THE BOOK IS WRITTEN CONTINUOUSLY. I PLACE ANOTHER MATERIALS ON THE CURRENTLY.

Message in the bottle

What am I writing for?

Always for the same purpose. I put my thoughts on paper – believing that they can help someone, that I will give them something from myself.

Perhaps I will make it easier for someone to find a solution to the problem they are currently facing. Perhaps someone will organize their life better thanks to this. Perhaps someone will understand something better. And even if he doesn’t agree with me – maybe he’ll just look at things differently. Perhaps this will result in another thought – not mine, not his – but a third – even better, … more perfect. Because it is not the author that is important, but the good that is created thanks to it.

I once had a friend in high school. His brother studied at the Gdynia Maritime University. It was something very exotic for me back then. There is a young man in the middle of Silesia who does something like that. He went on long cruises on training sailing ships. I have seen photos of him, even from distant Australia.

I remember his gala uniform hanging on a hanger, hooked to the wardrobe door. I have not seen anything like this live yet – only on TV. A real sailor’s uniform.

He would be at their home once in a long time and then set sail again.

A friend told me about how his brother grew up and lived what he wanted to do someday. He always wanted to sail.

This brother had another friend with whom they played sailors as a child. They sent each other information in the walrus alphabet – turning off and on the light in the room, in the night. From one house to another.

The other one lived nearby and they saw their lights – like a lighthouse and a ship, or two ships …..

Surely their imaginations added to the rest. They could imagine the enormous masses of water beneath them …. and the night …. and the storm ….. waves and wind.

Once all this was to become a reality for them, although back then it was only a youthful game.
This is how they started, and then they both went to the same Academy and sailed on different ships, under different shipowners.

I saw this seaman brother only once. Young, brave, athletic and ready for anything. It made an impression on me. Only once did I see his uniform and the cap of the Maritime Academy – which he put on the table. It was then that he came to visit his parents.

I wonder where he is sailing now ….?

I was reminded of this story while writing this text.

This sailor brother once fished a bottle out of the sea. A bottle with the text inside. I have seen it with my own eyes – and I have seen this text. Some Dutchman wrote it, hoping that someone would find it someday. The text was very personal, written in English. The man also gave his address. Can you imagine that ? Finding such a bottle is like finding a needle in a haystack.

The seaman’s brother wrote him a letter …… and they met later.

This is the story.

What is the conclusion of it?

That what we do always makes sense. Whether someone notices it or not, that’s not the point. The important thing is that we follow it.

I like these nautical comparisons. Comparison of life to shipping. Now I compare my texts to short letters in bottles.
I throw them into the ocean of the internet …..

I know that if I ever found such texts myself – they would be helpful for me. My thoughts would lighten. They translated many things. I believe it …. and that’s why I do it.

I’ve been writing stuff for a long time, but not that way. Loose cards, computer files, unprinted pages of documents, etc. I threw them into plastic bags and they were there somewhere.

When I started my adventure with writing on the Internet – I told a few words about an Irish poet. I know so much about him that he was blind. But he could write. So he probably saw before. He wrote his texts on loose sheets … and then he would go outside and throw them to the wind …..

There was so much he could do. He did what he felt he should.

It was in him and he expressed it. He did not know that most of the pages ended the story somewhere on a nearby fence or in a puddle. However, he continued writing because he felt inside himself that this was his way.
And yes, someone read one of these pages. And so we know that such a person existed, and we also know what he felt and what he thought.

It was worth it, though – even for one man.

Each of us is for something.

I put my bottles on the internet – and they go there. Some will crash into rocks, others will sink, ….but maybe some others will survive. They will drift in the waves there – on different servers in the world. There is no time limit here.

Of all human works – those feelings and thoughts, put together into words – have lasted the longest.

I never meant popularity or recognition – that’s not me. Anyway, I do not have it and I feel good about it. However, it happened to me a few times that someone suspected me of such motives – but quickly found out that this was not the case. If I did it for popularity or originality – I would call myself an idiot. I would only waste my time and contradict myself.

It also happened to me that someone was distancing himself from me when he found out that I was writing something. I don’t know why, but it has happened several times. Someone else made malicious comments. I rather get feedback like this.

I throw my letters overboard in bottles – and I don’t really know if anyone is reading it. I don’t run any statistics, I don’t use Google Analytics, I don’t care about keywords and I don’t learn Content Marketing. I only focus on one thing – the content and truthfulness of what I think and feel. And that suits me.

If what I do is worth someone – my lyrics will survive. If not – they will be lost. And that’s how it should be.

Of course, I do a few other things in my life – also important to me. However, writing is one of the crucial points.

I read myself – and I understand myself better. It’s worth a try. It is not the same as just thinking it or just saying it. You can come back to it someday ….. and meet with yourself from some time ago. It teaches a lot.

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about some words that I found in one of the books. It was said there that life makes a lot of sense when we do something for others. When our philosophy changes from „ME” to „WE”.

Tomorrow I will throw another bottle in the ocean again. Meanwhile – Good Night.

Jaroslaw (JARO) Makosz

***

Little Woman

About a year ago (it was also April) – I went for a walk in my home area. I visited my parents, and as the day was sunny, the walk was exceptionally pleasant.

I went to our primary school. Little has changed there. Only some outdoor exercise equipment was added – right next to two football fields. I climbed onto one of these equipment and started swaying. I was slowly remembering various nice moments related to this school. It was really a lot. Here, many of my friends used to live in nearby houses. And probably many people still live here somewhere, even though it’s been 40 years. Few – like me, left here somewhere further. Somehow it is that the next generation doesn’t want to be too far away. Even those who for some reason, for example, go overseas – then miss it and come back. They make peace with those with whom they had more difficult relationships and begin to understand more. They feel some need to better understand their history and what made them.

From the place where I was doing the exercises – lightly and without any special effort – I could also see our physics class, ….. my favorite subject. It was physics that explained the world to me. Physics has dealt with infinitely great things – from planets to atoms. From magnetic fields to gravity …… And from physics it was only a step away from philosophy. Actually, on some level – one smoothly flows into the other ….

I watched the sun just above the classroom on the top floor. It was full, yellow, already so warm in spring. Its light dazzled me. Blissful moment …..

I looked down. Through the sunlight, I saw slow motion against the wall. It turned out that a young boy was walking along it, by the windows of the school. His neglected hairstyle and old clothes attracted attention. He paced back and forth somehow. I think he was saying something to himself. Then again as if he was touching something with his finger on the wall and he was walking, clearly aimlessly …

That hair … He had a large, dark mop of hair. His hair was spinning in huge locks. I wonder when he was at the hairdresser? The fall jacket he wore was his father’s cut, I think. Who is wearing such today? I think he may have been 13-14 years old.

Adolescents his age play with their mobiles when they are alone. They almost always write and view something there. They seem absent. Well, unless you say something to them – then they come back from virtual to real. At least for a moment.

He, too, was absent, though he did not have a mobile. He probably couldn’t afford it. Probably no one would even buy it for him. I imagine what it is like today when you don’t have a smartphone at his age? Parents already push their children a wild rush to compete, possess and brag about what they have. I have such a model, and I have a better one, and I do not stick with those, because they do not have an iPhone. At this age, you can feel really rejected without having that kind of crap. You’re worth as much as your cell phone. You could put it that way.

You have to be a really well-built human being – and from an early age, not to succumb to such stupid competition. Anyway, with age – most people don’t get very wise. Then they race on other gadgets. It’s time for computers, then cars, homes, trips abroad and everything else. As if it would fill life … or fill their gaps … It never impressed me. I have never competed in a race. In a way – like him, but by choice.

…..

The boy continued walking slowly – a few steps forward and a few steps back. His head was bowed and he was muttering to himself.

It was a festive day – off work. Why is he here right now?

……I know why. He wanted to hide, …. to hide. He felt safer here. Hardly anyone passes here. In this shade of a low wall – he blended into the surroundings. Nobody here pays attention to him. These are his intimate moments. Children from school do not come here at this time on public holidays. Nobody bothers him. Nobody is making fun of him …… He’s alone.

– Is it possible to do something for such children? – I wonder. Can I do something?

I feel sorry for him. Looking at this picture – I ask myself – „What if he was my son …..?”.

I would like to give him as much self-confidence and will to study and work as possible. I would like to help him shape a world of values ​​based on these principles. Above all, however, such children need care and concern. This is a complex and, unfortunately, still current problem.

……

And now it has hit me, unexpectedly – some memory about the same place, about 40 years ago ……

I am probably in the 6th grade of primary school. It’s a warm day – just like today. Our physics teacher notices that one of our friends is sitting on the bench, in front of the school (the one right between me and the boy I write about above). He is sitting and smoking a cigarette – staring at the classroom windows. At the same time, he closes his eyes, because of the sunlight.

There is something of an old man in him, come still not even stopped being a child. He is wearing an old, shabby jacket. Who would wear such a jacket ? – …. my grandparents’ generation. He had this and an old zipped bag with two handles. We had satchels and backpacks. As I remember, his bag did not close, because the zipper was damaged. He probably had shoes from someone else, maybe from the wedding. They were dusty, but originally glossy. This is what they looked like. I had sporty, light, … modern ones.

He was sitting there then, and he looked 10 years older than us.

He also had a brother who also went his own way. This brother hardly ever said anything. He was quiet and calm. When the teachers took him to answer, he only stood with his head down forever and his hands in his pockets. He did not know the answers to the questions asked of him. He just nodded his head occasionally. He wanted him to be left alone as soon as possible. It was all he wanted. The teachers, pissed off about those hands in his pockets – told him to take them out immediately. So he reluctantly took them out.

