Autobiography Chapter 3 Draft:
Barbara Ann Nowak World Rights
Chapter 3
As I mentioned before I had double pneumonia and either nearly died or did die but fully restored miraculously, even according to the Jewish doctor’s admission, when I was 2 years old. My Grandpa Valentine died, May 16, 1949, and money was from a little insurance policy. I remember Mama’s words when she wanted me to behave, “You owe your life to me. I had to spend the money we inherited on doctor and hospital bills to save your life from double pneumonia.” But she never knew that it was neither the doctor nor hospital that saved me. But a miracle!
Grandpa Kopaczewski, former Polish Russian general, was a tough grandfather and ruled over Daddy, Mama and our big family, in our little home. There were only 2 bedrooms, 1 toilet, no bath, unless one considers the one in basement filled with crawling spiders we called Daddy Long Legs, a pull chain toilet that no one would use, and we used a folding bed in the dining room, and I often slept on floor until Daddy left for work at 4 a.m. and Mama would bring me in bed with her. I actually slept with her until I was 22 years old. Just as Elvis used his Mama as his best and only friend, so did I until I got married, and then we parted company.
Grandpa K didn’t tolerate disrespect or misbehavior from our very creative and rambunctious large bunch of kids our nickname was “Coxey’s Army.” For when Daddy and Mama walked into to a reception, we would trail behind like the famous army. Here’s from Wikipedia.org on that famous protesting group of the late 1890’s.
Through my families’ oral tradition, they told me that Grandpa K was a disciplinarian. Once when my siblings and I were playing “Monopoly” he told us to be quiet for he needed some rest. We ignored him and disrespected him and continued to play. He bolted up, grabbed the Monopoly board, Treasure Chest yellow cards, orange Chance cards, all the phony money, and viciously threw it into the fire of the stove heating our little home! He told us to march to bed, and we did. But then he was a former Polish Russian General
Another time, he was outside where there was a litter of ferule kittens running around without their mother. Apparently, once human hands touched the kittens, the mother away and deserted them. Grandpa Kopaczewski, former Polish Russian general, then started to dig a hole as we children watched in speculation. And one by one he dropped the newborn kittens in and buried them alive. He asserted loudly: “A baby animal is worthless without the mother’s milk!” I shudder today and perhaps that is why I breastfed when no one else did, hanging on to his words of wisdom of the importance of mother’s milk.
Mama said that Grandpa Kopaczewski wrote in the front pages of the Bible where our ancestors wrote down prophecies down as well as ancestry these sayings: “The yellow man will rule the world” and “When the end time comes there will be so few people on earth, a human will walk miles and miles before they see even another footprint of another man!” Since those were probably written when before he came from Poland around 1902 according to 1930 census, he really was a prophet, for in 1902, yellow Chinese were living in abject poverty in mere pagodas, and now are the #1 economy of the world. Also, today, I live in a reality where I go days upon days, months upon months, before I come in contact with another White person that shares my urgency of saving the White species, for all other races have a system set up to survive, while ours genocide us and take over USA our formerly White home!
“Commander Coxey’s Army
Posted by H2O Man in General Discussion (1/22-2007 thru 12/14/2010)
Mon Feb 19th 2007, 08:51 PM
“The Constitution of the United States guarantees to all citizens the right to peaceably assemble and petition for redress of grievances, and furthermore declares that the right of free speech shall not be abridged.” – Jacob S. Coxey; May 1, 1944; Washington, DC.”
Later in life, I would follow my brother that was a leader that protested abortions, and I would protest the injustices brought upon the White species for White Rights, but was shut down by Federal agents, black churches, Obama’s brand new government authorities just two days after his election, hotel chains, Jews of Hollywood, etc.
But protests were far from Mama and Daddy’s minds. Their heavenly bliss with the large family promoted bliss all around them. I remember Mama would take me to the poultry store, which is now called “Free Range chickens” on 88th and Commercial in South Chicago. I remember as she held my hand, when we walked in not only the smell of the poultry, but the fragrance and feel of the sawdust beneath our feet. If Mama made extra money we ate. She would pick out the best chickens by their feet for those made the best chicken soup, with her homemade noodles. She loved the capon chickens which now cost $40 a piece, for they were plumper once the butcher removed the testicles. It’s where she got her ducks too- live ones!
Mama would bring the live duck home as it quacked the mile and a half that we walked into our very modern neighborhood that was gobbling TV dinners that were processed with loads of chemicals. When I was younger, Mama made most of our food from scratch. Today, 60 years later, I make all my food from scratch, mostly without preservatives, color additives or other chemicals. Since I never had toys, I thought the white duck looked like Donald Duck, and I couldn’t wait to tell my friends. I’d play on the floor with “Donald” and he would poop and pee and my slave sister, Rose-o-day would get on her hands and knees and clean it up right away. Then Mama suddenly whisked the duck by the back of the neck and headed to the guillotine on the back porch. I was crying for I didn’t know what she was going to do. Then I watched in horror, as she took bent the White duck’s neck back, slit it with a razor and poured the blood into a soup pot. She then cut up the duck into pieces, feathered it for a feather tick quilt, and burned the left over hairs on the gas stove. She put the pieces into the pot, added prunes, apples, onions, and half and half and boiled my only friend and playmate for dinner that night. But it was “blood” and I suppose B12 and Iron girls and women needed desperately in child-bearing years for embryo and breast milk for healthy children naturally.
Mama was not one to go to doctors. Perhaps something terrible happened that she kept secret unto her grave. She would try all kinds of alternative medicines and I would remember her often lying in bed sick, exhausted, in pain, and praying to God, “God my healer, heal me.” Then get up and continue her daily strife as slaves for Jews.
