21. 1. 09

I have on many occasions reflected on how often serendipity enters our lives. For example the fact that I retained a basic knowledge of the Polish language from my parents provided me with a unique opportunity in 1973. In that year the Yom Kippur War broke out in the Middle East. Canada and Poland were selected to provide the logistics roll for a large United Nations peacekeeping force that involved about a dozen nations. A call went out in the Canadian Forces for a Polish speaking officer and I was one of two that Canada had. On Friday my commanding officer asked me whether I was interested in joining the force - on Monday I found myself on an aircraft to Cairo. I became the adjutant to the Canadian commanding general and the liaison officer to the Polish contingent which was a airborne battalion. Two months into the tour an AP correspondent wanted to do a story about how Canada and Poland were working together to fulfill their UN mandate. He was put in my care and I introduced him to many of the Polish officers that by now had become my close friends an co-workers. A week before, my father had sent me a letter that in part said "thirty years ago this month I came to the Middle East to win a war now you have come to the same place to win a peace". I happened to show this letter to the correspondent and unbeknownst to me he wrote a long human interest story that was picked up by most of the large newspapers in Canada. The local newspaper in Thunder Bay found and interviewed my father about his service in the 2nd Polish Corps and together with two pictures that he provided (one of him in a Polish uniform and one of me in a Canadian uniform) we made the front page. My father often refers to that time as one of his proudest moments.

Another serendipitous moment occurred in Jerusalem when I happened to take lunch at a restaurant near the Wailing Wall. The proprietor, interested in my uniform, engaged me in conversation. I recounted a story my father told me about an eatery in old town Jerusalem that was most unusual. Instead of receiving a bill after a meal and paying the cashier on the way out, the proprietor positioned himself at a desk at the exit and asked each departing customer what he had to eat or drink and charged the amount accordingly. What struck my father about this was the degree of trust that the proprietor attributed to his customers. He never disputed the customer's accounting and although he must have been cheated on occasion, by far most people declared honestly. The young man I was talking to listened to me in astonishment then suddenly bolted upstairs and brought his aging father down to me. I soon found out that where I was now taking my meal was the same place that served my father 30 years ago. Although it was too much to expect the old man to remember my father he certainly remembered fondly the Polish Forces that regularly ate in his establishment. He told me many stories about that period and before I left located a dusty old bottle of "Spirytus" that although sealed in wax had mostly evaporated away. We cracked the bottle and toasted an inter-generational reunion.

Finally one more story on this same theme, so bear with me. In 1969 I was a student at the University of Toronto and I would spend most summers working and travelling through Mexico. On one occasion in Acapulco I placed a call home and was wishing my mother a happy birthday over a phone in a hotel lobby. I noticed a man sitting a short distance away from me having a coffee and very often looking in my direction. After the call he approached me and asked in perfect Polish "what was a young Pole doing so far from home". We sat down and started talking and soon I was relating the fact that I had a grandmother and three aunts in Zamosc, Poland. I had met my grandmother only once when I was ten when she had visited Thunder Bay. The gentleman asked what my grandmother's name was and I replied Stasiewicz. He asked "Rozalia Stasiewicz" and I said I don't know - I only knew her as "Babcia". But in describing her and relating what little I knew of her history it became apparent that he indeed probably knew my grandmother. This was later proven to be a fact. A small world - a very small world!

Regards,

Toni