But those hands in his pockets were like his last point of honor and human pride. Like the last bastion of independence from the world and some kind of dignity … own identity. It’s hard to explain, but that’s what I saw in this gesture. When he put his hands in his pockets, it was as if he were telling them all silently:

– There’s nothing you can do to me. I am above all that you do here. I am independent of you.

He was in a world he had to be in – though he clearly didn’t want to be. Besides, when he had his hands in his pockets, you couldn’t see how short the sleeves of his sweater were. He always wore the same sweater. Much too small, a little childish. But when he stood silently next to the desk of other teachers, waiting for the word „Sit down” – there was some secret power in him. While his older brother seemed to be reconciled with the fate of a child from a difficult environment and was rather sad – this brother was more like a compressed spring. It was evident that he was strong and very physically fit. He was totally to the side, but none of the guys even thought of harassing this quiet individualist. They felt some inexplicable respect before him.

I also remember that one of the teachers told him to put out his hands to hit him on them with a ruler. However, it did not make any impression on him. Then he slowly lowered the sleeves of his oversized sweater. I think he knew a much more serious beating. The teacher finally gave up and told him to come back to his place. Then this boy didn’t come to school for the next few days. He did it more than once. I think someone from school was visiting their house and then came back for a few days. ,,,,,,,, and so on.

Both brothers were repeating the same grade for the second year. They also repeated the previous ones. The teachers clearly stated that there was little that could be done and put a cross on them. If only they would finish this school and go to work. What awaited them – go down, …underground – to our mine, ….probably. Most likely to do the worst and most dangerous jobs. There were several more such children in our school.

…..

But back to that moment when the teacher notices the older brother sitting on the bench. I remember it well …. Visibly moved, she opens the window and calls out to him gently.

– Come to us !

…..Silence…… He didn’t even flinch.

– Come on ….. please, she repeated.

He just nodded slightly that he didn’t. Then he took a drag on the cigarette, exhaled it through his nose, and lowered his head slowly.

– Come. You won’t have to do anything … just sit with us. You’ll be in class and I won’t ask you anything. I promise – come on!

She said it very convincingly. I don’t think his own mother would have said it better and more tenderly at that moment than she did.

He, however, continued to sit still. It seemed like he didn’t give a shit about it.

The physicist became visibly sad ………….and closed the window.

……

We went back to classes ….

Then she told us something about an electrostatic machine. She talked about it with such passion and such fascination with the subject that I really felt her passion. As always, ……. from the very first lesson – as soon as she came to our school. Sometimes she also took her little daughter to lessons, because she obviously had nowhere to leave her. So this little girl has become an indispensable part of the great physical landscape.

Once, this very teacher took us to the Silesian Planetarium. We watched with excitement the miraculous projections of sunrise and sunset, stories about the constellations and the history of the galaxy. Objects of this class, what our planetarium – are not have many in the world. We had one – and so close. The fact that she took us there then and the fact that she told us about various things long after the performance – made some of us, even uninterested in physics, like started to like it.

Then, in high school, I took part in the Astronomy Olympics. Together with a friend, we wrote a fairly extensive work on the conquest of the moon. There would not be this and many other things in my life if it were not for those stories of our teacher.

We also never felt any fear of answering her questions during the lesson. Through her intelligent way of asking us questions, she made us create physical patterns in front of our eyes instead of learning them. She said, for example

– What if the path traveled by the object is longer at the same time? Will the speed be greater or less?

– Greater – we replied in chorus.

– So the symbol of the path (s) will be in the numerator or denominator – if it is directly proportional ?

– Numerator –  were the answers again

– And what will be in the denominator as inversely proportional?

– Time – we replied excitedly

– See how simple it is? – she said on such occasions …… She was a very smart person.

The speed formula was on the board. We created it.

– Now look at the book, she said.

– It’s the same,” said someone in amazement ….

– Exactly – she commented. Because that’s how the world works. Based on certain laws. Whatever you do in your life, now you will remember this pattern for the rest of your life, because you understand it.

She was right.

It was similar with other formulas and laws of physics. There were many ideas on how to make us feel this subject. Such people are rarely met.

She was only in our school for that one year. She appeared and flew away – like the comets she had talked about sometimes. But it was worth waiting for someone like that. If only for a moment.

My – and I think not only my respect for great science – then flared up incredibly. Every effort, even the smallest one, will bear fruit one day. The time will come. Nothing we got that was good is wasted. Even the smallest thing will be remembered. For some, sometimes the tiniest things are the only ones they had.

Also, never doom anyone to loss., Each of us has an extraordinary element. One and unique.

………

Oh, …. and one more thing. At the end of that lesson. Almost at the end, just before the bell rang – the door slowly opened. Everyone turned to see who was coming in.

He was standing in the doorway. In his oversized jacket and bag, with a broken zipper. He was a bit embarrassed, but also clearly smiling.

– Come to us … and have a seat. There is a place for you – our good physics teacher said happily. ……..Our comet Halley.

 

PS

And if someone wants to move in your imagination into the infinite spaces of physics – please. Mood, like from the Silesian Planetarium.

Madis – Sea of Tranquility (Ambient Edit) | Melodic Ambient Music 2020 – YouTube

 

***

DREAM BIG 

Today I was walking near a bank with books on a small shelf – right next to a wide comfortable armchair. There was also a nice table and a warm, pleasant light that fell on table top. The evening was slightly rainy and you would like to go inside and read a little over a cup of warm grain coffee (something I like sometimes in the evenings).

A figure we all know is looking at me from the shelf. It is impossible not to recognize it. The man who founded Apple Inc.

Steve Jobs, of course.

Much has been written about him because he was special. At the same time, he was extremely diligent. He was able to recover from the most difficult situations. He had a difficult childhood and experienced many unpleasantries in his life. But he believed that he had something important to do … and that was what drove him.

Together with his colleague – Steve Wozniak – they created the first, affordable home computer. It is thanks to them that computers found their way to our homes. Previously, they were only used in large companies and were completely unavailable. It was a revolution! The world of electronics has changed once and for all.

The Apple company they created – became more and more successful. Incredible as it sounds, at one point in his life he was deprived of a job at his own company. Apple fired Steve Jobs!

Even then, starting from scratch – he was able to create another visionary enterprise – Pixar studio, which we know, among others from movies like Toy Story. Who doesn’t know a desk lamp that jumps over the table top and turns towards the viewer like a living figure. Yes – this is the Pixar.

A Day In the Life of Pixar Animation Studios | Pixar – YouTube

The film studio prospered very well, and here too, the productions under Jobs’ management were distinguished by his  visionary quality. They stood a great distance from everything that was done at that time. The use of computer technologies made it possible to create worlds that no one knew about until then. It was a new quality of animated films. They were ahead of an epoch by this.

I would like to add that the beginnings of Pixar were based on the Lucasfilm studio – this is Georg Lucas, the creator of Star Wars. Lucas is another visionary that I would also like to write a few words about. I grew up on his movies. On him and on Steven Spielberg. My entire generation grew up on them.

As for Jobs – Pixar studio took over the Walt Disney Company – and Jobs returned to his parent company Apple (he was asked to do so), working for the proverbial dollar in the contract! Apple began to get into financial trouble without Jobs. When he returned, the situation began to change dramatically in favor of this company. However, Apple could not exist without Jobs. It was he who was the key element of this company. This shows how incredible a visionary and strong mind he was. This story especially arouses my admiration for this man.

Some time ago I found one of Steve Jobs’ speeches. It was at Stanford University. He spoke to the students, briefly telling the story of his life and his motivation to work. This speech has gone down in history and continues to inspire many today. It is spoken by a man of great inner strength. Someone for whom money wasn’t important in what he was doing. He was a visionary and he was able to turn visions into reality. The products he introduced to the market were of exceptional quality and functionality. He took care of the details and did not finish the work until the work he was thinking about reached the form that had been in his imagination from the beginning. He employed the best engineers and was able to motivate them.

Once I met a man who I could boldly call Polish Steve Jobs. His name is Zbigniew Fidelus. He is the founder and owner of a large group of companies called Fideltronik. He designs and manufactures electronic boards for the world’s largest customers. Even the broadcast cars of the US presidential campaigns had accessories designed by the Fideltronik company. A great number of ships sailing under different flags have electronic devices of their construction on board. He works with the largest consumers of electronics in the world.

Fideltronik is also a company that was one of the first in Europe to be included in the program of Oracle Corporation – next to SAP from Germany, one of the two largest ERP class systems in the world. Fideltronik was awarded the title of Oracle Golden Partner.

Fideltronik is present on many markets – including medical, automotive, telecommunications and many others. I remember the beginnings of this company and I know how much Zbigniew Fidelus and his sons and associates have achieved so far. It breeds my respect. And what’s special about all of this is the way he approaches engineers. He is someone who releases their potential in these people, creates an environment for their development. They become co-creators of the great process. Engineering becomes an art there. One of the foundations of his success has always been the selection of the right people.

We used to cooperate with each other and I am glad that I had the opportunity to meet this man.

Meanwhile, here’s a link to Steve Jobs’ speech from Stanford – it’s really worth listening to.

 

***

 

„4 LETTERS”

PS.

To explain something to you. When in Poland you say that it is about 4 letters – it is about the word „DUPA” (ASS)…

 

Fate has not given everyone equal. Each of us has our own inner Mount Everest. Should we compare others to ourselves – and ourselves to others?
Or maybe we are more like swimmers who follow their own track – each independently. We only take air and wave our arms, giving our best.

And whether we give just everything, it is in our honesty – only we and the Good God know.

What does it matter if someone is ahead of us or behind us? We know ourselves whether we can do better or just cheat – others first, and really ourselves at the end – wasting our own potential. How many people waste it like this, on their own request?

We really only have one thing to do in life – be human. Everything else is by the way.

