A True Patriot

My father-in-law loved the “New Country”, as he often referred to America.  John and his future wife were taken by the Germans from his homeland of Ukraine during WWII to labor on a working farm that supplied the German army.  When the war ended, he married Katherine and then faced a choice that would define the rest of their lives.  Katherine, preferred to go back to the Old Country.  John was insistent that he did not want to return.  From that point, they struggled with either Australia or the USA.  The small city of Amsterdam, NY held some good advantages.  The carpet mills and clothing factories provided jobs.  Some of their friends and acquaintances from Germany and the Ukraine had already settled here.  That certainty assured them of an existing  community to become a part of, soon after their arrival in The Land of Promise.  The decision was made and they began an adventurous journey to a new locale and a new life.  I’ll always be grateful they chose Amsterdam.

John was proud to be a citizen of the U.S., although he never lost his affection for his homeland of Ukraine.  He was nationalistic to the core and had nothing but disdain for Russia.  When asked about his heritage, people would often say “You’re Ukrainian?  Isn’t that the same as Russian?”.  I can’t think of a greater insult to him.  He would quickly correct them and leave no ambiguity in his views of what was then the USSR.  The Bolsheviks came to power under Lenin the same year John was born.  He always considered the Czarists’ rule a time of relative comfort in Ukraine.  Conversely, having grown up under Joseph Stalin’s rule caused his abhorrence for Communism, socialism, and all that those systems stood for.  John was a young teenager when Stalin caused the starvation of 3.9 million Ukrainians.  That era become known as the Holodomor, a combination of the Ukrainian words for “starvation” and “to inflict death”.  Stalin did this to exact as much pain as possible on the Ukrainian people by shifting the small farms in Ukraine to state-owned collectives.  The Ukrainians were a thorn in Stalin’s side because of their love for independence.

Prior to the Russian control and influence over Ukraine beginning in the late 18th century, there were the Cossacks.  They were among the fiercest horseman ever known.  Their fighting abilities became legendary.  They were particularly feared for their stealthiness and the ability to disappear after they attacked. Because of their equestrian skills, many Ukrainian and Russian warlords hired the as mercenaries.  Their horsemanship was incredible.  They trained themselves to control their horses with their legs, leaving their hands free to do battle with the enemy.  They would lean over the sides of the horse and fire weapons or shoot arrows from underneath the horse’s belly.  Some Cossacks immigrated to the US in the early 20th century.  It is said that their skills gave rise to trick riding as seen in modern rodeos.

The Ukrainians have never been a nation to be trifled with.  They will never roll over to any despot, king or authoritarian government.  They are a proud and loyal people.  Proud of their heritage and loyal to their fellow countrymen.  The Russians have tried to bury their language, steal their national identity and erase their culture since the Bolshevik revolution in 1918.

John was a hard-working, humble man of modest means who instilled a respect for their heritage on his four kids.  They spoke Ukrainian, not Russian.  Katherine kept the traditional holidays and lovingly cooked the food that reflected those customs.  I called him Tato, Ukrainian for Dad.   Tato’s loyalty to his heritage, his New Country and his family never wavered.  When his time on earth was drawing to an end, not much more than a month before he passed, he asked his oldest daughter who she would be voting for in the upcoming presidential election.  Olga answered honestly and he said that he had decided to cast his ballot for the same man.  Voting was his civic duty and he wanted to fulfill it.  He was not a partisan by anyone’s definition.  In his infamous, heavily accented English, he often made the astute political observation: “Democrats, Republicans, all crooks.”  A wise man of unfiltered honesty.

Tato’s views of his New Country and the freedom it afforded his fellow countrymen from the yoke Communist Russia, was shared among his friends in their new home of Amsterdam.  They became a “family of friends”. Many had left their immediate and extended family members back in the Soviet Union after the war only to soon find themselves to be quite alone, had it not been for those who had joined them in fleeing the rapidly expanding socialist state.

Not long after being settled in the Mohawk Valley, in the mid 60’s they formed the Ukrainian-American Citizens Club, constructing a building that would be a home-away-from-home to gather, sharing old times and celebrating life together.  A few years later, Olga and i would have our wedding reception in that wonderful little building on Teller Street.

Whenever Tato’s generation gathered to celebrate a joyous event, their nationalism would be on full display.  Songs of the Old Country were commonplace at most any occasion.  We were at a wedding when a group of around eight men gathered together in the middle of the dance floor, formed a circle and began to sing.  We can’t recall the song but they all sang it with fervor, by that I mean really loud and passionately.  When they finished their a’cappalla strain, I saw Olga’s dad pull a white handkerchief from his lapel pocket.  Not one of them attempted to hide the tears.  Tears of remembrance.  Tears that reminded them of friends and family in a land and at a time, fading in distant memories.

The Ukrainian National Anthem, as translated: