my Irish/Ukrainian connection
My Irish/Ukrainian connection
For most of my life, I’ve had to defend my Ukrainian roots. My Dad was of Ukrainian heritage, and although he could understand the language, he couldn’t speak it. My baba tried to teach me, but I had no interest. She also tried to teach me how to make all of the Ukrainian special dishes, but I didn’t pay attention. How stupid was I? This has haunted me many times since. Thank goodness I learned how to pinch the pierogi just right, so I wasn’t a complete disappointment to my beloved Baba.
I love anything with colour, including my handpicked colourful clothes. My husband used to make fun of my Ukrainian heritage and join in derisive jokes and comments about ‘uke-a-bukes’. I wasn’t amused, and my standard retort was “My mom was Irish and my dad Ukrainian, BUT Ukrainian is the best part of me, and I’m proud of that”.
He is my Ex-husband now, and in my old age, I have come to realize the harm done by giving groups of people labels. Needless to say, I do my best not to tolerate this anymore and have either spoken up or walked away from conversations that go this route.
I’m also proud of my Irish ancestry, but why is it I’ve never had to defend this side of me? My nana had an English accent, but my grampa didn’t. Grampa’s family was from Ireland, but he was born in the States, and his family moved to Canada when he was still a baby. I know nothing about my Irish roots, and that, too, is my fault.
Grampa was not the chatty person anyway; he was always working, and he was the patriarch of the family, whatever that means. Unapproachable, maybe? I wish I knew more, but he is long gone, along with my beloved nana.
Someone just asked me recently if I had relatives in Ukraine. I’ve always wondered that as well, but it’s too late to ask my Baba or even my dad. Why didn’t I pay more attention? Why wait so long to feed my curiosity about my history and roots? Lord knows I wish I had paid attention to my baba’s recipes, all those amazing Ukrainian dishes!
Nana’s cooking was not so much, a steak in her hands was cooked until it didn’t bend, and you needed a hacksaw to cut it. She did show me once how to make gravy, though, adding flour to the frying pan and some water to make a suitable sauce/gravy to hide the top of the tough-as-nails steak or whatever meat she was frying.
It wasn’t until I was in my early twenties that I finally got to appreciate and truly enjoy a medium-rare, delicious piece of heavenly beef. Who knew?
Both cultures came together in my upbringing with my nanas’ English/Irish songs and ditties, doo da, doo da. The sandman sprinkles sand in our eyes at night and takes us to a fairyland. My love of the English fish (cod) and chips wrapped in newspaper and ordered from the authentic fish and chips place in Saskatoon (which is now long gone).
I learned how to seal the little perogy triangles just so… God, how I loved my babas perogies dripping with butter and fried onions. I sneaked and then devoured so many of her jars of dill pickles that it took a few years before I could ever eat dill pickles again. Bortsch and homemade bread and buns, and… everything she made was from scratch and delicious.
My nana plied me with songs and stories of England. She was my secret Santa for a bride’s doll and a doctor’s kit every Christmas. I coveted and got black stretch pants and a special knitted Siwash sweater/jacket, unique to Saskatoon school culture, when I was in high school. I did not go without when my nana was around. I loved her dearly as I did my baba, living with both of them at one time or another.
Yes, I’m Irish, but I’m also Ukrainian, and today I celebrate both. How lucky am I to have such a diverse heritage? I’m also Canadian, and perhaps that is the best part of my life. To be born in Canada is just about the most fortunate thing that could have happened to my children and me.
I’m thankful for what we have, and I pray we find a peaceful end to this ungodly conflict happening right now. I have never been prouder to be Ukrainian/Irish and a Canadian from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. CANADA.
#mythirdlifeblog #lmbl
March 17th, 2022 copyright