A Surprise Visit with Babcie
May 8th, 2006 at 9:24 am by Susie
We went to one of those New Age shops in St. Pete Beach to get our tarot cards read. (My friend and I both love this stuff.) Anyway, the woman (who’s a middle-aged snazzy-looking blonde from Poland) starts telling me my grandmother’s there and she’s speaking in Polish. I don’t know Polish, so she’s translating.
“She’s telling you to drink milk with honey,” she says. “She says you’re not getting enough calcium.”
I tell the reader I’m a little surprised to hear from my Babcie, because there are over 80 grandchildren and I wasn’t sure she even knew who I was.
She laughs. “They have a lot of time on the other side to keep track of everybody,” she says.
So they’re apparently having this conversation. The reader’s looking over to my left, nodding and laughing. First she speaks in Polish, then she translates. “She’s telling me you need to go to the Polish dance, you’ll meet the man you’re going to marry.”
I give her a look. “Is this advice… or a prediction?”
“It’s a prediction,” she said. “She’s showing me the dance, they’re wearing, you know, the skirts… are you part German?” I tell her yes. She says, “It might be some kind of German-Polish festival, but she’s saying you’ll meet this Polish man and you’ll marry him. He’s very tall, very funny, he makes you laugh.”
“A Polish dance?” I say doubtfully. “Look, if she’s been paying any attention to me, she should know that’s the absolute last place in the world I’m likely to be. Unless it was a political event or something, which even then is not all that likely.”
“She’s saying you have to make the effort and go. Do you live near any Polish neighborhoods?” I tell her as a matter of fact, I just moved close to where my grandmother used to live, but I didn’t know of any Polish dances. I mean, the whole area’s innundated with yuppies and hipsters now.
I tell the psychic that when I was little, I was convinced my grandmother was a vampire. In the old country, when someone died, they’d prop the coffin up against a tree and take one last picture of the loved one. They were those coffins that are sort of kite-shaped, and Babcie had lots of those pictures on her bureau top. Since the only ones I’d ever seen were in vampire movies, I deduced that Babcie was… a vampire!
The reader looks at me and sighs. “This has no meaning to her. She has no… what you say, context for this.”
She reminds me again about the milk. She tells me to make the effort, go to the Polish-German dance to meet the man I’ll marry. (I don’t remind her what the Germans did to Poland.) She tells me I look good for a woman my age, I should wear a little makeup once in a while.
I go off, waiting for my Polish prince to come. Moja droga, ja cie kocham…
Polka! Polka! Everybody LOVES a polka party — it’s now required by law!
We have a Polish Festival here in Delaware…I think it will be in September this year. I am sure there is a School or Church carnival coming up in your area. This is the time of year for it.
Stolat!
Dajme Buje, Baby!
Maybe the Polish Muslims– Detroit’s Premier Polka Punk band will play Philly, this year… I’d bet you’d go to that!
http://www.thepolishmuslims.com/
“Last night I went out with “you know who,”
The Bobcie with the size-12 Bowling Shoe…
She looked at my crotch, and she made some kind of sigh…
She said, What you need to dance, is… LOVE POLKA #9.”
Cheers!
–mf
Susie, I rely on your blog to guide me through the news of the day, but I love it when you write posts like this one too!
Hmmmm… I’ll have think about some Polish-German events for DG08 ;-).
“I tell her as a matter of fact, I just moved close to where my grandmother used to live, but I didn’t know of any Polish dances. I mean, the whole area’s innundated with yuppies and hipsters now.”
I thought you were a Philly blogger, but this sure sounds like Greenpoint Brooklyn to me.
It’s also an accurate description of the Manayunk-Roxborough neighborhood in Philadelphia - which is where my babcie lived.
Susie, don’t argue with your Babcie! Just follow the sounds to the Polish Hall (the one near our place in Chicago did bumper crop business every other Saturday!)
Don’t forget the big Polish festival in Doylestown around Labor Day. You’ll be able to shake your dupa on the dance floor. Na zdrowie!
I’m sorry, but as a true Madrak I have to correct you: she had 49 grandchildren, not 80! She also had 50 great granchildren at the time of her death. I’m sure there are a lot more by now. It’s funny, I’ve been thinking a lot about Grandmom lately. She must be watching over the whole lot and giving us the occasional nudge to let us know she’s here.
[...] “But it’s not a dance,” I said. “My grandmother said it would be a dance. With costumes.” [...]
[...] where I grew up. The streets are immaculate, and the row houses are all decorated for Halloween. Oh, and it’s a Polish neighborhood. I suppose if it looks like anything, it looks like parts of Brooklyn. (I’m hoping it’s [...]