Włocławek Youth Document Jewish History

10 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Heritage work, Jewish Culture, Kolski, Memory, Piwko, Polish-Jewish Heritage, Post-World War II, Synagogues, World War II, Włocławek

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When I visited Włocławek last February, I was disheartened by the crumbling historic buildings that were formerly owned by pre-World War II Jewish residents. Still, I met a few people actively involved in documenting and preserving the memory of the city’s Jewish population. They include: Mirosława Stojak, who writes about Włocławek’s Jews and manages the website zydzi.wloclawek.pl, Tomasz Wąsik, the historian and director of the Museum of History in Włocławek, and Tomasz Kawski, a historian and professor at Kazimierz the Great University in Bydgoszcz, and author of several books on the history of Polish Jews.

And now high school students in Włocławek have been collecting photographs, writing historical accounts, and doing interviews with people who remember the events of World War II. Their work can be seen on their Facebook page. Here are just a few of the photos they have posted. The synagogue on Królowiecka Street:

Synagogue on ul. Królowiecka, Włocławek

The synagogue on Zabia Street:

Synagogue ul. Żabia, Włocławek

And here the synagogue in flames:

The synagogue in flames. Source: http://www.4ict.pl/szlaki_pamieci/

Jews in front of the burned Włocławek synagogue. Source: http://www.4ict.pl/szlaki_pamieci/

The students write on their Facebook page:

“On September 24, 1939, Germans ordered Jews they selected to bring a barrel full of tar to the synagogue on Żabia Street. Then they forced them to ignite the fire.

In this way, one of the prettiest synagogues in Poland ceased to exist. The synagogue on Królowiecka Street met the same fate.”

“24 września 1939 roku Niemcy nakazali wyznaczonym przez siebie Żydom wprowadzenie do Synagogi na ulicy Żabiej beczek wypełnionych smołą. Następnie zmusili ich do wzniecenia pożaru.
“Tym samym przestała istnieć jedna z najpiękniejszych Synagog w Polsce.
Podobny los spotkał Synagogę przy ulicy Królewieckiej.”

So while horrible truths are communicated, this project and the Facebook page that documents it stand out to me as a marker of hope. A new generation of Włocławek residents are learning about this difficult history, and returning the story of what happened to the city’s Jews to the center of the narrative about their hometown.

Super Kosher Cookies and Sliced Ham

07 Thursday Jan 2016

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Bereda, Family, Jewish Culture, Jewish immigrants, Kolski, Names, Piwko, Winawer

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Efraim/Philip Piwko, Halina Piwko Bereda, Hiel Majer Piwko, Hinda Walfisz Piwko, Jankel Wolf Piwko and Tema Walfisz, Kosher, Maria Bereda(y) Galbraith

My brother Chris and I hosted a cousin reunion on Long Island in mid-December. I extended invitations to my old family—those I grew up with—and my new family—the cousins I have only recently found out about. My (new) cousin Eldad made sure to encourage the cousins on his mother’s side to attend. He also said he would bring “super kosher cookies” for the guests who are very religious and who might not eat otherwise.

I wanted to provide kosher food also, so Chris suggested we get everything at the Bagel Boss, a nearby kosher deli. But still, I don’t know how to serve a kosher meal in a non-kosher kitchen. So I did what most people do when they want to learn something. I got on the Internet and did a search for “how to feed kosher guests.” Several sites confirmed some things we had already thought about, like using paper plates and plastic ware. But I also learned some new things. There are many different degrees of kosher, but it’s best to keep the kosher food separate from the non-kosher food, and in its original packaging so guests can read the labels and know what kind of kosher everything is.

Trying to make my guests comfortable was important to me. Religious differences were at the heart of what divided our family, and the whole point of the reunion was to forge new links where old ones were severed.

Chris and I had fun selecting the bagels, cream cheese, fish, and salads at the deli. We talked with the owners, who assured us everything they have is kosher. They didn’t have a brochure we could take, so we photographed their kosher certification just in case. Even though we weren’t raised Jewish, we grew up on this kind of food. When I was eight years old, a bagel bakery moved in next to the local King Kullen supermarket. Mom loved bagels—we all did—and would pick some up every time she went grocery shopping. They’re one of the main things I look forward to when I visit Long Island—there are no good bagels in Tuscaloosa.

In addition to lox we got sable, which needs to be hand sliced to order. This takes special skill and only one particular clerk knows how to do it. I think we made his day. He rhapsodized about how supple and symmetrical the sable was, and held it up for us to admire. He gave us a slice to sample.

At the party store, we found a plastic knife sturdy enough to slice bagels, plastic serving spoons for the salads, and matching blue plates, cups, napkins, and tablecloth. Chris decided a large plastic bowl molded to look like cabbage leaves would be perfect for holding the bagels, and the ideal kitschy accessory to add to his serving ware. We set everything up on the side counter, separate from the non-kosher food in ceramic bowls on the kitchen table.

And then the pace of everything accelerated. We got a call from Aunt Pat that her son Marc was sick and they wouldn’t be able to come after all. The baby was fussy. Chris and others drove off on last minute errands. My first cousin Krysia and my husband Jeremy helped with final preparations. Before I knew it, guests were arriving. I never even had a chance to change into my party dress.

Jeremy and Bob (descendant of Abraham/John Piwko and Bertha/Blima Kolska)

Arline, Joan (descendant of Liba Piwko and Jacob Winawer), Krysia (descendant of Halina Piwko Bereday), and Jodi (Joan’s daughter)

Sal (descendant of Abram Piwko) and wife Mira, Daniella, (Eldad’s daughter and descendant of Pouli Piwko and Abrash Kolski)

Steve (Krysia’s husband) and Eldad (descendant of Pouli Piwko and Abrash Kolski)

Anna, Miriam, and Susi (descendants of Abram, son of Jankel and Tema).

Elizabeth, who I grew up calling aunt, and Marsha (Eldad’s wife)

I have only two regrets. First, that Aunt Pat couldn’t be there. She is the one who set me on the path that led to my first connections with lost relatives. Pat is a professional genealogist who collected information about the family in the 1970s. At the time she knew or contacted many cousins. Her charts, records, and memories have been tremendous resources. My second regret is that I didn’t have the opportunity to talk as much as I wanted with everyone who did come.

The first to arrive were the Bellaks. Even though we are not related by blood, these are the people I grew up with. Elizabeth and Mama knew each other in Poland and found each other by chance years later while registering for classes at Teacher’s College in Manhattan. Elizabeth and George, with their children Andrew and Alexandra would visit more often than our biological kin. Elizabeth loves good food, and always comes with a bag full of goodies. This time, she whispered something to me about a ham. I didn’t think anything of it.

