THERE WAS LIFE BEFORE THE DIAPER GENIE

click to enlarge baba Hala (1969)


THERE WAS LIFE BEFORE THE DIAPER GENIE... (2006?)

Allow me to address this issue first, and I know that I'm not going to be popular here, but someone has to say it…

The traditional folk costumes that we adore so much at Polish festivals, handmade masterpieces, sometimes carefully passed from one generation to another are often missing one important element: understanding of its symbolism.
If you are a Golden Girl, a happy grandma of 2,4, (5,6…or more cherubs), you need to read this. For others, it's optional.

You know that unwritten "rule" that you're not supposed to wear white after Labor Day? Exchange "white" for a "wreath" and "Labor Day" for "rest of your grownup life." The wreath on a girl's head symbolizes her maidenhood, that she is innocent, you know, I'll spell it out for you, a v i r g i n. So ladies, if you are eligible for a senior discount, keep the shirt, skirt and the embroidered vest, but please lose the wreath! Because either you are trying to prove something impossible, something against the laws of nature, or you are just plain lying to yourself.

Keep the pretty necklace, but let the girls wear a flowery wreath and ribbons. The old folk tradition is that during the wedding ceremony, the bride would wear a wreath made out of herbs from her own garden. At midnight, in the presence of an all-female crowd, her neatly braided hair is cut and the flower wreath is replaced by a cap (czepiec) which is why this ceremony is called oczepiny (capping) Traditionally, the czepiec was made by a bride's godmother. It was a thick and stiff fabric decorated with sewn on silk or dried flowers, sequins and beads, and was way too festive for daily wear. The white handkerchief or scarf was more practical saving the czepiec for Sunday's mass.

So AARP subscribers, you can keep dancing but it is time to pass the wreath on to your granddaughters.

Searching through the TV channels, somewhere between a commercial for a cream promising to leave your skin glowing and a "talking grill" from Playskool, a new profession was introduced to us viewers. It is called a life coach, and I was told that we all supposedly need one. Laura Berman Forgtman who represents this soon to be most desired profession explained, "After 9/11 people don't know what to do with their lives. Feel lost? Need help with coping with every day life? You definitely need a life coach." We need guidance, but the guidance doesn't come cheap.
But don't worry, they give scholarships, so waste no time and apply now. And what's the difference between a regular therapist and a life coach? See, on the comfy couch of your therapist's office you deal with your past and your present. The life coach, on the other hand, takes care of your present and your future. So I guess if you need to find out about the whole you, you need to see both.

How about a consultant whose job is to…protect you from people such as life coaches? And another one that will chose the TV stations for you so you are not exposed to such nonsense? Books on how to live and improve yourself sell more copies than ever. People, what ever happened to common sense?

Visible effects of times changing are reaching other continents as well, my cousin in Poland, who just had a baby, hired a nanny so she can lose some extra pounds. I remember the time when my own daughter was born, some 23 years ago this April. Right away, I moved from Warsaw to the country, so the baby could breathe fresh air and where you grow your own fruits and vegetables. And where you take an early morning stroll to the local farmer to buy fresh milk, which was still warm with cream floating on the surface. Where you could personally thank the cow for sharing this marvelous product At the time the idea of losing weight was…you took care of the baby all day by walking with it attached to your hip, switched hips from time to time. You secured the baby with one hand, while bending, using the other hand to help the "tetra"(cotton) diapers soak in "platki mydlane" (soap flakes). Later, you washed it in a large plastic bowl placed inside my grandparents' custom made ceramic tub (you could wash half a dozen grandkids in it at the same time!). Occasionally you used the famous but ancient washing machine called Frania or Swiatowid (choice of two!) but the washing process was longer and I needed things to be done… fast, so for me it was quicker by hand. Then you carried a heavy load of clean diapers, walked to the clothes line that was spread out between pine trees (for fun, you could coordinate plastic cloth pins by color!), and you came back …two pounds lighter.

Bending over that tub made your waistline slim enough to make Liz Taylor foam with envy. And if you took your baby in a stroller for an afternoon walk and lose some more, that's a bonus! These days, on hand are disposable diapers, washer and dryer in one, a nanny and then a preschool group with English as a second language. And if the baby misses his mom, he /she can always SMS her with a message: "I love you, are you still there for me?" In those good old days fresh diapers smelled like pine trees…
Only last year I found out that in my area, here in West Brookfield, there was an environmentally friendly diaper service. I wished I knew it earlier; I could use it when my son was born but the company did not advertise and kept a small group of customers. The company name, like a well-kept tradition, passed on from one generation to the next.

That baby girl of mine, literally grew up with dogs, shared food with them, sometimes a blanket, and swallowed some cat hair occasionally. The bread crust that we used in Poland instead of a teether, when chewed came out between her fingers and always attracted a "pack of dogs" that followed her around. Grandma, in this small town still called "Pani doktorowa"(doctor's wife) to us ..Baba - Hala, I guess knew something when she told me, joyfully to "let her be, she'll be fine."

