Why so much cotton? (it was supposedly snow) For a new fire?” And one day there was, but a tiny one. Tradition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Grandma Kinia (our real sister, J\u00f3zia, but we also called her grandma and loved her just the same) came upstairs. She took out trinkets from her bag that „the angels had lost along the way”. I remember a bag with hazelnuts wrapped in colorful paper. It hung on my tree until recently… until it fell apart from age, and my Kasia made one just like it, as a souvenir.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The day had no end to pleasures. At Zochna’s, our friend next door, there was a Christmas tree hung with whole chocolates and baubles the size of today’s citrus fruits. Her mother was very proud. Although the whole family was nestled in the kitchen, and you could only enter the large room for a moment (you’ll get it dirty!!), that day she let us sit for a while. There was a presentation of gifts. Fortunately, I don’t remember any rivalry or jealousy. You could get so little back then. We enjoyed sweets, coloring books, collages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At 5 p.m. we sat down for Christmas Eve, downstairs. There we called wilji (a Galician regionalism). The lamp was decorated with a chain made by grandma<\/p>\n\n\n\n the best service to use, the best cutlery, of course – goats. We felt the importance of the moment and were good from the moment of the wafer. There was no question of grimacing: borscht with dumplings is my delicacy to this day, and so are pierogi with cabbage. Mummy’s nightmare was fish, river fish, with bones: „be careful”. But there were no misfortunes. People talked about the lack of these fish all the time, they never had them in the shops!! But everyone somehow managed to cope by telling how big they were \u201cbefore the war\u201d. But we didn\u2019t like these stories, because what did we care about these unpalatable fish! (Daddy\u2019s ritual question: \u201cwhy does this carp stink so much?\u201d)<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zosia and J\u00f3zia, our Beloved and Kindest Nannies also had their own Christmas Eve, and sometimes we would throw them some of our chocolates, and once even oranges, and we would listen to how it was in Bartk\u00f3wka, a village beyond the San River where they both came from.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I went to the Christmas Eve mass as a 7-year-old child, so in 1953. But more about that in a moment, because it is appropriate to add \u201cice coffee\u201d in the manor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This coffee was the apogee of the manor house party organized according to old, gentry customs: the priest and vicars invited, sheaves of 4 grains in the corners, a huge strudel in the middle of the table, under the tablecloth as much hay as in the manger. As the granddaughter of the heir, Mom was invited to the manor for iced coffee, with the whole new family. We walked to the old house surrounded by huge trees, through the town, the river, with enthusiasm, always in deep snow. I think Grandpa Franio stayed at home, in the pharmacy. This snow was too much for him, the fat boy. But Grandma Wandzia, although still in deep mourning for her 19-year-old son, Staszek, murdered in Auschwitz in 1941, in pearls on a black dress, silent, smiling sadly, was always with us, until 1970. She sat in the first place, and everyone admired her beauty and tact. She never paid us any attention, although we, fidgeters with Marcin, had to deviate from her canons of good manners. Mareczek, her favorite, was a different matter! At the large table, in the largest room of the manor, in 1952, sat great-grandfather Stefan Trzecieski (died in 1953), bearded, lost in thought, not noticing this little \u201cKazi\u00f3w\u201d, both Grandmas Kinia and J\u00f3zia, grandfather Kalunio Paygert, J\u00f3zia\u2019s husband, aunts: Hania Trzecieska and Ja\u0144cia Jaszczurowska, Stefan\u2019s sister, and parish priest Micha\u0142 Bar with vicars: Jan \u015amietana and Czes\u0142aw Korczykowski. (Later, after Stefan\u2019s death in 1953, the Or\u0142o\u015b family joined this group, renting two rooms in the manor.) The delicacies were prepared by our beloved Nanny Helcia Kami\u0144ska. The nicest member of our family, the most faithful Friend. Her coffee with whipped, frozen cream was a delicacy even for us little ones, who knew a thing or two about coffee. But coffee was regularly sent from Belgium by Kinia and J\u00f3zia’s brother, Jakub Trzecieski. But he never came.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After coffee, Kalunio would sneak away to his little room to listen to „London” – a bit of reliable information about the world. He listened in the flood of drowning out radio crackles, but he always listened with hope (for the young people reading, I will add that we were wrapped in a tight information curtain. We knew nothing about what was going on and there was no hope for it), and we would start singing carols loudly. The Trzecieskis, gifted with a great ear, sang brilliantly and with enthusiasm, and we learned all the carols then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em>I looked through the windows: it was dark all around, a snow-covered garden, branches of old trees creaking from the frost, silence… There were no lights in the houses, only sometimes a Christmas tree lit with a few candles would shine from the windows. It added charm to the moment, created an atmosphere that I was always sensitive to This group of people incredibly close to me were all displaced from their places of residence (Podolia, Pokucie, Lviv), disinherited from everything, surrounded by a sea of \u200b\u200bhating former landowners – communists, living very modestly, not to mention in poverty every day. But no one lost their sense of dignity, loyalty to their principles and values. They became role models for us all our lives. I would like them to become such for our youngest as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After ten o’clock, my parents gave the sign to retreat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I begged that I wanted to go to the midnight mass. Mummy didn’t like it. „You’ll be sleep-deprived and unbearable”. But I had an ally in Grandma Kinia. And in 1953, I went to it for the first time in the company of Daddy. I don’t remember how my poor brothers endured it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I will never forget the midnight mass, that first one. The church was packed, especially by the inhabitants of the village of Bartk\u00f3wka beyond the San (there was no bridge. You had to go by boat or walk on ice), the church walls were frosted, but the steam from the mouths of those singing carols quickly melted them. There probably wasn’t electricity yet, so the candles were sizzling…<\/p>\n\n\n\n The wonderful organist, Augustyn Potoczny (incidentally, my future father-in-law’s cousin), with his incomparable bass, perfectly audible, although without a microphone, initiated: „Amid the silence of the night”. The loud singing of the faithful proved that people exhausted by war needed such consolation so much that they saw their hope in the Newborn… The Holy Mass was naturally in Latin, with our backs to the faithful, so we sang non-stop except for the Gospel and the Elevation. But those were the times, especially before the Council.