Krysia, who has been with me on this journey from the beginning, guided most of the guests downstairs to see the family tree I had printed and posted to the wall. We’re related (by descent or marriage) to two brothers—Jechiel/Hiel (1854-1929) and Jankel (d. 1887) Piwko—who married two sisters—Hinda (1854-1933) and Tema (1858-1925) Walfisz.

The Piwkos lived in Skierniewice. According to Aunt Pat’s notes, Jozef Piwko (1824-1912) was a successful businessman who ran a tannery that had been in the family for generations. And he had four wives. I’ve only been able to find vital records for two of them. Cywia Rajch (1828-1862) was the mother of Jechiel, Jankel, and Dawid (1862-1865). She died within months of giving birth to Dawid. Jozef then married Sura Burgerman (b. 1842) and they had a son Nusen Dawid in 1866 and a daughter Chawa in 1871. Sura was already deceased when Chawa married in 1891.

Nusen Walfisz (b. 1817), originally from Wyszogród, lived in Żychlin with his wife Pesa Losman (b. 1831) and daughters Hinda, Tema, and Łaya (b. 1864). Nusen was a belfer, a religious education teacher.

Żychlin book of residents, Walfisz family first half. Hinda, third from the top, was crossed out when she married and moved to Skierniewice.

Żychlin Book of Residents, Walfisz family second half.

Most of the cousins who came to the reunion descend from Jankel and Tema through their son Abram who moved to Zurich before World War II. Eldad (who came with his wife and daughter) is related to them through his mother Pouli. He’s also related to Jechiel and Hinda, my great grandparents, through his father, another Abram (though he’s often called Abrash). In other words, Eldad’s parents were second cousins.

Abram Piwko and family in Switzerland 1947

There is a lot of intertwining like this in the family tree—among the Piwkos, Winawers, and Kolskis especially. Two of my grandmother’s sisters married Winawers (Jacob and Liba’s granddaughter Joan came to the reunion with her daughter Jodi); another sister, Sarah married Sol (their granddaughters were supposed to come but had to cancel at the last minute), and her brother Abraham Jan/John married a Kolska (their great grandson Bob came to the reunion). Two other sisters married the Pinkus/Pinchas Kolski (after Regina died in childbirth, Rachel married him and had four more children). I’m still trying to trace how all the various Piwkos, Kolskis, and Winawers are related.

Morris Winawer and Hannah Gelman’s wedding 1935 in New York. Also pictured: brothers Sol and Max and mother Liba Winawer, nee Piwko.

Rachel (nee Piwko) and Pinkus Kolski in Poland with their children

Some of the guests at the reunion are very religious. Susie (a great granddaughter of Jankel and Tema) called the day before to ask if there is an orthodox synagogue nearby. I didn’t understand at first, but she explained she needed to go before sunset. I gave her the phone number of a Chabad house that referred her to a synagogue just two miles away. She stayed in regular contact with them throughout the afternoon, and recruited several men from the party to make sure there would be a minyan for sunset prayers. It turned out there were already 10 men there when they arrived. Standing in the living room, another cousin remarked this is the closest she’s ever been to a Christmas tree.

Several cousins are artists—Miriam (Susie’s sister) used to do ceramics but now she prefers enamels, her husband Shiah does woodwork and fused glass. Arline is a painter. We’re also a well-educated bunch. Daniella is a historian and professor; Bob is a musicologist, curator, and librarian; my brother Chris has a PhD in economics; Sal’s wife Mira is a professor of political theory.

Arline is a straight talking 91 year old. She remains spry—going up and down stairs without assistance—and mentally acute. We tried but failed to work out how we are related. She believes that her husband (Harry Jacoby) was related to Tema Walfisz, while she descends from another Walfisz sister (maybe Łaya?). I looked on Ancestry and found a reference to Leah Walfisz. Could that be the link? Arline’s grandfather came to the US but her grandmother refused because she didn’t think it would be kosher enough.

Arline remembers my mother’s brother Philip, who ran the bakery that most relatives worked in when they first came over from Europe. She met Mama and Babcia at Philip’s when they first arrived in the US. Mama was withdrawn, maybe even anti-Semitic. Arline remembers Mama comparing blacks in the US to Jews in Poland. Babcia babysat for Arline’s children, and also sold handkerchiefs to all the relatives. That’s how she earned money when she first got to the US.

Arline talks with Mama

I went with Arline when she visited Mama who was in bed in her room. At first Mama did not remember her, which is not surprising considering seventy years have passed, and Mama sometimes doesn’t recognize me anymore. Only later, after Arline talked for a while, Mama recognized Arline’s voice. Arline was explaining that her parents (or was it her husband’s parents?) were with Philip when he died. They had attended a wedding in Massachusetts together, and were on their way home when the car ran off the road.

I had hoped that this reunion would be an opportunity for my old family (the one I grew up knowing) to meet my new family (the relatives I have only recently learned about). The super kosher cookies and the sliced ham represent some of the challenges of making that a reality.

I never got around to eating so I didn’t see the ham on the table until after everyone had left. At first I was upset. I had worked so hard to make our kosher guests comfortable and I didn’t want to offend anyone. It struck me as so stereotypical and even mean spirited to serve the food that symbolizes the opposite of kosher. But it turns out no one deliberately meant the ham to represent anything. Elizabeth handed it to my husband, who found a plate and set it on the table without a thought about what it might mean to anybody. And in retrospect, it was probably just as well. Intent aside, maybe some of my old family felt more comfortable because the ham was there. Just as some needed the kosher cookies, maybe eating the ham was for others a normal part of not being Jewish, or of no longer being Jewish, or of not keeping kosher. I don’t know for sure, because I didn’t ask anyone, nor did I pay much attention to what people ate. And, as a friend remarked later, with ham on the table no one had to wonder what food wasn’t kosher.

Bridging the divides forged by my grandmother’s conversion will not always be easy. It’s complicated. But we’re family so we’ll figure it out.

The photo: some reassembled stories

10 Friday Jul 2015

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Family, Names, Piwko, Polish-Jewish Heritage, Włocławek

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Abram Janas Piwko, Efraim/Philip Piwko, Halina Bereda/Haja Piwko, Hanna Cytryn, Hil Majer Piwko, Hinda Walfisz Piwko, Jakub Piwko, Liba Piwko Winawer, Natan Kolski, Rachel Piwko Kolski, Sarah Piwko Winawer

When I first saw this photo in the summer of 2011, I knew almost nothing— I didn’t know who was in it, nor even my grandmother’s maiden name. I figured the older couple was my grandmother’s parents. Were the others their children? Could one of them be my grandmother? And who was the boy in the front row?

