The Polish in Me bubbled out in May when I wrote about a great spot in my memories, a resort in the Catskill Mountains my father Frank reveled in taking our family. I poked around the recesses of my gray matter from more than four decades ago to bring back that time when I was…
My dear wife Karen and I enjoyed the sights, sounds and tastes of the 60th Polish Festival last night in downtown Syracuse’s Clinton Square. No, contrary to a rumor circling the square, I have not been to all of them. Ed, a city firefighter I’ve known for more than two decades, asked me if I…
I look at my father’s face in this photo and I’m struck with two lightning bolts of memory. Frank is happy. Frank is happy because he’s once again brought his family to the tiny Polish resort in the Catskill Mountains of upstate New York. I’m fairly certain I’m the one taking the photo. I think…
my life. what have I got to chauffeur it?
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