When I was ten, I met a boy who would sometimes come to the garden in front of my grandfather’s. He clearly came from a poor family where there were some problems. Probably alcohol. He was poorly dressed. He wasn’t speaking too clearly either. We talked sometimes. There was an extraordinary joy of life in him and a need for contact too, some ……acceptance. Speaking – he was still smiling at the same time, looking at me carefully and impatiently.

I listened to his rather childish stories.

I heard from someone that he goes to „9” (Special School No. 9). Whenever someone wanted to cut someone to the bone, he would tell him that he was Down or that he was from „the Nine”.

So I knew the boy from „Nine”. The very fact that I spoke to him caused smirks at a few of my mates, who sometimes smoked cigarettes on a nearby bench.

I also remember that he came from Komunki (Komuny Paryskiej Street – for years one of the poorest streets in Siemianowice ŚL. – my city).

Once, very excited, he called to show me what he wrote with a stone on the garage wall. He really wanted me to see it immediately. I went with him. We finally reached the red wall of the garage.

He proudly showed me with his index finger – a small inscription. It was a lopsided word … composed of four very unequal letters. Children write so unevenly in the first weeks of primary school. Meanwhile, he was a year older than me. So he was eleven. I was already reading Alfred Szklarski’s books, comics … and Tigers.

There was a strange silence. I still remember that moment well today.

My friend was looking at me, smiling broadly. I remember his blonde hair and merry blue eyes that were now nervously waiting for my final verdict.

And I didn’t know … what to say. I didn’t know what to do ….. I just stood ashamed.

– Cool -……. I said finally softly.

I felt tears slowly coming to my eyes. I didn’t want him to see it. So I lowered my head a little.

On the wall he wrote the word … „MAMA”.

 

 

***

 

„SMALL TOWN BOYS” …a little about us and ADAM IMIOLCZYK – my friend

 

Small Town Boy – Who doesn’t know this track…. ?? Just………

For me, however, it will always be associated with the memory of a man from whom I learned a lot ……and who passed away ……. too early.

Today’s text will not be pastel, but it will be important, because every person I meet in my life is important to me. It will be a short reminiscence of a friend from the High School of Huta Jedność in Siemianowice Śląskie. A school that I really enjoyed going to – although it may seem strange ……. School, how? Yes – I loved this school. Seriously…

Adam was leaning against the wall, with Walkman headphones on his ears (such a small tape recorder – today’s MP3 player  – if someone did not know). His eyes were closed and he was rocking slightly from side to side. He sang the lyrics of the song. He produced impossibly high notes – almost falsetto. I knew this piece very well – everyone knew it, so I didn’t have to ask him – what he was listening to.

It happened again and again in every spare moment between lessons. He didn’t part with the Walkman …… for a good three months anyway. Unbelievable. I’ve never seen anyone love one song so much. He knew every word, every modulation of Jimmy Somerville’s voice by heart. He sang it at the slightest opportunity. I myself have listened to thousands of hours of various music, but I have never become so fixated on one track. When I loved something – I listened to it a few or a dozen times in a row, eg. Then there was a break and I came back to it again. If I have loved a song in the past – I love it today. Nothing has changed. I am very steady in what I love. What caught Adam, however, was absolutely remarkable. He was living the Small Town Boy all the time. What magic engulfed him?

We sat in one bench in Polish language class – in the place, by the window. There was always so much joy and energy in his smile – he infected it right away. He had bold ideas and was not afraid to talk about it.

There was an unparalleled 'drill’ in the school. Discipline was raised high. We wore identical navy blue suits, blue shirts, navy blue ties and during body workout……. white socks . For the lack of such socks in PE – you ran barefoot as a punishment. After such an experience and laughter of colleagues – you never forgot any more. Adam wore such socks not only during PE, but all the time. He also wore perfectly white sneakers (today not everyone knows what it is – simple sports shoes). We also had to wear such sneakers during PE. But he wore them all the time, also with his suit. He liked it. They were always clean and tidy. It was his hallmark from afar.

We treated physical culture very seriously. We had cardio exercises, gymnastic rings, bars, etc. etc. We had to wear the same tank tops with shoulder straps – as before the war. When someone was doing, for example, quantity push-ups – everyone was sitting in the gym and counting how much he would do. It gave a hard time to someone who could not cope. This was going on the psyche – everybody had to pull quickly to the average. Another exercise on wheels, in the air, is holding your legs at a 90-degree angle and counting the amount of time until you drop your legs. The abdominal muscles must then be really made of steel. Today I know that it was not all about exercise itself. They taught us to work on ourselves. It was a school of perseverance and character.

Besides, care was taken not only about our efficiency. We had many other extracurricular activities, such as computer science or „meetings with the philharmonic hall”. The Silesian Philharmonic came to us with concerts once a month. A well-known radio presenter always gave the introductory words. We got to know things we had never dreamed of. The headmaster of this school – Hilary Chlebek – was a real visionary. A well-known scoutmaster with traditions. In addition, the staff with which he surrounded himself – was also great. We were very lucky to be there. The director wanted our school to be competitive with the Silesian Technical Research Institutes. I would not trade it for SWTZN – oh no.

It was also a time of great laughter – from the first to the last day we pissed right out of laughter, … with a few breaks of course. I have never laughed so much before or later. There I was laughing to tears. My friends were really special. Two of them with talent go straight to the cabaret. As one of them said, „our level of satire is high.” It would be a topic for a separate story – for sure.

But I cannot resist one story to tell – namely the battles in the dining room. We sat politely for, for example 2-3 classes at tables. Older scouts were on duty and looked after us like the gendarmes. They knew that this bunch of testosterone-laden creatures could explode at any moment. And it will almost certainly explode. The only question is when? It was enough for one another to throw a piece of cheese into a mug of tea – and the one was from a different class.

There was silence for a moment – and then the mess began. The staff on duty quickly closed the window from the shop, because the first cheeses, pates, and brawn were all flying in their direction (the smelter provided us with breakfast). Someone got a central pate in the face, someone was rolled in smoked fish. Another cried because he got hard cheese in the eye. Almost no one wore a shirt in their pants anymore because one was tugging on the other. There was one big turmoil and the scouts tried to control it. You had to see it with your own eyes ….. Just Western Story ..

This sort of thing happened almost every day. It was never boring.

We also had our dreams. Everyone else. We shared them sometimes. For example, I wanted to become an electronic musician. I also wrote various short stories. Sometimes I played them – such a game of acting. I mimicked the performance of various actors from fragments of theater plays I had watched on Monday’s television theater or from films. I was doing it for fun, and I didn’t really know what to do with it. Acting itself – I wasn’t really drawn to it. I didn’t really want to pretend to be someone else. Usually I tried to amuse someone with this, and I was successful. I could observe people and situations. I tried to understand both and get into it. I treated it as an interesting experience – and that’s it. I did not know yet where I was going in life. It was too early for that. You have to mature for everything in life. Until then, I wanted to be like JMJ (Jean Michel Jarre). This is one of the reasons why I chose the electronic high school. I was building various playing generators etc.

It’s also interesting … that since then I never played „acting” again, but it was a trait that I discovered by accident. Somehow, I could play other people. Where did it come from – I don’t know…. this ability to improvise and create things just imagined. It just came and passed naturally, like so many other and strange things in my life.

Three times a week, before school – for the whole 4 years we also went to 6.00 in the morning – to the swimming pool. Our good old pre-war pool. When we entered in the morning, still sleepy – up through the boiler room – we passed the pool worker, who kindled coal in furnaces.

– What, boys? I don’t wanna get up, huh?- he asked – all dirty with coal – like on some ship.

„Me (yes),” we replied silently, sleepily, walking one after the other as if we were climbing up some Titanic. The main entrance was closed at this time, so we entered the boiler room, in the basement.

In a moment, we were supposed to jump into the semi-cold water and swim for a whole hour – until we lost our strength. I loved it. The sun was slowly rising then….. and we were still swimming.

Through the great windows I could see its powerful rays.  I felt a force within me that was not in me before. My body was flooded with the medium that made me feel so happy. This water and the rising sun. My untamed strength and joy of life. Yes …… such moments are never forgotten.

We were at the age when sport served us greatly. Out of all these guys – some of them also practiced judo in the same club as me (Youth Palace in Katowice). Adam also practiced there, only in a different group.

And here it is necessary to mention how this man received the incredible gift of nature. He was exceptionally durable, strong and fit. He was the best of us all. Except for the Crawl – because here „Li” was th king (but he was a dolphin-man). Adam was an absolute No. 1 in everything related to fitness and endurance. Then there was a long break…. And only then – us.

I remember when we were swimming under water – 25 meters. For a normal body, this is really a lot. So much that when we reached the wall, at the end – everyone already had all the colors of the rainbow in front of their eyes and tried not to draw water – instead of air, and the sunlight above the surface seemed out of reach ……. and at that moment Adam ……- he turned very slowly and swam ….. ANOTHER 25 METERS!

What machine did you have to be to do something like this?

As for dreams – Adam’s dream was to do something great. Create, construct, invent things that have never been done before. At the same time, he was incredibly bold and was not afraid to reach high. During lessons, he focused on technical drawings that he created surreptitiously. He had a very technical mind. The thing that absolutely fascinated him was the „Cardan’s transmission”. I remember his quick and decisive movements with a small pencil on a piece of paper. He knew what he was drawing and felt that this was it. I saw the same type of stroke on my father. He, too, was a born technician and, like Adam, spoke, thought and drew. At home, my father often made sketches of various machines, elements and solutions that he came up with. They were both supposed to meet later. Adam somehow became my father’s apprentice in the mine. How did it happen ?

– See Jarek, how brilliant it is. And so simple – said Adam, for example – How did this guy come up with it? You can transmit the drive angularly. Divine ! To create something like that …… that’s it – that’s it!