My brother Chris and cousin Krysia almost immediately recognized the woman on the bottom left, as our grandmother. With her coquettishly tilted head, her stylish clothes, and her hand resting on her mother’s wrist, it seemed likely to me, too. But I wanted to be sure.

This photo has proven to be an essential clue in my search for family history. Many of the cousins I have met are familiar with the photo and helped me identify everyone in it. In fact, it has helped me establish connections with cousins, and served as proof that we are actually related. When I contacted Pini in Israel, he was skeptical at first that we were cousins. But when I sent him this photo, he responded, “Welcome back to the family.” And he meant it. I feel embraced by the large clan of descendants of my great grandparents, the elderly couple in the photo whom I now know are Hinda (nee Walfisz) and Hil Majer Piwko.

Hil Majer Piwko

Hinda Piwko

And it is indeed my grandmother Halina in the bottom left corner.

Halka Piwko, my grandmother

This photo has led me to living relatives, and back to the time depicted in the image. It helps me see and feel what family life was like back then, and adds depth to my understanding of the dry genealogical facts I have gathered.

Even my uncle Stanley Winawar has spoken to me from the grave in the form of a letter he wrote to Pini in 2002 (just two years before his death) in which he identifies everyone in this photo, and lists many of their descendants as well. One of my regrets is not having started this search sooner so I could have talked with Stanley and others before they died. At least through the letters, I’ve had a taste of the conversations we might have had.

So let me introduce my family:

Sarah Winawer

Starting at the top left, most people identify the elegantly dressed woman as Sara (Piwko) Winawer, Uncle Stanley’s mother. Born in 1880, she was the second daughter of my great grandparents. On a list compiled by my Aunt Pat (probably based on a conversation with my grandmother’s sister Hanna/Nunia), she is described as having “beautiful hair.” She married Saul Winawer in 1899, and they had four children (Nathan, Milton, Stanley, and Paulina). My mom stayed in touch with her aunt Sara in the United States, though she was known in my family as Lusia (apparently no one besides our branch of the family called her that). She died in 1964 when I was 6 months old. She was too sick to visit me, but told my Mom on the phone that she would watch over me from heaven. I only heard this story once or twice when I was a child, but it left an impression on me. I liked the idea of having a guardian angel of sorts. Who knows? Maybe it foreshadowed this search for deeper connections with my mother’s extended family.

Jakub Piwko

Next in the top row is Jakub, the oldest son born around 1874. Aunt Pat says he had four wives, including Helen Esther Kirsten, Genia Ellinberg, and Rozalia Kirsten. She (Nunia?) describes him as blond, delicate, of medium height, resembling his maternal grandfather Natan Walfisz. He was a Zionist and member of the governing board of the Jewish Community of Włocławek from December 1917 until resigning on March 3, 1922. He was also a representative on the City Council from 1917-19 (see virtual sztetl). Jakub died in 1942; by one cousin’s account he owned a small hotel in Otwock and was shot by Nazis for being out on the street after curfew. He had a son Natan who emigrated to Israel and a daughter, Pola.

In a letter to Pini, Stanley (Sara’s son) wrote, “The space missing between Jacob and Liba was obviously reserved for Yona…” Abraham/Abram, the second-born son, was called by his middle name John/Yona/Janas. Born around 1876, Pat (Nunia?) describes him “devil eyes, tall, brunette, liked girls and girls liked him, 6’ 2”-6’ 4”.” He was the first in the family to come to the United States, arriving in New York in January 1906. His wife Bertha/Blima (they married in 1901) followed in May 1907 with their children Nathan, Paula/Pauline, and Ewa. A fourth child, Sarah, was born in New York. Abraham owned a bakery in Brooklyn until his death in 1925.

Liba Winawer

In the middle of the top row is the oldest child Liba, born around 1872. Aunt Pat’s list (Nunia’s description?) says she was tall, blond, and beautiful. At the age of 17 or 18 she married Jakob/Jankiel Winawer. I don’t know how he was related to Saul Winawer (Sarah’s husband), but some say they were cousins. Liba and Jakob had four sons—Nusen, Sol/Saloman, Max, and Morris. In 1928, Liba and Jakob came to the US, where their three younger sons were living. Jakob died there in 1932, but I haven’t found a record of Liba’s death. Did she die in the US? If so, why isn’t it documented? Could she have returned to Poland, where her oldest son still lived? Could she have died in the death camp at Treblinka in 1942, as some say Natan did?

Hanna Cytryn

Next to Liba is Hanna (born around 1886), though everyone in the family called her Nunia. I’ve already written about her, but briefly, she married Stanisław/Samson Cytryn and had one daughter, Teresa. She and Samson lived in Warsaw where they ran a shop that has variously been described as a pharmacy or a supplier of lotions and toiletries. Maybe she was an herbalist and so offered products that crossed the boundary between health and beauty? She took over the shop after her husband’s death in 1927. Nunia spent World War II in Warsaw under the false identity of Maria Weglinska (the name she kept until her death in 1984) After the war, she lived in Paris, and then in 1951 she moved to the US.

Philip Piwko

Next is Philip/Efraim, described by Pat (Nunia?) as “six foot, blond, pock marked, shy, sweet.” Born around 1882, he came to the US a couple of years after his brother, at the end of 1907. He, too, owned a bakery though I don’t know if it was the same one as his brother or a different one. Philip married Goldie. They never had any children of their own, but they took care of siblings, nieces, and nephews as they immigrated to the US. Many of the cousins remember him as the glue that held the family together in the US. Philip died tragically in an auto accident in 1947 on his way home from Boston.

Rachel Kolska

At the far right of the top row is Rachel, who was born around 1890 between Hanna and Halina (my grandmother). Pat (Nunia?) describes her as shorter than her sisters, with thick thick hair. She married Pinkus/Pinchas Kolski, the widow of her older sister Regina who died giving birth to a son, Natan. Rachel raised Natan, and had four more children with Pinkus—Samek, Abram, Naftali/Maniek, and Mirka. They settled in Włocławek, where they had a store right in the center of town. After the war broke out, Rachel, Pinkus, and Mirka (who was just a teenager—she was ten years younger than her youngest brother) were moved to the ghetto in Warsaw. Pinkus, who was in ill health, died there in 1940, and Rachel and Mirka escaped and lived on the Aryan side under false papers. After the war ended, they joined Natan, Abram, and Maniek who were living in Israel. Rachel died in 1969.

