Celebrating My Dedo

Today would have been my Dedo's 119th birthday.  I called him Gedo.  Either way, he was my grandpa.  He and my Baba were my strongest connection to my Ukrainian roots.  Only, my Baba was plagued with health problems most of her adult life and died at 57 when I was 3.  I only remember what has been told to me,, but I know she was quite the woman.  At a time when men were the sole bread earners and women stayed at home and obeyed their man, my grandma ruled her roost.

I always thought my grandpa immigrated from the Ukraine when he was a small child.  It turns out that he immigrated when he was 20.  Either way, my grandfather never had any formal schooling.  He obtained employment in rural Saskatchewan with the CP Rail.  My mother said it was a grueling job and he had to walk the line several times a day in all weather. 

My grandpa rarely talked about growing up in the Ukraine other than it was a very hard life, and they learned to make do with almost nothing.  I don't recall him complaining, I recall him having more self-discipline than anyone I have ever known.

It is no coincidence to me that his birthday was on income tax day.  As I said, he was insecure about not having schooling so he learned as much as he could.  He could do 3 column multiplication in his head.  Yes, I would test him with a calculator.  I was too young to know about gambling, but I'm sure he would have been able to count cards! 

My grandpa had the biggest garden that he could possibly ever have.  Potatoes, onions, turnips, beets.  Maybe a few carrots.  I can't really remember.  Root vegetables.  He had grew onions the size of a human head.  His fertilizer was the rinse water from his washing machine which contained bleach.  He called us twice a week before 8 am and talked for less than a minute.  In his retirement, he used to get up, walk to the OK grocery and then go to the pool hall.  He would play one game of pool for $.25 but sit and visit with the others who were doing the same.  In the afternoon, he would do his chores.  He would make his own perogies.  He never bought a fresh loaf of bread in his life and would always buy day old bread because it was reduced in price.  He was incredibly frugal. He basically used his car once a week when he went to his wife's grave.  He would have a drink, but only when he was with company. 

As frugal as he was, I had him wrapped around my little finger.  If I wanted something, I would get it.  He gave me a savings bond for each grade I passed which paid for my post-secondary education.  He never complained or felt that he was sacrificing anything.  He was always generous with his love. 

So, that is my connection to my ethnicity.  \Ukrainians lived in harsh conditions in land that didn't produce much.  They made do with what they had.  They didn't want any more than they had.  They lived hard existences, but no one told them that.  They were always as happy as my grandpa because they surrounded themselves with people they loved.  They always had a good time and ready smiles and lots of laughter.  They never felt like they were sacrificing.  I have Ukrainian relatives who have been very successful monetarily but they were all the same, happiest when with family and having a simple meal that included a fried onion. 

That's the Ukrainian I try to be.  Simple life.  Grateful.  Blessed.  Thankful.