Of his many ideas, I mainly remember two – headphones without wires between one and the other – he used the headband as a signal transmitter and his famous two-pen-drafting-compass. It could draw a circle with only half the normal movement, which was in his opinion – more convenient. Other colleagues nodded and smiled at what he was doing.

– Who would want to produce it? – they laughed a little, but also envied.

What have I learned from him? – because I mentioned that I learned a lot. About it below.

Adam was biologically older than us. His way of thinking, his jokes, his approach to life… it all went hand in hand with his greater maturity than us. We – the rest of us were with him as if we were still children. What particularly impressed me about him was his attitude towards girls and women. He always spoke of them with great respect, with some kind of concern. It was coming right out of him – very honestly. They also sincerely adored him. He was an exceptional type of handsome man. He looks a bit like Jean Claude Van Damme – that’s how I always associated him.

Once he and his girlfriend came to me for some notebooks. When I opened the door, I felt stupid. He came with a girl like that….wow. She smiled at me – I remember it well…. She was a really nice girl. Not some cynical „lola” that other colleagues met.

– Where did he find her – I thought?

Adam was also very sensitive to the fact that someone said something uncool about women. Once, one of the guys said something about „her ass”. I remember that. Adam’s leg landed on his jaw. In a way you’ve only seen in the movies. In Adam’s case, the situation between silence and the start of the fight was very fluid. Rather, others stayed away from him in certain situations. – even those who considered themselves heroes.

Adam was also very enterprising. He was planning to open his own company – already at that time. He traded electronic components, etc. on electronic exchanges. He traveled on Saturdays and Sundays to earn some extra money. He also took up the perfume trade. He was like that – money liked him.

I envied him rather the success with his girlfriends. Not only me – the whole school envied him. In my case, it was a mildly positive jealousy. I was learning from him – how to just be, not pretending to be anyone – who you are not. I was learning to know myself and to appreciate myself. I was a very shy boy in dealing with girls. After secondary technical school – I went to technical studies – electronics at the Silesian University of Technology. There are only guys there and lots and lots of science.

I would probably become a „robot – humanoid”, as there were many in my faculty – a man locked in front of a computer, with electronic diagrams in front of him and fumbling in technical books, hiding from the world – if not for dancing ……. But that’s another story. It happened quite by accident and took me completely. And then I also met my own love.

One day something unpleasant happened. Back when we were at school – someone asked me how it was at Adam’s at school. I mentioned that he has some problem with one of the subjects. I said this, completely unaware that this information would reach his brother, who said it to the younger one – Adam. He was very angry with me. He said I disappointed him a lot.

I was completely unaware of the importance of what I had done to him. For him, however, it was mega-important. I didn’t think he would see it that way. I felt terrible. Something like that happened just at the end of school. We didn’t talk anymore. I was really sorry about that.

Many years have passed. We met one more time after that. Directly from the street he took me to his apartment right next to the Katowice Television. That beautiful girl I remembered was now his wife. She still had that lovely smile – just like she used to. We talked cordially and we all laughed. There was nothing left of the old grudge against me. He forgave me …….someone bigger than us was watching over it, and that’s when we met. How would I feel today if that hadn’t happened?

Saying goodbye – we said that we would meet again soon.

After that, we and the family left for Italy.

Then life went on ……

One day – after maybe five more years, when we returned to Poland – I met Grzegorz in Siemianowice (my City) – one of the friends with whom we were swimming then. It was 2006.

– You know Adam’s dead? He said shortly and immediately.

– What ? – stunned me

“He died while sleeping ……. He had two small children. Apparently, his heart could not stand him …

This news was extremely moving for me. 35 is not the age to die. I have tangibly realized how fragile life is. After all, so recently we all sat in one bench and laughed at everything – simply the purest joy of life. So recently  …

It was already 13 years ago. Many other things happened in my life. One of those things is writing. I have wanted to write about Adam for some time. I wanted to write a little about who he was – to keep him in my own way. I wanted to describe the years of high school.

Some of my friends on Facebook remember Adam very well, so they know what a man he was. He is, for example, Jacek – a policeman of flesh and blood. There was a hidden man in it who wanted to help and keep justice. Great respect! It’s beautiful. Jacek also swam with us. He was an eternally smiling boy. I can see that he still has this – it until now.

At this point, I would say – like Forrest Gump, at the end of the movie – „I don’t know to what extent what happens to us is an accident or a destiny.”

Both me and Adam always had a trip in our minds – far away, into the big world. We wanted to do something great, unique. We were both brave. Well, maybe he was much more in relation to girls. We felt that it was in us – it was waiting for the possibility of releasing all our energy … in a moment, just in a moment, just around the corner. It’s almost there. Some idea of ​​hopping on a train and going far away – like at the beginning of a video of „Smalltown Boy”, when the railroad tracks lead in different directions. Some tracks cross ……. Sometimes only for a moment and we run our own ways.

There is also a swimming pool theme in the video – as if taken straight from our story.

Huta Jedność (our steel mill) – one of the symbols of the city – has recently been demolished. After all those years. This steel mill was my grandfather’s temple… From the windows of the school hall, we would not have a view of the crane now. We were supposed to be a team of future engineers – the technical core of a modern tube rolling mill, full of automation. It was supposed to be like that. However, learning from this school was not in vain. I gained a lot from it – both knowledge and experiences, relationships with people and memories. Teachers, culture and respect for learning. For the second and every subsequent time – I would choose this school.

Sometimes I have a memory of all of us walking out of school in a large group – laughing, with loosened ties, with heads full of big dreams …

I don’t know where Adam is buried. Sometimes I would light a candle for him and play him a „Small Town Boy”.

Anyway, wherever you go – in Poland or abroad – this song is played very often. And it always reminds me of him.

We were both „Small Town Boys” – ready to run.

We are on the right track, whatever we think. However, someone watches over it – and the people we have met and were important to us – are still in us … still alive.

………

„You leave in the morning
With everything you own
In a little black case
Alone on a platform
The wind and the rain
And a smile on your face …

 

Our swimming pool.

and „Small Town Boy” – original

 

 

***

CUTLET

Many things happen in childhood that have a strong impact on our entire lives. One such thing was the meal that was shared with me long ago …….. That pork chop did a lot.

I once met a friend with whom we had fun together. After some time, he wanted to invite me to his home and show me a collection of his model planes that he was building. So we went to him and it was nice time.

A story like many. One little man – gets to know the world of another little man.

We didn’t even notice when it was lunchtime. I should get back to myself about this time. The boy’s mom came into the room where we were playing and brought us two plates of soup to the table. Then she brought the main course. These were cutlets with potatoes, beetroot and compote. Smiling, we ate happily.

The dishes were delicious. One detail, however, caught my attention ….. The cutlet we ate was very thin. I’ve never had one like this before. At my home, everything was always plentiful.

Hmm, I thought, probably this family is not very prosperous. I looked around the room a little now. There was not much furniture or toys in it. The walls were painted and there was a small rug on the floor that we were sitting on. We had wallpapers, carpets and various other things, the lack of which was becoming noticeable in this place. However, it was very clean and tidy. A warm sun shone through the window. The whole moment was very nice.

After dinner we had some more fun – and then I went.

I had a long way to my home so I kept thinking. I was thinking like an 8-year-old can.

– At home they will ask me where I have been? – Well of course. I didn’t even come to dinner. I will say that at a friend’s and I forgot a bit – but that I had dinner ……. because it was shared with me …. Oh, that’s what I will say.

I will probably be asked about two things – as always when I was meeting someone new.

The first – is he Silesian?

And the second – is he Catholic?

He was neither one nor the other. It is not known what was worse.

It was important here in Silesia – especially in the past. The incoming people who came to our mines often did not bring great culture with them. It was supposed to be a short earning El Dorado for them (that’s what it was said then), or for Alaska gold diggers in the USA.

Those who took the risk and were able to save money – left after a few years and achieved something. Those who fell in love with alcohol – left with holes in their pockets just as they had arrived. You generally believed that you can earn good in Silesia. During the communist era, you could actually earn a little more in Poland than anywhere else – that’s true. Coming here, however, they did not know that there is always something for something. Some of them prayed to be taken back after the first going down. Some never came back – and they stayed underground forever. You have to be hard man to work underground.

Contact of different cultures – the local tension between the local and the foreigner, especially in the years of great mining, right after the war. Dislike of all visitors from outside was understandable very often. Silesians feared strangers. They were coming to us in increasing numbers. They were young men who later lived in boarding houses and organized drunken libations and provoke fights after work. In the old days, there were regular clashes between both. You can imagine how it felt when a group of visitors beat up a local. Such situations occur at all latitudes. There is a simple rule – respect the house you come to. Respect the people who welcome you in this house. And that’s true wherever you are.

Someone always came here for something, …… and rarely with something …

This is what the Germans did and it was so after the war. People came for coal. For years, Silesians were treated primarily as labor. Our dialect was treated as „dirty language”. In the schools we were warned not to speak „the language of the miners”. For us, hence – it was normal and natural. For teachers (mostly from the outside) it was incorrect and ugly. We were made to feel that we were second-class. However, it was them who came to us – not us to them. We didn’t like it.

Today is different times. Today, when someone comes from the outside – he would like to buy, for example, a T-Shirt with Silesian sentences somewhere in the Silesian Museum – just like that, as a gift to someone, to boast that he was in Katowice.

– Unbelievable – I thought then. What we were constantly admonished for is now sought after and so „sweet”. What times did we live to see. Once upon a time, such a small Silesian was like a funny monkey (the child of simple miners) – when he found himself in a different environment and was told „say this or say that”. Until I was 6, I didn’t speak pure Polish, but I knew this way of talking from television.