Natan Kolski

On the bottom left, as I have already said, is my grandmother Haja/Halina, born in 1894. Seated beside her is her mother, Hinda (Walfisz) Piwko, while her father Hil Majer Piwko is on the far right. The young boy is Natan, the son of Regina and Pinkus Kolski. Perhaps he was there in his mother’s place, just like a gap was left for Abraham/John? Natan is said to have spent a lot of time with his grandparents. His position between them suggests they were very fond of each other. And I almost forgot one more member of the family—the dog under the couch behind Natan’s feet. Could this have been Natan’s dog? Another sign of the favor of his grandparents? I don’t know but I like to think of it that way.

So that’s my grandmother’s family, excluding only Małka who died as a teenager and two other siblings who died as infants.

Considering Natan was born in October 1905, I would guess this photo was taken near the end of the 1910s, maybe in 1919. Natan looks like he’s about 12, like my son is now, or maybe a little older. It seems unlikely the photo would have been taken during World War I, especially because of Philip’s presence. Philip was living in the US already (he is listed in both the 1910 and 1920 US census) and I don’t think he would have made the journey during the war. I don’t know enough about the history of fashion to be sure, but Halina’s dress seems scandalously short for the period, and even Rachel’s hemline is a few inches above her ankles. Still, I read that hemlines started to rise in Europe in 1915. I wonder, as well, whether Hanna’s comparatively simple dress was because she was less well off than her sisters, or perhaps was rather due to a more practical nature (which fits with how I remember her).

The photo is a window into the past. In it, I see a large, affluent, close family, but one in which social and cultural divisions were growing through the generations. While father Hil’s thick beard, black cap and long coat were characteristic of a conservative, religious Jew, his older son (the Zionist) had a shorter, more trimmed beard, and his younger son, by now an American citizen, sported only a moustache. The twenty-two-year gap between Liba, the oldest sibling, and Halina, the youngest, also seems apparent in the way they carried themselves and dressed.

I’ve learned a lot since I pulled this photo out of the envelope my grandmother had marked “Do Not Open.” And yet it all remains fragmentary. Most of the richer details are tentative, based on stories I try to piece together into something more substantial. But the fragments stand stubbornly apart from each other, and sometimes even in opposition to each other. Did Rachel accept her sister’s son Natan as one of her own, or did he spend much of his time with his grandparents? Perhaps it was both, since Hinda and Hil also lived in Włocławek later in life. Why does Liba seem to be retreating into the background? Is it just an accident of the lighting or a reflection of her character? Why was my grandmother holding her mother’s hand like that? Was it a sign of affection or perhaps an assertion of autonomy? The more I sit with this photo, the stronger I feel a connection with these people. And still, how distant they remain from me.

Chil Majer Piwko’s death notices in the Yiddish press

01 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Archives, Family, Piwko, Polish-Jewish relations, Yiddish

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Hil Majer Piwko

After reading my previous post about Chil Majer Piwko’s death notice, my cousin Raphael from Switzerland sent me a couple more that were published the same day (June 16 1929). These were in the Yiddish newspapers Hajnt and Der Moment.

Chil Majer Piwko’s death notice from the Yiddish-language newspaper Der Moment

Chil Majer Piwko’s death notice from the Yiddish-langugage newspaper Hajnt

Besides wanting to share them, this gives me the opportunity to revise what I said about Chil Majer. My conversations with a couple of readers helps me realize my hasty use of the term “assimilated” (even though it is widely used in the historic literature) probably does not communicate what I intended. What I meant to signal was that Chil Majer likely considered himself Polish as well as Jewish. But I have no doubt that he was also a very religious man. Nor did I mean to suggest he was on the road to adopting Polish culture in replacement of his Jewish faith. On the contrary, I’m interested in the places and spaces where Polish and Jewish affiliations intersected, complemented each other, or existed side by side.

The fact that his death notice appeared in three Jewish newspapers emphasizes even more strongly the important position Chil Majer filled in the community. The Polish-language Nasz Przegląd tended to take a more integrationist stance, in the sense that it catered to Jews who were comfortable operating in the Polish language, and who tended to invision a place for Jews within the broader Polish society. The Yiddish-language Haynt and Der Moment were competing papers that were Zionist in orientation. As such, they tended to highlight the interests of Jews as distinct from the Polish (Catholic) majority. The publication of the death notice in both languages shifts the emphasis, indicating an allegiance to both Jewish autonomy and to Polish-Jewish allegiances.

For more information about the Jewish press, see a brief summary by the Yivo Institute or Angela White’s dissertation on the Polish language Jewish press.

Warsaw archive weekend

31 Sunday May 2015

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Archives, Family, Piwko, Polish-Jewish relations

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Hil Majer Piwko

The first find of the weekend, at the National Library in Warsaw: my great grandfather Hil Majer Piwko’s death notice in Nasz Przegląd, one of the main Polish-language Jewish newspapers in interwar Poland.

Chil Majer Piwko’s death notice in Nasz Przegląd, June 16, 1929.

The text reads:

B. P. [Blessed in memory] Chil Majer Piwko died in Włocławek after brief but heavy suffering on the 12^th of June 1929 (4 Siwon), at the age of 75, and was buried the same day.

To everyone who helped him on his final road, lamenting our husband and father, and especially the Funeral Brotherhood with its honorable president at its head. Wishing to express “God bless,” left in deep sadness,

Wife, sons, daughters, daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

The size and placement of the notice indicates my great grandfather held a position of relative prominence in the Jewish community. Also, appearing in Nasz Przegląd as opposed to any of the Yiddish or Hebrew language newspapers indicates that he identified as a Pole as well as a Jew. He was assimilated into the broader society, even though he maintained conservative modes of dress and religious practices.

I’m also struck by the mention of great grandchildren in the death notice. That’s also me, even though I wouldn’t be born for another 35 years

The Piwko Saga, Vital Records Version

10 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Archives, Brześć Kujawski, Family, Names, Piwko, Pre-World War II, Skierniewice, Sobota, Włocławek, Żychlin

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Abram Janas Piwko, Efraim/Philip Piwko, Halina Bereda/Haja Piwko, Hil Majer Piwko, Hinda Walfisz Piwko, Jakub Piwko, Liba Piwko Winawer, Maria Weglinska/Hana Piwko, Małka/Maria Piwko, Pinkus Kolski, Rachel Piwko Kolski, Ryfka Piwko Kolski, Sarah Piwko Winawer

I’ve found records connecting my great grandparents’ lives to five different towns in central Poland.