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I returned home full of impressions and emotion, with the resolution to always participate in the Midnight Mass. And so it is, although not in Dyn\u00f3w anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The 1950s, the ones I described, were slowly fading into history. There were fewer and fewer of us at the villa: Great-grandfather Stefan Trzecieski died, as did his sister, Aunt Ja\u0144cia Jaszczurowska, grandfather Kalunio Paygert, and in the pharmacy, Grandpa Franio Baraniecki.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We, that is, my brothers and I, always came home from Warsaw for the holidays in the 1960s, where we went to high school, then to university. And when we started our own families, it happened less often. In 1971, Grandma Wandzia Baraniecka, previously old Zosia Siry, died, J\u00f3zia married Mr. \u017burawski. The house was empty, my parents went to dinner at the manor. There, customs and traditions were preserved regardless of old age or lack of strength. I don’t remember if any of us took part in them? We didn’t take pictures, and my memory fails me. What a pity. But Mummy described everything to us in long letters. While reading them, I could feel the unique atmosphere of „our manor”. In the 80s, everything ended: Grandmas J\u00f3zia and Kinia, then Aunt Hania and Helcia passed away, Parents moved to Warsaw, Mark and Marcin moved to Canada. Our Kasia also got married there. Christmas Eves, yes, Christmas Eves now, were held in Michalin. My Andrzej would bring his parents from Grottger, beloved ones, always loaded with presents, and Mummy with dumplings for borscht, my mother-in-law, Maria Witkowska, would prepare a „Galician” menu, as she herself came from Przemy\u015bl and then Lviv. We, especially Daddy, really enjoyed it, and she was able to conjure up treats out of nothing. We tried to revive the old atmosphere, but „you can’t enter the same river twice”, it wasn’t the same as there, in Dyn\u00f3w…<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then in the 90s Agnieszka appeared among us, and my mother-in-law passed away, then Daddy. News and photos of the next weddings of my brothers’ children began to reach us from Canada. Our grandchildren were born, Franio and Jasio were the first, the most receptive to my stories about the old days…<\/p>\n\n\n\n History comes full circle…<\/p>\n\n\n\n I am attaching some photos of our Christmas tree decorations to the text, very, very old, but which I keep as a precious souvenir or illustration: a candlestick with a real candle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I am counting on help in translating the text into English. Maybe someone from the younger generation will be interested in it. Maybe it will inspire a trip to Dyn\u00f3w??<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marek and Marcin, I am waiting for your comments so that I can add something that you have remembered and I have missed. Alu, Krysia and my Dear Husband! Thank you for raising children in respect for tradition, history and attention to our Ancestors and the values \u200b\u200bthat they passed on to us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Michalin, December 2024<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Supplement to the text „Christmas – memories from Dyn\u00f3w’s childhood” – Maria Baraniecka-Witkowska<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n And now the answers to the questions and additions to the text.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n My son Tytus asked about the „Sok\u00f3\u0142” auditorium. He remembers it from the 70s as a cinema auditorium. Sok\u00f3\u0142 was an organization combining sports and military service, paramilitary, founded in the 1930s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After the war, when the fight against everything pre-war began, even in the 1940s they allowed a little (for example, President Bierut led Primate Hlond by the arm during the Corpus Christi procession. Curiosum!!!).<\/p>\n\n\n\n So the meeting room of this Sok\u00f3\u0142 was designated in 1947 for the visit of Saint Nicholas, and not Grandpa Mr\u00f3z, as it was later, to the indignation of the older generation. And this Saint was dressed like a bishop: robes, miter, crozier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then the priests wanted to „transfer” this figure to the church, to the sacristy for altar boys, as Marcin recalls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Marek rightly noticed that the church had electricity from our early childhood, but the candles were changed to wax candles only by a council decree (i.e. after 1965). Previously, they were tall, but electric. That’s exactly what I have in mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Supposedly the first tree downstairs at Grandpa’s stood on a piano. I don’t remember that. Although the fires of the second one, in the living room, near the windows with abundant curtains – yes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And now Marcin’s memories:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n „One Christmas we got beautiful presents – you skis, Marek skates, and I a sleigh.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n They were truly wonderful sleighs and I rode them for a long time. I broke them all the time, but then the carpenter Drelinkiewicz from Zabram came to the rescue, who for five or seven zlotys repaired them and they were as good as new.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I always remember that moment when in the early morning – dark and frosty – the double doors of the parents’ bedroom opened! The anticipation, the tension could not be compared to anything!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n And then the doors opened and the wonderful Christmas tree glowed as if enchanted. I found a bell under Daddy’s pillow but I did not associate it with Angels at all. The angels had their own little bells!!!