Whenever someone from central Poland came to us – for sure in order to get something done with cleverness. Such was a classic picture of a non-Silesian.T he image of a dodger, someone – to earn some extra money – not with honest work, but combinatoriality.

There has always been a certain respect and work culture in Silesia. People believed this was the way. Mining families also had a unique attitude to religion. Here you can find chapels and statues of saints in totally surprising places. You can meet the Christ Cross, with a little picket fence around. There will be fresh flowers under it. The cross will be neat and painted. Someone will light a candle. Right behind it you will see, for example, pipes running left and right, and gray houses in the background – behind them, climbing high to the sky and smoking chimneys. These are the climates of Silesia.

However, the vast majority of workers who came en masse in those years to Black Silesia, however, were okay. People started to be convinced of them. They were also hardworking people who often had their families far away and cared for them very much. They were Catholic too.

Who looked for conflicts ? Only a small margin. Anyway, weren’t in Silesia also families with poverty, scarcity and vodka? Sure they were. There were whole districts of such poor. But that was also just a margin. However, several million people live in Silesia. That’s a lot. Let no one be fooled by the harsh, red brick of Silesian houses. Good people live in these houses. Same as everywhere. You cannot build the image as a whole in the image of the margin. It works either way.

The newcomers (called Gorole) returned home or started families in Silesia. The Silesians (called Hanys) were slowly getting to the visitors – and the newcomers to the Silesians. Thus, this region began to change. Today it is much different.

That’s it for an explanation. Now you understand better why I was asked whether a Silesian or a Catholic.

….. I was coming back then slowly, kicking leaves by the park (because it was autumn) and that’s what I was thinking ….

– I was just in a family that was not from Silesia, and they were good people. Nay. What’s even bigger, these people were not Catholics. I knew this because some other friend had already told me they were Jehovah’s Witnesses. He said it as if warning me. However, I was not afraid of this. I was interested in what such other people were like and that’s why I went there. My child’s instincts told me, „Don’t be afraid – you’re in the right place. These people are good.” I felt it from entering this house.

The same instinct told me something completely different when someone wanted to take me on a motorcycle, two years earlier. Then I knew I had to run away immediately – with all my strength.

I believe in my instincts. It has never let me down before. Then, with this friend, I felt very good, warm and at ease.

– The cutlet was so thin because they are not rich – I kept thinking. They shared what they had with me. I’ll say that at home and then invite this boy to come over. I thought so and did so.

And although he said to our „karminadle” – „minced cutlet” – it did not bother me at all.

From that moment on, I always wanted to meet people other than me. And I’ve always tried to understand someone else’s point of view. And the more different it was – the more it interested me. I tried to think like him.

JARO MAKOSZ

A typical mining shaft – a symbol of my region.

 

***

„TERESKA”

We’ve had a strong sun since yesterday and it makes me remember stories with the sun in the background …. Here is another one – short and quite simple ….

I was 19 then. I felt that I wanted to do something – that made sense. And I did. I have a 20-year-old son, but quite recently I realized that I once had a daughter – for 3 whole weeks.

A long time ago I had a friend Andrzej, an interesting character. Full of spirituality and need of exploration. A person with high personal culture and respect for others. I didn’t know his story, but it was certainly a mystery. He was a very quiet man, gentle – but also somehow wounded. In his apartment, in Bytom, where I visited him from time to time – everything was so different. Very old furniture, lots of books everywhere, but always neatly arranged. Some old paintings on the walls. In the middle of it all, in a flannel shirt (which was what we wore then) he was sitting and suddenly he was playing the guitar – Pink Floyd, Cohen, Stare Dobre Małżeństwo. He read Stachura and could talk about it all beautifully. He was active in a group that helped people in need. It interested me. I met a man who not only spoke beautifully, but also did it.

He wanted to develop spiritually – me too. We were the same age, but I felt I could learn a lot from him. On the path of spirituality, he came further from me – that’s how I felt.

Andrzej was a Catholic, but he also looked for other inspirations. He had an open mind. He read a lot of Mahatma Gandhi – he quoted him sometimes. It was the second time I heard the name of Anthony De Mello with him. A man who was supposed to have a big influence on my development. He was a Hindu clergyman, thinker. A man whose way of thinking later changed mine. He left behind works that inspired me and made me verify my own attitudes.

As my consciousness grew, I became more and more convinced that religions quarrel more than unite people. I also came to the conclusion that there are no good religions – although you can find something good in any of the greatest. I would have to say that the only good religion is simply Good. No ceremony, no priests, no tradition, no hell or heaven. Without the promise of eternal life, which I think is the basis of most people’s faith. Such a trade with God they believe in. I will be good and in return you will give me immortality. Would they be good if nothing was promised in return? When I understood that – I was very sad.

Well, my simple faith in goodness is not a religion. It’s just a core belief in …… and that’s it. And here I went my own way – different from Andrzej and different from De Mello and different from many other people. Simple and ordinary way ….. my own.

But that’s not what I wanted to write about.

So we sat in his apartment and talked, drinking the tea he made. His inner peace and a kind of natural balance were what I respected. The whole old apartment on Wallisa street in Bytom, with its dimness, despite the summer and the light inconspicuously falling inside – was like from distant India or China. The silence that reigned there additionally meant that almost immediately everyone who entered there – also calmed down. These flats were still built by the Germans. There are many such buildings in this city.

I felt that Andrzej understood something that I was still looking for.

And so one day he called me and asked if I was ready to go somewhere for 3 weeks to work with disabled children.

– Sure –  I replied shortly.

– You said you were brave – I felt him laughing

– I am

– We’re going the day after tomorrow,” he said, saying goodbye – Pack your bags ……

I remember almost a moment later getting on the bus. Andrzej was standing at the entrance with his ball of red hair on his head. Like a Negro – just ginger. He would probably look perfectly normal in Ireland. In Poland, it was exotic.

He said briefly:

– This is Adaś, your ward.

I looked at the boy sitting in the wheelchair. He was watching me too. He had jet black hair and a penetrating gaze. A thin face. Slender, lean body. His arms and legs were crossed tightly, his wrists twisted and his mouth twisted. Then I found out that this is what people with cerebral palsy look like. I felt he wanted to tell me something, but he was only making soft moans. I didn’t understand anything, but I was full of will to understand. We looked at each other for a moment longer. Suddenly the bus jerked and I fell into my seat. At that moment, he hugged my neck and pressed me against him. I was totally surprised by the situation.

Andrzej, who, as it turned out, was watching everything stealthily, exclaimed from the next row.

– Adaś has accepted you. Cool. He knows people. – He was smiling from ear to ear, in his unique style.

I didn’t even suspect that one of the most beautiful adventures of my life was about to begin. Adventures that made me understand what it means to be human.

We drove to Brynica, a small village near Opole. The weather was beautiful, sunny and hot for the whole 3 weeks. The place where we were to spend this time was a great monastery. All empty. Around the pastures, small houses, somewhere further a church. We had a lot of greenery and a small orchard in front of the building.

Adaś was in a wheelchair, so they gave us the sacristy of a small monastic chapel that existed in the building – so as not to bring this wheelchair. It was drenched in the sun and I immediately liked it there.

This whole event was invented by a certain Leonard – another mystery man. I remember he was smoking one cigarette after another and he liked to quote a Canadian thinker who wrote in French – Jean Vanier. He read us excerpts from his books in the evening.

We were a jumble of very different people there. Someone there was previously a monk or a nun, someone there worked in a charity organization, someone studied medicine there, someone studied theology, someone physics, and another mathematics. I was also in all this – a man who was curious about everything … I was not particularly religious, although I came from a very religious family. I wasn’t looking for religiosity. I was looking for people …

We all had one thing in common. We wanted to do something good for these children and young people. Leonard picked them up from the poorest districts around Zabrze, Gliwice and Ruda Śląska. All those who could never afford to leave. There were mentally handicapped and severely physically disabled children with us. There were children from drunken families and with difficult experiences. A great mix of human stories.

It was strange that ever since I was among them – those who were rejected by society – I felt that I was among my own. Among people who do not try to achieve something, to impress – because society has deleted them long ago. It would seem that they lost everything because of their handicap, disease and limitations. And this is not true, because it was in them that what is most beautiful in a human being – sincerity, simplicity of heart and goodness that I experienced at every step. Older people with disabilities had the sensitivity and beauty of children. Their naive faith in man – after all. Much to write about it …..

Our group was very large (about 120 people). So, on the first day, I only got to know some of the people briefly, and it wasn’t until the next day that we started implementing some plans for our stay.

I remember repairing a wheelchair when I noticed someone watching me.

I turned slightly. A little girl was standing near me. Maybe eight or nine years old. She smiled and pressed her hands together, bending a little to the side. She was clearly excited.

– What are you doing ?  – she asked.

I showed her my hands dirty with grease.

– I’m trying to fix it – I replied.

– You’re an expert ?

– I do not know,… maybe ? I’m just trying to find out

– Where are you from ? – She asked further

– From Siemianowice Śląskie

– And I am from Zabrze. My name is Teresa. For now….., she said, waving a hand.

She ran somewhere and I kept doing my job.

We had a very busy time and there weren’t that many boys, so there was a lot of manual work. During the day you thought less and worked more. At night the opposite.

But on the same day, in the evening, this little girl found me again at dinner. I was sitting outside on a bench eating some modest dish. A girl with short blonde hair and blue eyes came closer and sat down next to me. She was watching me closely, smiling slightly. In the morning she didn’t have the courage to come up. She started rocking slightly back and forth on this bench. I clearly felt she wanted to say something, but somehow she couldn’t get it out.

– Have you eaten yet? – I asked.

She nodded, rocking on and hiding her neck in her arms. She was up to something and was sweeping the ground under the bench with her feet. I saw it clearly.

