More fun than a pipe and a glass of scotch

Pol-stalgia

2004-10-03 | 9:18 p.m.

My father's property in the Rybalty in Poland has been abandoned for some time; however, our family cemetery and family chapel still remain, and are at least some sort of standing testament to the legacy of the Rybaltowski family. My mother's family, of course, was displaced from their initial estate (in the Werpechy, which I believe are in present-day Lithuania) a long time ago, and so my grandparents on my mother's side are located outside this little town called Szepietowo, on a little ten-hectare estate, complete with a cozy cottage, barn, stable and a small forest. The cottage itself (which my grandparents will not sell, preferring to leave it to me for my adulthood) is a sturdy home made of thick brick; the furnishings quaint and pleasing to the eye. There is a small wood-burning stove, and no central heating or air conditioning, but the cottage does have electricity. The cottage is bordered by a cluster of gooseberry bushes, a dirt road, a chicken coop and a small open middle-ground; a small hatchet in a tree trunk in that ever-quaint reminder that mornings begin with chopping wood.
This very crudely presented scene is the subject of a great deal of yearning on my part. A vast majority of my 'dreams' somehow center around this idyllic scene; being able to light a bonfire at night as a social event; being able to stand in the middle of a veritable ocean of gold, wheat swaying in the cool breeze; being able to look out to the horizon and not having your view obscured by buildings or power lines; looking up at the night sky without its pall of light pollution and seeing the stars for what they truly are. I don't consider myself a romantic in the 'nature' sense, but the sheer wonder of being in a quaint little paradise such as that are often in my mind. One of my most vivid fantasies is that of amassing a fortune, finding a nice Polish girl and moving with her to the Polish countryside for the rest of my life. True, such a life would be quite isolated; but with transportation, any social event could be arranged. Nothing, though, can compare to bearing witness to the true glory of nature year-round with a loved one. This, dear readers (however few people can be counted as such), is the ideal for me.

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	Pol-stalgia 2004-10-03 \| 9:18 p.m. My father's property in the Rybalty in Poland has been abandoned for some time; however, our family cemetery and family chapel still remain, and are at least some sort of standing testament to the legacy of the Rybaltowski family. My mother's family, of course, was displaced from their initial estate (in the Werpechy, which I believe are in present-day Lithuania) a long time ago, and so my grandparents on my mother's side are located outside this little town called Szepietowo, on a little ten-hectare estate, complete with a cozy cottage, barn, stable and a small forest. The cottage itself (which my grandparents will not sell, preferring to leave it to me for my adulthood) is a sturdy home made of thick brick; the furnishings quaint and pleasing to the eye. There is a small wood-burning stove, and no central heating or air conditioning, but the cottage does have electricity. The cottage is bordered by a cluster of gooseberry bushes, a dirt road, a chicken coop and a small open middle-ground; a small hatchet in a tree trunk in that ever-quaint reminder that mornings begin with chopping wood. This very crudely presented scene is the subject of a great deal of yearning on my part. A vast majority of my 'dreams' somehow center around this idyllic scene; being able to light a bonfire at night as a social event; being able to stand in the middle of a veritable ocean of gold, wheat swaying in the cool breeze; being able to look out to the horizon and not having your view obscured by buildings or power lines; looking up at the night sky without its pall of light pollution and seeing the stars for what they truly are. I don't consider myself a romantic in the 'nature' sense, but the sheer wonder of being in a quaint little paradise such as that are often in my mind. One of my most vivid fantasies is that of amassing a fortune, finding a nice Polish girl and moving with her to the Polish countryside for the rest of my life. True, such a life would be quite isolated; but with transportation, any social event could be arranged. Nothing, though, can compare to bearing witness to the true glory of nature year-round with a loved one. This, dear readers (however few people can be counted as such), is the ideal for me. Yesterday's news \| Tomorrow's headlines