Hiel Mayer Piwko’s birth certificate, 1854

A birth certificate in the Łódź archive states that Josek Piwko, a thirty-year-old tanner appeared with two witnesses to report that his wife Cywia nee Raych, age 26, gave birth to a son Hil Majer on October 26/ November 7, 1854[1] at eight in the evening in the city of Skierniewice.

Żychlin book of residents, Walfisz family first half. Hinda, third from the top, was crossed out when she married and moved to Skierniewice.

In the Kutno archive, the book of Żychlin residents includes Hinda Walfisz, born August 14, 1854 (making her two months older than her future husband). Others in the household include her parents and two younger sisters. Her father Nusen was born June 14, 1817 in Wyszogród. His profession is listed as belfer, (According to JewishGen this means an assistant melamed in cheder [religious teacher]). His parents were Jamoch and Hinda nee Pigel. Her mother Pesa was born February 5, 1831 in Żychlin to Dawid Losman and Tema nee Majerek. The two other girls were Tema, born March 28, 1858 and Łaja, born May 2, 1861.

Żychlin Book of Residents, Walfisz family second half.

Hinda’s name is crossed out and a note is added on June 22, 1873 that she moved to Skierniwice to live with her husband Hil Majer Piwko. Hinda’s sister Tema eventually married Hil Majer’s younger brother Jankel Wolf, from whom the Zurich Piwkos descended.

The next document, found in the Łowicz archive, is the marriage certificate of Hil and Hinda’s oldest daughter, Liba Cywja, and Jankel Winawer in 1891. She was 18 and he was 20. His family was from Warsaw, while her family was living in Sobota, a village outside of Łowicz and not far from Żychlin. So at some point, Hil and Hinda moved from Skierniewice to Sobota. I wonder why? I’m told it was common to move from smaller to larger settlements, so why move from a town to a village?

Liba Piwko and Jankel Winawer’s marriage record, 1891

By 1901, when a son, Abram Janas (born in 1877) married Blima Kolska, the Piwko family was listed as living in Brześć Kujawski. Abram and Blima were married in Blima’s hometown of Kłodawa. I found this marriage certificate online; the Poznań archive has digitized these records.

Abram Piwko and Blima Kolska married in Kłodawa in 1901

In the Włocławek archive, I found the Piwkos in the book of residents of Brześć Kujawski. This is my Holy Grail—the thing I’ve been looking for—a document that includes my grandmother. My guide for the day, Tomasz Kawski, a historian who has written about Jews of the area, said, “It’s a miracle [cuda]” I found it. I agree.

Piwkos in the Brześć Kujawski Book of Residents

The document lists Hil Majer, son of Icek and Cywja nee Rajch, born October 26/ November 7, 1854 in Skierniewice, married, townsman, Jewish faith, trader (handlarz), and Hinda Piwko nee Wolfisz, daughter of Nusen and Pesa nee Losman, born August 2/14, 1854 in Żychlin, married, townswoman, Jewish faith, [supported] by her husband. In addition, five daughters are listed: Liba Cywja (b. January 27/February 2, 1874), Ryfka (b. December 20, 1884/ January1, 1885), Hana (b. October 11/23, 1886), Małka (b. December 10, 1895), and Haja (b. January 21/ February 2, 1894). Haja is Halina, my babcia. So I finally know her Jewish name.

The document confirms several details that have been passed down in the family; it also raises new questions:

All the sisters are listed as having been born in Żychlin. Perhaps Hinda returned to her native home to give birth? Or maybe it was just customary to list girls as being born in their mother’s hometown?
There is a note from July 16, 1906 that Ryfka (called Regina on Pat and Pini’s family trees) married Pinkus Kolski and moved to Piątek. The dates don’t correspond exactly to information from other sources which say Pinkus and Ryfka had a son Natan already in 1905. It might just be that the note was added a while after the wedding. Still, why then wasn’t it also noted that Ryfka died giving birth?
According to another note on the page, Małka died in Włocławek on June 7/20, 1912. This fits the story Mom told me about Babcia’s younger sister who committed suicide at age 17. No one knew why, but they suspected it was related to unhappiness in love. My mom was fascinated with her story. Maybe it is because she was named after her (the Christianized family tree lists Małka as Maria Renata). Maybe it is because of my mom’s interest in psychology. She wondered what would have compelled Małka to take her own life. Was her love unrequited? Did her father forbid it? Mom told me that Małka was beautiful, with dark hair and a dark complexion unlike the other girls in the family who were fair. In 2011, when I found Babcia’s family photos in the envelope labeled “Do Not Open,” and showed them to Mama, one of the few ones she recognized was Małka’s (though of course mom called her Maria).
Hana is my auntie Nunia. The document confirms her birth name and birth year, but the birthdate is different—her US records list her birthday as July 21. Similarly, my grandmother’s birthday is different on her US records—July 16. They also changed her birth years, claiming to be four years younger than they actually were, but this was a known secret in the family.

It is not clear from this document when the family moved to Brześć Kujawski. A note by the first three names states they were registered as residents of Skierniewice; it’s dated April 3, 1903. So where were they living at the end of the 19^th and beginning of the 20^th centuries? In Skierniewice, Sobota, or Brześć Kujawski? Or could they have been in Włocławek already? Hil Majer is on the Włocławek voters list in 1907, and his obituary says he died there in 1929. Aunt Pat lists Hinda’s place of death as Włocławek in 1933. All these places are within one hundred miles of each other, more or less in a line headed northwest from Warsaw.

And why aren’t some of the other siblings listed? Jakób, the oldest boy may well have been living on his own already. But what about Sarah who supposedly married Saul Winawer in Brześć Kujawski in 1899? Or Efraim (who changed his name to Philip in the US) who was two years younger than Sarah? Why is there no mention of Rachel? She was born around 1890, between Hana and Haja who are listed. Rachel married Pinchas Kolski after the death of her sister Ryfka, so she should still have been living at home when this record was made. Conversely, why is Liba listed as single and living with her parents? Wasn’t she with her husband, Jankel (Jakub) Winawer, whom she married in 1891 in Sobota?

Of course, I wonder about the records I can’t find. The vital records for Jews of Żychlin and Brześć Kujawski no longer exist. My new Holy Grail would be to find Babcia’s marriage certificates and the birth certificates of my mom and her brothers. Vital records are made public only after 100 years, so some of these might be available through the Civil Registration Office (Urząd Stanu Cywilnego). But do they even exist? Were they destroyed by war, or somehow expunged when Babcia broke ties with her old (Jewish) life and took on her new Christian identity?