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n After Christmas Eve at the manor, Daddy would bring „mossy” wine and we would drink it in thin glasses to „wash down” the Christmas Eve gluttony.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I used to go to Bartk\u00f3wka to get pike across the frozen San to a peasant. It was a long way but oh so wonderful!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n At the Christmas Eve mass I sat squeezed between Grandma J\u00f3zia and Grandpa Kalunia and I was warm and cozy, while in the church the cold was unbearable and clouds of steam escaped from the throats of those singing carols.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n „Brothers – look only!” thundered from the choir where a male band conducted by Mr. Dymczak honored the Christmas Eve mass with their singing.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Sheaves of grain in the corners of the room where Christmas Eve was, candlesticks on the sideboard, a large standing clock, of course iced coffee, priests\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n On the first day of Christmas there was a party at the rectory but not for children. On the second day – St. Stephen’s Day – at our place – downstairs.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The boys would come after carols and perform nativity plays. Death, Herod, the devil and the peasant.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Some time ago Jurek Bu\u0142dys wrote to me about how a few weeks before Christmas they were already rehearsing and preparing to go from house to house. I went too, but only with carols and an accordion. Romek Sikorowicz, Wacek Bielawski with an accordion and me.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I also went to Epiphany with Marek Witkowski. His father would then paint our faces with „theatrical crayons” that he had „from Lviv”. \u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Marcin’s further memories:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The cabbage stood in the kitchen, in a huge barrel. Crushed by a boulder. Previously, it had been chopped on a large shredder, on which J\u00f3zia sat astride. Then this cabbage (not J\u00f3zia!), was mixed with carrots and something else and in its moisture it came to a wonderful taste.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Excellent for a hangover! J\u00f3zia’s brother, who once came to do some work for us, couldn’t get enough of it. „J\u00f3zia, give me some more of that cabbage,” he would say, tears dripping from his eyes. She was so strong!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n „Dried apples” were drying on the stove, to which we would climb on the „ottoman,” as J\u00f3zia called the devilishly hard bench with backrests, where she usually slept.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The dried apples were wonderful sweets for us, but there were better desserts for Christmas, which you surely know better than I do.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n A large jar of herring on the sideboard. It stood there for days. My Krysia wondered how it was possible that they didn’t spoil. I asked Daddy about it and he sent me the recipe for how it was made. I still have it.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n And another:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Grandma Wandzia spread honey on Christmas Eve wafers. A sandwich. They were brought by the organist Potoczny or Kubu\u015b D\u017awigaj.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n There were figs on the tree. Something delicious!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The tree in the manor was not very pretty. It was definitely uglier than ours.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n One day, Marychna, you brought news that some friend of yours had no candy on her tree, only pieces of potatoes wrapped in tissue paper. We were horrified by this misery. Mummy prepared something for this family.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The tree stood until Candlemas. Then we waited for Ash Wednesday.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n On the Feast of the Three Kings, Daddy gave us incense, which we poured onto the hot coals from the stove onto a shovel and chased it from bottom to top and top to bottom, fumigating every corner. The incense was made by a chemist. All natural.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Next:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The Christmas scenery was also very nice. It was ours, Polish, homely and family-like.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Horse-drawn sleighs, to which I often clung and thus traveled „the world’s way”, brought people from distant villages and hamlets to the church for the celebrations.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The church was packed to the point of creaking.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The altar boys had a lot of work. This is a separate topic. Altar boys in Latin and a multitude of tasks that had to be performed.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Forcing your way through the dense crowd to clear a path for the priest collecting money for the collection plate was a job in itself.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Maria Baraniecka-Witkowska ur. w 1946 r. W Dynowie Zbli\u017caj\u0105c si\u0119 do osiemdziesi\u0105tki zaczynamy rozgl\u0105da\u0107 si\u0119 z upodobaniem za siebie. I mnie to dotyczy. Obrazy… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":2757,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32,28],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2756","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-wspomnienia","category-wydarzenia-troche-dawniejsze"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2756","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2756"}],"version-history":[{"count":15,"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2756\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2781,"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2756\/revisions\/2781"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2757"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2756"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2756"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2756"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.witkowscy.net\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/Apteka-dzis-1024x718.jpg\")
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