– Will you be my dad? –  she said finally.

Until my eyes widened.

– How’s that, …… Dad !!?

She scared me with this unexpected question. I didn’t know what all this was leading to. A child shows up and asks the question simply and directly. Shock ……. I didn’t know what to do and she was looking at me intently without taking her eyes off me. How do you get out of this skillfully? – I thought. I didn’t want to hurt her with my answer. So I quickly came up with an answer-question to save a little time.

– You want me to be your dad? How is that?

– Well,” she said, only during this camp. You could be my dad. Will you agree?

She stared at me, expecting a reaction. I could see the tension on her face. Blue, slightly sad eyes waited for an answer.

– What should I do? I asked.

– You do not have to do anything. I’ll be able to call you Dad and sometimes you’ll take me for a walk with others, or you will sit with me or tell me something.

I was silent. I still couldn’t sort it all out. Such a shot – right between the eyes.

– So how will you be? – She repeated once again, impatient and resentful because I thought too long.

She probably imagined that I would say enthusiastically – Yes, of course … Great!

I felt that from the beginning of this whole event I was getting into some thick topics and I couldn’t get used to it yet. One topic was chasing another – and I was not ready for any of them. Yesterday I was elsewhere, and then suddenly a completely different world.

– How did you get here? –  I asked, still delaying the answer.

– I’m from an orphanage. There are more of us here, but we are healthy. I have a mom and dad. Dad is far away and mom misses him.

This is how she briefly presented her simple story to me.

– Now I understand. So I would be your temporary daddy?

What, will I be the 19-year-old dad of an eight-year-old girl? – I thought. And I don’t know what she can expect. How am I supposed to behave? Then the camp will end and the child will be in despair. I wanted to explain it all to her, but seeing her expression, I said.

– I will.

She jumped with joy and excitement. She put her little hand on mine and then covered the other. She smiled from ear to ear and then suddenly jumped up and flew somewhere, bouncing along the way.

Maybe good, because I had no idea what to do next.

– Whew – I thought – and this is your experience.

***

We had work to do every now and then, so there wasn’t much time to think about it all. And good. It wasn’t until late in the evening that I talked to one of the guys who knew more about what was going on there. He was from Zabrze and apparently came with this group, from an orphanage.

– You know Tereska, such a tiny, slim blonde?

– I know – he replied. She has parents. Her mother visits her very rarely. Drinks. I didn’t see her father at all. I don’t know about him. A history like many. That’s it – what?

– Nothing. – I said – she told me about her family.

– She’s prone to fantasizing. Don’t believe everything she says. It’s a good baby. She is very helpful and energetic. She is everywhere.

– I noticed

That same evening, Adam and I drove the trolley to the sacristy and Tereska was standing in the corridor.

– Good night Dad ! – She said loudly and proudly, waving her hand at me.

Smiling, she turned and jumped quickly out of the corridor.

***

Adaś was a good companion. It turned out that he speaks only very rarely, slowly and with great difficulty. We were both 19. Over time, however, we understood each other more and more. It was enough that I was a patient listener.

The sacristy was usually visited by a few people with guitars, including Andrzej. And it was great. The nights, their poetry and the fact that they treated everything so seriously, as if they were fully aware that each meeting of another person means so much. It was beautiful. Until then, I didn’t know such people. I was glad for their presence. Everyone was so different and each one fascinating.

The next day I was to find out what these ideas are in the mind of a little girl named Teresa. Before dinner, I was doing something important, very busy with it, and here comes Tereska with a companion, whom she leads by the hand. Then she leaves her and quickly runs away.

– There was a girl standing nearby. Finally, no less ashamed of me, she says:

– She brought me to you and says you’re her dad.

We both smile.

– Vacation dad – I say – And what about it?

– I don’t know, but I think she’s looking for a partner for you.

– NO ! – I exclaimed nervous about it. – that’s why she ran away so fast.

We introduced ourselves and talked for a while.

Tereska, however, did not give up for the next few days and almost every day she brought me some girls, potential partners for my life.

– You must have a woman – she said, or you’ll be sad. – My mom is sad without my dad.

She repeated that words many times. I did not remember whole quote, but only the ending – „…..because without daddy – sad is mummy…”.

During the day, whenever there was an opportunity, she would ask her group tutor if she could go for a walk with me. We were walking through the village with the other children. She was happy to join us. As much as possible – she tried to get my attention.

And this, for example, by climbing a tree and calling out:

– Daddy, Daddy. See what I can do!

Another time, standing on his hands against the wall.

She picked flowers for me, or brought me fruit, which she had picked up from someone’s orchard. When I came for meals, she was already serving me a plate full of various things. She was entering into the queue to arrange this for me as soon as possible. She took care of me. Incredible !

-Children from the orphanage do so – said a friend who once sat next to me – they have to take care of themselves, but I can see you have already been taken care of by someone – he smiled.

Somewhen on the third or fourth day, Tereska became more daring. So, on the fourth day… .without a word, she climbed onto my lap and hugged me. It surprised me very much, but shyly – I hugged her too. We sat there in silence. I didn’t say anything, but I felt that this child needed it.

Immediately a thought popped into my head that I am not her father and she would suffer a lot when this whole party was over. That worried me for sure … very much.

Somehow, at that moment, there were no people who could notice it. Perhaps this was the moment Tereska was waiting for. Then she slid down slowly to her feet, smiled again, and flew away.

I think she told her best friend about it because the very next day I had two amateurs to sit on my lap. The other girl was a little gypsy. Her name was Inez. It was very strange, because I did not think that Gypsy children are also in orphanages. I have not heard of such stories. But what did I know? So from the next day I had two little companions, but I was a father only for Tereska. This is how she thought it up and Inez respected these unwritten arrangements. Both appeared unexpectedly and disappeared unannounced. 

Once, Inez, sitting on my lap, took my hand and said:

– Give me your hand. I will tell you something. After all, I am a gypsy.

Her fingers ran along my palm lines. Finally she said:

– I see that in your life you will have a lot of women around you and very few men friends …

That was all she said – and nothing more.

The way she said it made me wonder. She turned and stared at me with dark brown eyes. There was something very mature about that look.

I do not know how much she made it up and how much it was the result of just careful observation. I suspect the latter because there were actually many girls with whom I spent a lot of time. I learned a completely different way of seeing the world – feminine.

We talked with the girls on various topics, until once I started a conversation with one of them about Tereska.

– Look, I don’t want to hurt this baby – because it’s going to be over soon. It’s only 3 weeks. How should I proceed? – I asked.

– Just be, and never make any promises. Listen to carefully, try to understand, notice valuable things. That’s all. No more is needed. And don’t worry about it. Someone up there knows better what is doing.

And so time passed. During the day we did our best. We went on excursions. On this occasion, we carried children and teenagers to the bus. I remember the moment when I brought girls 17, 18 or even twenty two years old. I remember that moment when they grabbed my neck and in such a close embrace I walked with them in my arms. These were moments of unexpected intimacy for both of us.

After those days of heat, at night we were too enthusiastic to sleep. It is impossible to forget those evenings by the fire, these conversations. We were all young, honest and genuine. It is somewhere there, in this period of life, that we shape the way we want to go. For me, this time in Brynica was very important – because for the first time I knew that I was doing something that really makes sense. And that was the sense in giving myself to others.

In the evenings we sometimes sang with a certain Jurek from Bytom. Much older than me, because such people also happened there. He was disabled – both physically and somewhat intellectually. His parents, two old men, looked after him at home. Every day he lived in a completely different world and this trip was like a blessing for him. So we were sitting on the windowsill with Jurek and, at sunset, we sang some Silesian insurgent songs like – „The red sun is already going down” or „The boys are coming from the Bytom Riflemen …”. He was very musical and he loved to sing. And it suited me immensely.

Adaś, my ward did not speak much – he expressed a lot with his gaze and his movements. All the reactions of these disabled people were very direct. Nobody was up to anything here, nobody had anything to lose. On the other hand, it was indisputable that all those sick and disabled, rejected by fate – have a certain gift that we, healthy, can only barely touch. I learned this humbly from them. There were no better or worse – we were all equal.

***

And those 3 weeks have passed.

On the day of departure – the children from the morning were sadder, quieter, but at the same time felt that they were happy and fulfilled. They were charged with good energy, sun and air, and above all with other people and goodness …

Children from the orphanage in Zabrze also got on the bus. Tereska was as reluctant as she could. Finally, this little rascal, with short blond hair, cut as if someone were cutting it with closed eyes, no matter how it turned out – this girl came up to me and took one last time around my neck.

– Goodbye…. Daddy – she said, ……thank you.

She pressed me tightly against her, then suddenly released me and flew to the bus.

When the bus started moving – I saw her still behind the rear window. She was waving and waving at me ……. She was smiling and happy.

The bus drove straight ahead for a while, then disappeared around the bend in a cloud of August dust.

I was needlessly worried, I thought. It turned out much better than I could have imagined. I did so many other things and I was her imaginary dad by the way. She was the one who always found me and disappeared according to her own rules. She was a very smart girl. It did not impose itself on me at all. She didn’t want much – just to be noticed. She wanted a hug, she wanted to sit on my lap. She didn’t expect anything from me.

When I think about it all these years later, I realize that many children do not get what they need from their parents. Many girls, for example, do not see in the eyes of their fathers the future worthy women they will become. They look for support in them and do not find it. Are there fathers in all apparently healthy and normal homes who take their daughters on their laps and hug them?

Are there fathers who take little sons on their laps and give them self-confidence, because they need it at a certain age, no less than girls? A lot is always required of boys, especially to stay tough, but will they be tough and ready to defend the weaker if they don’t get love themselves?

I also realized what courage Andrzej was talking about when he called me.