[1] According to JewishGen, when two dates appear on vital records, the first refers to the Julian calendar used by the Russians while the second refers to the Gregorian calendar, used in most of Europe.

Family traces in the Business Directory, 1926 and 1930

03 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Archives, Bereda, Family, Kolski, Piwko, Rotblit, Warsaw, Winawer, Włocławek

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Hanna Cytryn, Jakub Rotblit, Lourse, Pinkus Kolski, Stanisław Cytryn

The Business Directory of Poland and Gdańsk (Danzig) from the years 1926 and 1930 are available online. My Mac can’t read the djvu format the documents are in, but fortunately I was able to view them at the university library.

I found some interesting listings—tiny fragments that support bits of information from other sources.

I found a store in Warsaw selling “składy apteczny i perfum,” pharmacy ingredients and perfume. The business is listed under “S. Cytryn,” which was my grandmother’s sister Nunia’s husband’s name. Further, this fits with my mom’s description of Nunia as “something like a pharmacist.” The business was listed again in the 1930 issue. If this is Nunia’s husband Stanisław Cytryn’s business, it supports the family story that she maintained the business on her own after her husband died in 1927. The address listed is Leszno 113.

And here I move deeper into the realm of speculation: According to Google Maps, several apartments blocks sit where this address used to be. This is at the intersection of ul. Młynarska, after which the street takes on a different name, both on historical and contemporary maps. In what is likely a coincidence, a pharmacy, Cefarm, is right across the street at Leszno 38. Could the address numbering have changed? Google Maps doesn’t seem to list street address numbers beyond the 50s. In a map I found at http://warszawa.fotopolska.eu, showing prewar photos, I don’t see any listing for 113, either—in fact, the highest I saw was for #54. Still, a photo taken outside Leszno 43 was inside the Jewish Ghetto, while Google Maps pinpoints #113 about three blocks outside of the ghetto. The photo seems to show a child curled up on the sidewalk (sleeping? Ill? Dead?) being ignored by pedestrians who walk by or grin into the camera; one woman is glancing over her shoulder, but she too might be looking at the photographer and not at the prone child.

Outside Leszno 43, May 1941 in the Warsaw Ghetto (photo from fotopolska.eu)

Other Warsaw listings include the Lourse “fabr. czekolady i cukiernie” (chocolate factory and pastry shops). In 1926 the addresses are Krakowski Przedmieście 13 and Senatorska 23, Teatr Wielki. The comment (dawne Semadeni; formerly Semadeni’s) is in parentheses after the second address. Here are more clues that fit with family stories. As my mom described, one Lourse Café was located in the Europejski Hotel at the corner of Krakowski Przedmieście nearest the Old Town while the other was in the Teatr Wielki. She also described how Papa (her stepfather) was first in business with the “great Semadeni family,” known for their sweet confections since the beginning of the 19^th century. Later, he bought them out. In the 1930 business listing, a third address is added, Leszno 64, the same street as Nunia’s pharmacy.

I also looked for listings for other family surnames—Winawer, Kolski, Piwko, Rotblit—and other towns—Brześć Kujawski, Gdańsk, Skierniewice, Włocławek, Żychlin. I found three entries worth exploring:

In Warsaw H. Winawer is listed in 1930 as “fabr. knotów do lamp,” factory of lamp wicks at ul. Chłodna 43 in Warsaw. Cousin Joan, whose maiden name was Winawer, sent me the following account in November: “My father told me that his parents had a millinery factory. His father “studied” and his mother ran the factory. He had a governess and went to gymnasium. One of his brothers worked in the factory. He never spoke of grandparents. He had very pleasant memories of his childhood. From all the conversations I always got the feeling that there was a great deal of money. If my father’s story was true (not just memories that got changed) there might even be a record of the factory.” This week, she added, “My father would say that he was from Warsaw, but cousin Herbert (Melodie’s father) said that they were really from Lodz. He might have been correct.” While I would like to think the owner of the lamp wick factory is a relative, by 1930 most of the Winawers in the family were in the US. Two of my grandmother’s sisters married Winawers. Liba married Jacob; their sons were Natan (Nusen), Sol (Saloman), Max, and Morris. Sarah married Saul; their sons were Nathan, Milton (Mordko), and Stanley (Samuel). No one had a name starting with “H.” It can’t be Max’s son Herbert because Herbert was born in New York in 1929. So I still need to search for “our” Winawers’ factory; it probably wasn’t this one.

In Włocławek in 1930, Natan Kolski is listed as a seller of “farby,” paint, at ul. 3 Maja 28. Pinkus Kolski is listed as a seller of “farby, szczotki, tapety, i chemiczne prod.,” paint, brushes, wallpaper, and chemical products at ul. Tumska 3. Pinkus is also listed in 1926, though Natan is not. Could this be the husband and son of another of Babcia’s sisters? Regina married Pinkus Kolski, but died giving birth to Natan in 1905. Another sister, Rachel, married Pinkus, adopted Natan, and had four more children including Naftali (Maniek). This branch of the family lived in Włocławek, but moved to Israel. I am visiting Maniek’s son Pini later this month. Pini has written to me that his grandparents lived on ul. Tumska. Pini just got back to me about this:

Yes that is my grandfather; they had a store in Tumska 3 (I was there) but the store was handled by Rachel Piwko Kolski-she was the manager. He was a big business man who imported from Brazil and other places from all over.
Natan Kolski left Poland in 192?? to Israel with his wife and 2 daughters (Sara & Judith ) to run Pinkus Kolski business and lands that he bought in Israel (1912-1938). He was the first son that came to Israel, then Abrash and my father came in 1932.
The house in Tumska 3 in Worzlavek is still there (next to the big Church and the Vistula River).
In the 1930, but not the 1926 Gdańsk listings, under samochody, automobiles, is an ad for Jacob Rotblit’s Ford dealership in Zoppot—the Baltic Coast resort town of Sopot. Sopot is between Gdańsk, which was the free city of Danzig between the world wars, and Gdynia, the industrial city that grew up across the Polish border. I’ve also found ads for this dealership in Gazeta Gdańska from 1935. My mom remembers visiting Rotblit, her biological father, at the Baltic Coast when she was about 13 (so around 1935). Aunt Pat has in her notes that Rotblit sold jewelry, and then automobiles. The business directory listing could well be another sign of my elusive grandfather—the one my mother and her brothers tried to forget.
Rotblit Ford Ad, Gazeta Gdańska 1935

Business Directory of Poland and Danzig 1930: Jacob Rotblit’s Ford Dealership in Sopot

Archives and Ancestors

31 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Archives, Family, Names, Piwko, Skierniewice

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Hiel Majer Piwko, Łódź

I went to Łódź in search of my great grandfather’s birth certificate. It was my first time there. I had heard Łódź is an ugly, dying industrial center, but I was pleasantly surprised to see it is full of attractive 19^th century brownstones. Many are in disrepair, some are in ruins, but others have been renovated and recall the former prosperity of the city. I need to reread Reymont’s Ziemia Obiecana, a novel involving relations among Polish, German, and Jewish cloth manufacturers; as I recall, it provided a snapshot of the business relationships as well as the prejudices among them.