Dogs were something that we had plenty of. German Shepards and their mixes came from the era when Grandpa received puppies from his patients who had no money to pay, others belonged to my mom (a hairy little ball called ABBA) My uncle had a cocker spaniel, Fredzio, also a city dog, who came regularly in the summer to socialize with other dogs and for weight loss treatment. Yeah, some used grandma's estate as a spa or weight loss camp for the 4-legged. And if one dog had fleas, they all had fleas, but what are oak leaves for?
There were other dogs that came for different reasons as well as kids who belonged to family friends or co-workers. Therapy camp, you may call it, since some kids were tossed in there because their parents were in the middle of a divorce battle or something like that. We took them all in. My aunt Kasia sometimes brought local kids from neighboring towns. One time, she brought a little girl who belonged to an unmarried mother, a young woman who lived with her very old grandpa in a one room cottage. She wanted to go back to school. Kasia took in that toddler and my cousins and I washed her, fed her and played with her as if she were a doll. The most important thing was that we talked to her so she developed some language skills and stopped answering our questions with only the word "no."

I'd be lying if I said that it was all done unselfishly. Since those people were farmers, sometimes they rewarded us by letting our bunch to their strawberry fields so we could pick for our own pleasure. When the farmers picked enough fruit to make a good profit, whatever was left was "please, help yourself." We explored their barns and looked for kittens buried in hay.

As for mosquitoes? The aroma of Vitamin B, thinly spread on uncovered parts of your body, prevented them from getting near us.

Grandma made rhubarb pancakes with powdered sugar, and at the time my favorite dish was sorrel soup with hardboiled eggs. And only one person knew how to find sorrel on banks of the Wilga River. It was my uncle Maciek, and that special talent made him awfully valuable to all of us. Another was mixing cream for cakes in an era where most home made dishes were prepared by hand; he was the "human blender." On a hot day, chilled and thick sour milk (kept on the top of the fridge with plate over it) with potatoes and dill was a consolation.

The eggs came from Mrs. Sentkowska's chicken coop, this lovely lady, our neighbor, and a widow who lived in a house covered on two sides with grapevines. She lived in this town a little longer than my grandparents, and there is a legend that it was in her house that one of my grandparents' children was conceived. But the two old ladies shared something else; both had children who during the epidemic contracted polio.
She gave us eggs and all she asked for in return was to save the eggshells so she could feed her chickens with them. And I call IT recycling!
Eggs came in handy for her famous "ajerkoniak," a spiked eggnog, which on lazy afternoons she occasionally brought for tasting.

But the "it" drink was "podpiwek," a non-alcoholic dark beer. You made it from an extract (hops & syrup), simmered with sugar, and when cooled you just needed to add yeast. Then you would pour it into those old fashioned green and brown bottles with a wire lock. Left in a dark and cool pantry, neatly stocked on pantry's shelves for (agonizing!) 3-5 days. And when the right moment came, grandma would check on how many of those bottles actually exploded and how many were still good (we counted the good ones with a sigh of relief) and I swear, there was nothing better than this on a hot summer day!

Two men, Mr. Mroczek and Mr. Bugalski, who understandably had a little competition going on, provided the fruits and vegetables that we did not grow. I brought my baby daughter to meet them at the gate, just like my grandma did when we were children. Men often raced and whoever got there first shyly asked if the other was already there before him, and grandma as always gave both a negative answer. When either of their cart arrived, skinny Mr Mroczek or chubby faced Mr. Bugalski pulled off the plaid and revealed wooden cases with apples, plums, pears, waxed beans, potatoes, cauliflower, cucumbers, sunflower heads etc, bees attracted by sweetness buzzed around. We, the kids, of course paid more attention to the horse than to the produce and in the meantime, grandma and Mr. Mroczek had a chance to catch up on gossip.

And what gave away, to either man, the presence of the competing seller was his horse's droppings left in the middle of the road.
My grandma passed away last September, and I believe that Mr. Mroczek and Mr. Bugalski died some time before her. She joined grandpa and is also in the company of Mrs. Sentkowska, sipping ajerkoniak made of eggs from heavenly hens.

A couple more things: back then we did not have a baby monitor in every room, but "extremely smart dogs" that barked when the baby in the carriage was crying in discomfort. My kids grew up without a "blankie", a soft blanket to sleep with, to drag behind everywhere to feel secure, simply because I did not know that they needed one. And they both ate the bread crust, because they did not know there was an option not to eat it. They were both accustomed to the civilized way of using the toilet at age …1 ½ years old and never ordered from the kids menu at restaurants, …and I can assure you they turned out ok.

I won't brag to my kids about my fun childhood again but when one of them one day, for their own kids, gets one of those must-have devices like the "diaper Genie" (thermos-like plastic tower with 30 dirty diapers condensed inside it that "decorates" the baby's room),

I promise, I will start all over again.