Real courage is to be with a disabled person. Be when society is watching you and often rejecting you. Look after a disabled child. Look after the weaker. This is real courage, not some parachute jumping or other crap. This is only bravado, not courage.

I don’t ask anymore if it all made sense for just 3 weeks. I know that it would make sense at any time, because sometimes these short moments that we receive from completely strangers to us – they are the only ones ……

On this today I end my short and simple story …

PS

I wonder if Tereska or rather Teresa remembers me today? Today she is reaching 40. I wonder what she does? Is she happy in the family? What was her relationship with men? Did she believe them? Does she associate them well? I sincerely hope so…

Ustron, March 31, 2019

 

***

CALLING

There is a musician that I meet every now and then in different places. He likes to sit with his guitar in some old town square, …. or on the promenade.

He plays his music for people – just like that. He certainly isn’t doing it for the money or the fame. He gives himself to it. That’s what street artists do. He doesn’t expect applause ….. he just does what he feels.

He is a very modest man. We spoke twice. First, many years ago in Bydgoszcz, then in Cieszyn. I know both of these days well. They were warm and sunny summer afternoons. Such a quiet and after dinner.

Then I asked – how many plays a day. He replied that a minimum of 5 hours. Yes – art is a kind of vocation that requires work on oneself. Most often there are few rewards – and many sacrifices for that.

I met him recently – a few months ago. He was very focused on playing. I was walking through the market with a small cup of espresso. I wanted to show him a raised thumb at some point – to convey a kind of greeting from me, and to say, „Keep doing yours. This is it.” ….. But I know that he will do it anyway – because it is his calling – and he knows it. So he shares himself. Anyone who knows his calling will follow the path of giving to others what he was given from the nature.

Maybe I’ll meet him again someday. Maybe – in some other city, … of another year. Who knows? I don’t believe he will ever stop playing. I wish him all the best.

I have 2 of his CDs at home. His name is Vadim Gavva. He comes from Ukraine. He has been playing from the age of 8. He was born two years before me. He decided to convey his feelings to people with the guitar.

Vadim Gavva … www.fotopuck.pl – YouTube

 

***

 

LIVING IS GIVING

I listen to a lot of different materials every day. Eating meals, driving to work in the car, going to the store, waiting somewhere in line, washing dishes … – and recently I had a thought in these materials several times. Different people who have really achieved a lot in their life – they used to say the same thing in different ways – something like „The more you give, the more you live.” I would call it that and I know they are right.

It is all about the contribution we make to the great human family. On different ways. It is not just about material help, but about anything. It can be a scientific contribution, a work of art, bringing someone shopping, helping with homework, explaining something, giving someone something, or even giving someone a bit of your time – to listen with understanding.

I have always been international mentally. From an early age, I was aware that the world is great and that very different people live in it. This is why I started learning English myself as a very young person, when other people of my generation did not. Whenever I met someone from abroad, I was very happy. Precisely because I was aware of being part of one great human family. I am one of those people who are always looking for an agreement, not a difference. From those who seek integration, not disintegration. And I mean both – my country and the world. Of course, not at the expense of the core values ​​that I believe in – but I will always and on every occasion seek communication with anyone if possible.

The world is big. We have a lot, but not everywhere. Some people don’t even have something as obvious as clean water. I was aware of this, so we never wasted water or food at home. This was what I was taught from an early age. This experience also played a role.

You don’t have to use that much water – limit it.

You can’t eat it all now – secure it and eat it later.

Never throw away food, except when it is stale. -this is the only case. Sometimes I see some people failing to finish their meal and push the plate away. Then some more will throw the napkin that they have just wiped their mouths on to such a plate – and finish the meal with a sweet smile of satisfaction.

Well, they will not force themselves to eat – they will say. So take a break and eat the rest afterward.

Above all, don’t take more than you can eat. And it’s not just about eating in life. I will not write about what I feel then. Not to mention the fact that an animal also lost its life so that this someone could have something on a plate. No words.

But that’s not what I wanted to write about ……

Once, during a religion class, when we were still in elementary school – the priest told us about Dag Hammarskjold – Swede, former UN secretary. He was a broad-minded man. He was a brave and morally strong diplomat. He paid for it with his life.

I don’t know about the others, but his story made a great impression on me. This good young priest told it with such passion that I understood his message. It is worth telling young people such things. Then they still understand it. Then they are carried away by the whirlwind of life and they are guided by other priorities.

Every time I see this characteristic blue color of United Nations – I remember that day, ….that sunny afternoon in this catechetical room.

The UN also has branches – such as Unicef (international aid for children), UNESCO (World Heritage Protection), or WHO (World Health Organization).

 

People of different places, cultures, religions and political beliefs – they work hand in hand. They are united by their overriding goal. I am also thinking about it in the context of my own country – Poland.

Such an approach to the world begins in early childhood, when mother or father, grandmother or grandfather – tell you: „Share with the other child, because he or she does not have enough ....”. This is where it starts. There are also some parents who say „Be smarter …. be better, be the first”. These are two very different life paths. You have to be very careful about that. The very language used by adults has a huge impact on a child.

I started thinking about it recently, after I found some material on the Internet about a man who underwent a great transformation in his life. The beginning of this story is mild. Here is a little boy from a loving family who wants to be a doctor in the future. He learns a lot about the world, plays the piano, helps at home. Such a person will surely grow up to be a good person because he has received so much good himself.

Life, however, wrote a different scenario for him. In early childhood, his mother accidentally poisoned herself with gas and it caused her immune system to collapse. With him – also his childhood (I quote his words directly). Together with their father, they looked after their mother and the house. He did things that kids his age don’t usually do.

And so came his 18th birthday.

He left for New York, He entered a different world immediately.

He loved music and joined a rock group. Then came alcohol and drugs. He became a master in a strange profession – he was known in the most important VIP clubs. He sold the most expensive spirits and champagnes there. He knew beautiful and rich people. He knew how to get down there.

Until one time, at one of the big parties in South America, he realized it was going downhill …… and that wasn’t what life was about.

From then on, its history changes by 180 degrees. He remembered who he really was.

The rest – you will find in this short video. In the 5th minute of this story, a wonderful man also appears – dr. Gary Parker. People like them make someone to learn from.

The Spring – The charity: water story – YouTube

 

***

OLD MAN

It was a warm day in June. I was driving through Silesian districts that I didn’t even know. Small single-family houses or those two-story brick buildings and almost always a garden nearby ….. flowers. Although not rich, but always neat and clean.

That was the route I chose that afternoon. As I often combined work with pleasure, I enjoyed this moment. I opened the window wide, letting the hot air flow freely into the car. I still wanted to make a short conversation with the boss of a certain company. There was some time left, so I rode without a hitch with my hand outstretched behind the glass. I listened to Neil Young’s concert at Massey Hall from ’71. This unique guitar and his emotional voice. I was playing with my left hand with the warm air that flowed around my hand from the rush of the car. He was just singing „Old Man”. I liked this piece a lot.

Sometimes, completely unexpectedly, we get moments from fate that we remember for unknown why. We didn’t plan them. They happened between one thing and another, between the pursuit of one topic and another. This – was just like that.

At that time, I was very busy, and yet it happened that something was either late or not yet started – and here it is, a moment for me. I closed my eyes. The late afternoon sun flickered through my eyelids. Small buildings obscured them only for a moment – there is, … there is not, ..there is…. and there is not. I am playing with it and I feel blissful. I’m finally resting.

My Ford Focus carries me almost alone as a horse carries a rider. As if he knew the route. We’re probably going a bit too fast, but the road is safe.

I am reminded of my childhood and our trips to the unknown with my friend Artur. We packed the most necessary things in haversacks. There was always a church book among them. I had one with a black cover and he had the one with a white cover. I never asked him why. He probably had from his sister, … maybe?  We had those books, so that we could pray in the dark hour, because this hour could be the last for what we did sometimes. We were maybe 9 years old – no more. Sometimes we would say prayers while doing various risky things. Usually we walked from the morning as much as we could – until something we did not know appeared. This is how we found a bridge, which later became our playground. We spent almost the entire vacation there that summer. The coal trains we were waiting for, the cornfields around and the view of the world to the horizon, wonderful sunsets, and the fact that these trains were going somewhere – far, into the unknown – was the most exciting.

Just like my neighborhood – I was passing right now. I even passed a steel bridge similar to ours.

I was driving through Kochłowice, Ruda Śląska, Bielszowice – through the suburb. And that’s good, because the tranquility of the suburbs suited me very much now. There, little changes over the years.

In my home – we also had a beautiful garden at the house. Big enough for me to consider it unexplored. It was a garden full of miracles for me. As I rarely went anywhere – until I was six – I imagined the world more than I knew it. As a child, falling asleep I often heard trains, somewhere far away. That soothing and swaying clatter that disappears. I also heard the sounds of a motorbike appearing out of nowhere and gently quieting down. These are the sounds of my childhood. To this day, I react to them and recall my good reactions.

And then there was the clatter of the typewriter. The owner of our little house lived with her family on the first floor and wrote long into the night. I don’t know what, but she did it almost every day. I figured it had to be a writer and she probably writes books.  That’s what the child thinks. So the matter was clear to me and I didn’t wonder what she was writing about. I felt it must be something beautiful.

Years later, I discovered, that the bridge on which we played with Artur was some 200-300 meters from our first family home. So these are the trains I heard ……

 

I was already in Bielszowice and I took a long curve to the left. Dry dust drifted heavily from under the wheels – a thick cloud. I didn’t expect to do something like this. I took the entire turn in fourth gear. I should have instinctively downshifted.  I still managed to look at the dust cloud in the mirror and I would go on, because there was almost nothing in this place – no house or fences, just some wooden telecommunication poles…

At the last moment, however, I noticed something … like a wheelchair. The sun was reflecting off its frame and someone was sitting there. Someone as small as a child. I thought so.