Plac Wolnośći, archive on the right.

The archive is in an old building in Plac Wolności, a circular intersection which, depending where you look, evokes either socialist monumentalism or the bourgeois elegance of the century before. Archives are odd places, and archivists generally seem more comfortable around paper and books than around people. In Łódź the documents I wanted are on microfilm. In other places, I have been fortunate enough to leaf through the original record books. They are large ledgers with thick yellowish paper. Some of the hardbound covers are riddled with insect holes. The handwritten entries can be hard to read—some scribes were neater than others; some added their own unique flourishes.

Still, I hit the jackpot—records from Skierniewice dating from the 1840s-60s. I found Hiel Piwko’s birth certificate and traced his line back two or three more generations. I found out that his father and mother came from smaller towns near Skierniewice, Rawa Mazowiecka and Bolimów. These older records are in Polish, though the handwriting can still be hard to decipher. I learned that my great-great grandfather Josek was a tanner (garbarz). This is consistent with what Aunt Pat has in her notes, but Hiel’s mother is listed with a different name—instead of Lucyna King, she’s Cywia Rajch. I traced back further after getting home, and found reference on JRI (Jewish Records Indexing) to her birth certificate, which lists her as Lieba Cywia Raich. Pat also lists Babcia’s sister Libe Piwko as Lucyna, so that likely explains the first name. Lucyna, Libe, Lieba can easily be versions of the same name. Could King and Rajch be related, too?

The birth records follow a standard pattern. They identify the father, the date he came to the record office, his age, town, and sometimes profession. Next, two witnesses’ names, ages, towns, and sometimes professions are listed. Then comes the name of the mother, her age and town, and finally the sex, birthdate, and name of the child. The witnesses and father sign, along with the clerk. I’ve been paying particular attention to signatures, which are occasionally in Hebrew, but are mostly in Polish.

The language used in these record books mark the political transformations of the 19^th century. After the Uprising in the early 1860s, records in the Russian partition switched to Russian instead of Polish. In Lęczyca (where I went the next day to trace the ancestry of Pinkus Kolski, who married Babcia’s sister), although the records were in Russian, peoples’ names were listed in both Russian and Polish.

I also was able to trace other historical facts about the Piwko line. Great-great grandmother Cywia, Josek Piwko’s first wife, died in 1862 at age 32, just a month after giving birth to a son Dawid. According to Aunt Pat’s records, Cywia (Lucyna) died of cholera (but at age 27). Hiel would have been just 7 years old in 1862. Three years later, Dawid died. Within a year, Josek had another son, Nusen Dawid with a new wife, Sura Burgierman. She was 24 and he was 42.

According to Aunt Pat’s notes, Josek had four wives. I am still looking for mention of the other two. Maybe I’ll find something when I get the Russian language records I collected in Grodzisk Mazowiecki translated.

Hiel Majer Piwko’s birth certificate

28 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Family, Piwko

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Hiel Majer Piwko

In mid-December, I drove across the flat plain from Poznań to the city of Łódź, where I found the birth certificate of my great grandfather, my babcia Halina’s father. So here is one more fragment that connects me to Poland, and to my Jewish heritage. From it, I learn that in Skierniewice on the third/fifteenth of November, 1854, Josek Piwko, tanner, age thirty appeared with two witnesses (I can’t read the first’s name, but he’s listed as a laborer, age forty-five; the second is David Lęczner, szkolnik [teacher?], age fifty-one) to report that he and his wife Cywia (maiden name Raych), age twenty-six, had a son Hiel Majer on the 26^th of October/ 7^th of November.

Hiel Majer Piwko’s birth certificate, 1854

Someone, maybe my great great grandfather? Signed the document in what looks like Hebrew letters. The image quality is poor because I had to photograph the image on a microfilm reader. In other archives I have gotten to page through the actual record books.

Nunia/Hanna/Anna/Maria

20 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by Marysia Galbraith in Family, Names, Piwko

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Hanna Cytryn, Hanna Piwko, Maria Weglinska

Hanna Piwko

I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking about Auntie Nunia today. She was my babcia’s older sister, the only one of her siblings I knew growing up. Nunia was an extraordinary woman, though in a different way than my grandmother. Whereas my grandmother was beautiful, charming, and (to borrow a word from my mom) vivacious, Nunia was a powerhouse of energy, straightforward, and yet at the same time nurturing. From the age of ten or twelve, she was my role model for how I wanted to live my life. It seemed she could do anything, and she was never idle. She knitted our bathmats. My mom would bring her our clothes in need of repair and she would fix them all. She even darned our socks. For years, I wore a robe she made out of a patchwork of hideous fabrics. It had an orangy-yellow lining and trim, and I can’t remember now if the rest was made of scraps of loud upholstery designs or maybe just flower-power prints. I wore that robe for years, and had a hard time giving it up even after I realized I was allergic to it. Instead, I tolerated the runny nose and sneezes.

Auntie Nunia gave my younger brother Chris and me new blankets when I was about five. I think it was to replace the baby blanket that I was having a hard time letting go. Or maybe I just associate it with my blankie’s disappearance because I got it at about the same time. I still have this “big girl” blanket even though the blue calico has split and frayed. Maybe in homage to Nunia’s patchwork robe, I have been patching the blanket with scraps of old fabric and clothing for years. I don’t think I’ll ever catch up with all the new holes that keep forming. I guess sentiment about people and the stuff I associate with them has mattered to me for a long time.