– Fuck!  – I shouted to myself and immediately went down to the right.

I quickly got out of the car and headed for the wheelchair. There was a man sitting on it … maybe around 50. He had no legs. They were cut off at the very base of the thighs.

I walked over to him …… and I stopped. Pungent smell of urine and dirt – I choked my nostrils. The man was asleep and I don’t think he even noticed that I drove up. It got quiet ……. Somehow the cars didn’t pass this way.

I was wondering what to do next. Maybe it’s better not to wake him up? It was puzzling, however, why this man is here alone, in this deserted area? Has anyone abandoned him?

Now, more than apologizing to him – I just wanted to help him. I touched his shoulder lightly. The smell continued pounding in my nostrils. I remembered my experiences at the hospital and what I always repeated to myself when they brought alcoholics, suicides, and burns to our shifts – „He’s a human.” This is important …… We connected them to the equipment and waited for the kidneys to start working on their own.

Compassion for this man was stronger than disgust.

– Hello – I said softly, touching him lightly with my hand.

He slept on, breathing steadily.

– Hello – I repeated.

He moved slowly at last, lifted his head and looked at me. We were looking at each other ……. now very closely.

He didn’t know what I was doing here yet, and he was looking at me searchingly, but without fear. His face was incredibly dirty. It is not the first time that the dust of the road was pressed into his eyes, eyebrows, lips, forehead – everywhere. Everything was dusty, … like a miner. I knew this sight in my father’s when it unexpectedly appeared on the surface, because it was easier for him to go normally to the second shaft. Except this man didn’t have it from the mine.

– How are you ? – I asked (to this day I do not know how I found just such a semi-absurd question …?)

He smiled broadly and very sincerely.

= Good, actually – he replied slowly.

He blew me away with it. I would expect anything, but not that answer. Basically, I considered two variants:

– First – Fuck off, what’s the matter with you?

or the other – drunken purr, lower head and indifference.

But he continued to stare at me with that faint smile. There was something like Paul Newman in his face. Even a lot. For this short, slightly wavy hair – probably blonde, because the dust colored it gray. There were a few laughing lines at the corners of his eyes. That’s how I remembered him.

There was a moment of silence and we continued to watch each other.

„Sorry to get the dust on you,” I said.

– No problem. I didn’t even notice.

– What are you doing here in this wilderness?

– I got here, I was tired and I fell asleep, – he said simply.

– Give you a lift somewhere? Do you live here, nearby?

– No, you don’t. I live nearby. I can handle it with my hands. Here smiling even more – he showed me both hands, incomparably more dirty than his face.

I was standing over him and he was looking up at me. He looked like a half-human being. I felt uncomfortable. If anyone could see us from a distance now, he would think that I am standing over a pram in which a small child is sitting. Nevertheless, I understood that I am dealing with a mentally strong man. I respected this strength more and more.

After a long moment of silence, in which I did not know what to do next – get in the car and drive, …….. or maybe pat him on the shoulder, maybe jump for a beer ?

– I was in the army. You know, we had a soccer team. I was doing well. They said I have talent. After leaving the army, I wanted to continue playing. I loved it. However, there was an accident. I was crushed by the metal structure. I passed out. When I woke up, the doctor was standing over me. I feel goddamn pain. I notice that I have no legs and I ask him – Where are my legs? And he laughs and says – it’s over with legs….

Here he interrupted ……

Some people shouldn’t be doctors, I thought. He couldn’t tell him otherwise …… motherfucker?

Silence again. He hung his head. I notice him biting his lip lightly. His fingers clenched on the stroller frame feel nervous. Silence again.

– I feel sorry for you – I say finally.

– You know? I’m over it now – he smiled once again.

I knew that, however, not …

A writer once said that a real man can smile anytime, anywhere – no matter what the circumstances. He undoubtedly could.

– Before that happened -he began unexpectedly – I had a girlfriend. A nurse, in the same hospital I went to later. Miracle woman. Incredibly beautiful eyes, wavy hair, shapely, cheerful … with life.

Sometimes I came to this hospital on leave to see her. She happened to be working in the neonatal unit. …… I came on duty one night. There was no one – he stopped here, …..as if he didn’t know if he wanted to tell me more ………. – We kissed like crazy and then we lost control completely and you know – little children here, …… and we ……

At this point, he clearly felt ashamed. He even raised his hand slightly and smiled blissfully. He relived the moment again … as he probably did many times in his later life. I knew he was happy for a moment. I knew that it was probably the happiest moment of his life, since he told me, a stranger, right away…..just

Or maybe it was his half-sleep and he was not fully aware of his confidences? This was what he looked like now.

Come on, I knew that this moment is maybe a dozen or so seconds, maybe a few minutes – for him it was all he had left …..

He was sitting now relaxed, eyes closed. His hands fell limp to his sides and he pressed his whole body into the support. He was breathing slowly and steadily. I didn’t know if he was falling asleep again. It was a sacred moment. I felt this holiness with my whole being.

I didn’t want to disturb this moment in the least. I stood and looked at his blissful face.

The laughing corners of the eyes were soiled with summer dust that the deep lines were much brighter than the rest of the face.

The sun was now low and turning orange. In the evening, the sun travels faster in the sky than during the day. It’s like life, when you are older – the faster time goes.

I was partially covering the sun for this man. His face, however, was brightly lit.

He had to be a strong and handsome man, I thought. The man women liked. Now his days are completely different. Everything changed in an instant. He managed to meet the one and now he remembers the same things over and over – poor fellow. She was so important to him that he tells me about her right away. Me,….a stranger. It was the memories of this girl that kept him alive – because his situation was objectively hopeless ………… after all.

I would guess he lives on some kind of unemployment benefit. He’s probably drinking to kill the pain and waiting to die, I would have thought if I hadn’t heard it all. His sight and words, however, contradicted this image. He had strong arms and his body didn’t seem to give up.

…………

I thought he was asleep again – so I decided to leave him as I had met him. I thought it would be for the best. I went to the car and drove away. I looked for the nearest store. I found a little „Społem” about a kilometer away. My God, they have something else like that here? – I thought. I took the four-pack and went back to him. When I drove up carefully so as not to stir up the dust, he was already awake.

– Take it, it will come in handy – I said.

– Thanks ! – he was sincerely pleased – and again …… a suspension in time.

– I think it’s time for me – I said.

At this point, however, he seemed to sense it and stopped me with these words.

– You want to know what happened next?

– Do you want to talk?

…………….

– She married a doctor from that hospital. Handsome, educated, …. position, confident future. Do you know ?…. He spoke slowly and then lowered his head again. His voice seemed to tremble a little, but his military habits were stronger – he quickly returned to the strong tone that people who have long contact with the military maintain for life – She comes to see me sometimes. He always brings me a package. Her husband is then sitting in the car – downstairs and waiting …..

Here he fell silent. I knew he didn’t want to talk anymore.

I also understood in that instant what was keeping him alive. Only now did I really understand. I touched his shoulder lightly.

– Best wishes –  I said.

– It will be useful, ………. thanks – he replied shortly.

He realized that we were just saying goodbye and opened his eyes wide. Despite the strong sun, I noticed that they were green – like mine. And those wrinkles near the eyes…..

For a split second, some strange, visual exchange of information took place between us.

– You are like me – I understood in a split second – For us only love matters in life. Everything else …… is dust, ….just road dust.

………….

I turned the car around because there was no point in going anywhere anymore. I decided to call from the tour that I am sorry and that I will not be able to make it because something fell out. How many times do I constantly change my scenarios unexpectedly. Just one more.

As I drove past him, he smiled again…..He raised his hand and then I entered a long, gentle curve. Despite my best wishes, the dust flew up so much that I lost the man in the rearview mirror. Disappeared ……

Only now did I realize that tape music was playing from the moment I turned the key in the ignition switch –

„Old man take a look at my life
I’m a lot like you were ……
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that’s true. ”.

We all want love.  From the first, to the last breath – I say to myself …..

————————–

I was coming back much slower, thinking about what had happened to me.

Can I judge anyone here? I have no right. This is how their life turned out. This woman, however, remembered about him. And her husband understood that ….. and shared her in a way.

Each of us has our own movie of life. His was extremely painful.

Do women love less than men? Probably not … but different. Sometimes female love bursts into a fierce flame, like the flame of a lit newspaper. It is tall, strong, fierce. And then suddenly, for some reason ……… goes out. Women ultimately choose stability and security in life. It’s hard to even blame them. Nature makes them look for support for future children.

Men may not show their feelings so spectacularly, but they love long and deeply, and he is another proof of that. He still loves her, but I think she loves him too. She loves both men at the same time – I think so. Because why are they telling us that we only need to love one person? I think true love has two qualities – it is permanent and it is eternal. A feeling that does not have these two properties is not true love. Finally, the doctor she married. A wise man – he was not greedy, he was not jealous – how many would be. He understood. They entered into a very specific relation. Nobody loved anyone less because of it.

– Love does not envy, …… does not look for its property – a guy wrote many years ago. I come from a very Catholic family, so I know this quote, although I do not profess any religion, except one – …….. Love.

This is what I understood at that moment.

Sometimes – I put a beer on the table in the evening, take my guitar and play riffs to „Old man”.

– I wonder what’s up with him – I think then ……..

…….

I really met that man, in June 2006, on the road in Ruda Śląska Bielszowice. Later that same month, my life was about to change by 180 degrees, but I didn’t even suspect it yet. Hospitals change people. Life is one big surprise.

JARO MAKOSZ

 

Neil Young – in a cult performance from the year I was born .. 🙂 curiosity

 

***

Jarosław (JARO) Makosz

www.jmakosz.com