I don’t know much about Nunia’s (or anyone’s) life in Poland. She was several years older than my grandmother, born in 1886 according to Aunt Pat’s records, or in 1889 according to her US naturalization and social security records. I remember Mama mentioning that Nunia and Babcia took a few years off their ages when they emigrated. Nunia’s exact name is also complicated. In the US, her legal name was Maria Weglinska, but her birth name was probably Hanna. I’ve also heard her called Anna, and more recently by our Israeli cousins Hanale. I onced asked my mama what her real name is—even though we called her Nunia (or maybe Niunia), I knew her legal name was Maria and I had also heard her called Anna. I remember being told that she was actually Anna Maria. In retrospect, knowing what I know now, I was probably told something to the effect that she was both Anna and Maria, and I turned it into Anna Maria in my own mind. The origin of Nunia (Niunia) is easier to explain. It is a nickname and expression of affection, sort of like calling someone “sweetie.” Niunia can also be a diminutive of Anna.

So names are not fixed elements attached to people. Nunia’s last name is only slightly less ambiguous. Her maiden name was Piwko, like my grandmother. Her married name was Cytryn after her husband Stanisław Cytryn. At least that would have been the Polish spelling. “Cytryn” means “lemon.” Last year, from looking at the registration cards of Jews who survived World War II at ŻIH (Żydowski Instytut Historyczny, Jewish Historical Institute) in Warsaw, I learned that Nunia was already using the name Maria Weglińska in Poland. It’s listed there, with a note that her means of surviving the war was “Aryan papers.”

Another ambiguity involves the nature of Nunia and her husband’s profession. I have been told she was “something like a pharmacist,” and they had a shop in Warsaw. Somewhere, I’ve seen it listed in Polish as “drogeria” which can be a drugstore, though today it is more commonly a store that sells shampoos, lotions, and cosmetics. A pharmacy is more commonly called “apteka.” Nunia’s husband died in 1927, so from then she ran the business herself.

When Babcia ran away from home, she went to live with Nunia in Warsaw. Maybe that is when their close bond solidified, despite the eight-year difference in their age. By some accounts Babcia left because she wanted to avoid marrying anyone her father chose for her. By others, she wanted to go to university. I imagine, too, that she wanted to be in the capitol city where more was happening. I also suspect it was around the time the youngest sister (and the person my mother was named after) Maria Renata committed suicide at age 17, so around 1913.

I don’t know what they did during World War I, but during World War II Nunia was in the Underground Army. She ran a printing press in the basement of her store. Mom also told a story about being forced to leave Warsaw after the Warsaw Uprising. She walked south with many other civilians and insurgents who were being led to a camp. When I asked how she escaped, she said she and Auntie Nunia just walked away. As she described it, there were so many people and lax security so they were able to just separate themselves and hide in a village. Why was she with her aunt? Where were my grandmother and grandfather? I don’t remember these details. Maybe I didn’t think to ask these questions.

I’ve found a couple of interesting documents for Maria Weglinska on Ancestry.com. The first shows her on the passenger list of the ship “Ile de France” that left LeHavre, France on April 27, 1951 and arrived in New York City on May 3^rd. Under “nationality,” “Polish” is crossed out and she is listed as “stateless.” The other is a US naturalization record dated July 17, 1956 and listing an address in Roslyn Harbor, the same town my grandmother and mother would have been living in at the time. I don’t know what she did between the end of the war and the time she came to the US.

Auntie Nunia/Maria Weglinska

By the time I knew Nunia/Hanna/Anna/Maria, she was living in Norwalk, Connecticut on the second floor of an old house. We visited often, all six of us piling into the car for the 1½ hour trip. We parked on the street. The house was above street level, and a retaining wall of round stones separated the raised lawn from the sidewalk. Inside, a narrow, dark wood staircase led up to Nunia’s place. She always kept hard candies in a covered crystal candy bowl. There and at her daughter Teresa’s were the only places I ever ate Polish food. My mom never cooked it; she said she didn’t like it. Nunia, however, was an amazing cook. I remember the mushroom barley soup and gołąbki (stuffed cabbage) particularly. She also made the most incredible apple strudel with a lattice top. My brothers and cousins all talk about it. It seems we all remember that apple strudel. The memory has faded, but I think the apples were chopped and maybe precooked a bit, like they are in Polish szarlotka. I also picture large granules of sugar sprinkled on top, but I’m not sure about that anymore. Even though we ate ourselves silly while at her apartment, Nunia always packed sandwiches and fruit in paper bags for us to eat on the 1½ hour drive home. Somehow, I always ended up eating something right around the halfway mark on the Throgs Neck Bridge. Often, I fell asleep leaning against my oldest brother Ron’s shoulder.

Once, when I was very young, may be just five or six, I went to stay a few days with Auntie Nunia. I got homesick and started crying so my dad had to drive back and pick me up earlier than planned. And once, when I was maybe eight, Nunia came to our house to take care of us while my mom went to the hospital for an operation. We loved having her there, but she was much stricter than mom. One day, she told me to sweep the living room. I refused, saying Mom never makes me do things like that. So she sent me to my room, saying I should stay there until I decide to sweep. It didn’t take me long to come out and sweep. She didn’t say anything more to me about it.

Both my parents loved Auntie Nunia. My mom said that Nunia was there for her when her own mother abandoned her. This happened at least twice in her life. The first time she was only two or maybe four, and she and her brother George were left with Nunia when Babcia went off with Zygmunt Bereda. Mama remembers being frightened by a swing in the hallway of the apartment. The second time was when Mama was a mother of four young children, and Babcia moved to Puerto Rico. Auntie Nunia stepped in and acted like a mother/grandmother to us. Babcia and my dad didn’t much like each other, but he loved Auntie Nunia. He said she reminded him of his late grandmother, to whom he was very attached.

Nunia showing off her figure at her great-granddaughter Ricky’s wedding. From the left, Teresa (Nunia’s daughter), Babcia, Nunia, and my cousin Alexandra. July 1979, when Nunia was about 93.

Nunia lived alone in that apartment in Norwalk until her early 90s. She would walk every day. She remained slim, explaining that she always leaves something on her plate. Around the time I started high school, Teresa persuaded her to move with her to Florida, but she never liked it there. She died in 1984 shortly before her 98th birthday.

Uncovering Jewish Heritage

Category Archives: Piwko

Włocławek Youth Document Jewish History

Super Kosher Cookies and Sliced Ham

The photo: some reassembled stories

Chil Majer Piwko’s death notices in the Yiddish press

Warsaw archive weekend

The Piwko Saga, Vital Records Version

Family traces in the Business Directory, 1926 and 1930

Archives and Ancestors

Hiel Majer Piwko’s birth certificate

Nunia/Hanna/Anna/Maria