Mental videos flash through my mind, recalling the days of Daddy and Mama’s bliss. They would attend church regularly, although Daddy went for 6 a.m. Mass, and Mama went later. She couldn’t compete with the other ladies hats, beautiful coats and dresses, but it never seemed to bother her, or us. We were high on life, but also we remembered Jesus’ suffering at the hands of Jews on Good Friday’s services before Easter. If one reads the New Testament and substitutes words as “Pharisee, Jew, Scribes, elders, lawyers, Sanhedrin, or the pronouns “they” or “them” that go with it, you will see the Jews persecuting Jews for 3 years, threatening to kill him, and attempting to kill him, even until the end. But Jesus was resurrected on Easter Sunday and was victorious over them. Yet today, I don’t believe we have to die as Whites to get that victory, for we can solve our problems while alive.
On holidays, such as Easter, we would have baskets filled with Mama’s freshly ground Polish sausage, horseradish, pumpernickel bread and colored eggs. Sometimes even an Easter’s lamb as I made also.
Christmas’ at the Nowak’s was festive with Polish and Catholic religious celebrations. It would start with advent which would be a time to prepare for Jesus’ birthday, December 25. Usually, I would make a sacrifice to God and deprive myself of something physical as a way of being more spiritual. I would give up candy and sweets. (surely wish I could do that today as many of us might think with diets.)
The house had to be sparkly clean and every Saturday, my sister Vika, short for Victory, as in Our Lady of Victory where Daddy worked earlier, and would head the sister’s cleaning brigade and get the cleaning supplies out. The girls would be on our hands and knees scrubbing and cleaning. My sister Marcha would make a game of cleaning house where she would write each chore on a scrap of white paper and put it in a brown paper bag. We would pick one out and that was the chore we did first for that day. My brothers would be out working or playing sports, for in a Polish family, the boys got education and girls were to support the family and be baby breeders, which was my main destiny although not my only one. Daddy and the boys always bought a real green fir-tree and the fresh outdoor smell transcended the mind to a forest instead of the urban pollution of the city where we lived by the steel mills. Thinking back to when I worked in the office at US Steel, a good paying union job with benefits, I remember having to walk through “red air.” There was so much smoke coming out of the largest steel plant in the world that we never thought of having to walk through it to get to our job!
My family would decorate with old glass ornaments, not the expensive ones, and Brother Eddie would buy a box of $.10 tinsel and decorate the tree so beautifully, strand by strand, that it looked like a work of art! I once saw in Las Vegas boutiques some Polish hand blown Christmas ornaments from our White history, and they are the most beautiful things you have ever seen!
I remember as I look back for the “good” times to help handle the “bad times,” that the Christmas of 1959 was the best one we ever had. I had a job as a baby sitter for the people upstairs. My brother worked most of the time but when he couldn’t work, I took loving care of the children and even newborn baby. Now, I needed that money almost as much as I needed the air I’m breathing for we were so poor. I should have spent it on myself, at least bought some food, but instead I marched right to the bank and put it away in a Christmas Club. At the end of the year, the bank sent me a check for $13.62, and I was higher than kite. For the first time in my life, I had money, but didn’t want any of it myself.
So I meandered off to Woolworth 5 & 10 cent store, and I splurged the entire cashed check on my Mama and Daddy, siblings, their spouses, and our new nieces and nephews! I don’t know if it made them happy, for the items were small, but I felt like a million dollars and it brings joy to my heart today!
I bought Mama Blue Waltz perfume, with had a little Gold heart for a cap of the bottle. I always bought Daddy Pall Mall cigarettes for all the holidays and if he died partly from cancer, I am guilty unknowingly for all the cancer sticks I gave to him. Although we were so poor he smoked something called Bull Durham and Daddy rolled his own cigarettes for about 6 cents a package. I bought little make up items for the ladies and stocking for the men and toys for the nieces and nephews. That year, Brother Eddie counted and we had 100 presents under the tree, and I probably bought the most even though I was so young!
We sang Christmas Carols, Polish ones, and I just love them even until today. It is a nice feeling to get in touch with White roots even if one is a mixed White for most have one race that is predominant. And one year, I even got to go Christmas Caroling from door to door with another Polish blonde little girl. I remember when I was younger one of my girlfriends told me that I was the “best” girlfriend they had ever had in their life.
One of my favorite past times during the short period we had TV, was the Walt Disney Mickey Mouse Club! In fact, I was elected president of our neighborhood branch and we’d wear the ears and sing the songs.
The 5th grade class elected me President of my class of St. Mary Magdalene’s Polish Grammar School. There were about 52 students in each class! It was such an honor and was so elated. I look back fondly as I reminiscence an entertainment skit I arranged for the class. It was a parody on an old TV show, “What’s My Line,” where the panel has to guess what the occupation of the contestant was. I chose some kids with unusual qualities and then gave them an occupation. For example, there was a White Polish-American boy who loved to sing. He’d sing outdoors, he’d sing while he walked, he just, sang, sang, sang. I gave him an occupation of “lounge singer” for the class to guess. I then had him sing a song for the class, the first time he ever sang for an attentive and appreciative audience. I saw him at my Class Reunion in 1992, at St. Mary Magdalene’s School and we talked afterwards. He told me that I not only inspired him but he continued to sing confidently. So much so, that when his family takes a vacation from Chicago all the way to Disney World, an 18 hour trip, he sings the entire time, back and forth. He also mentioned he sings karaoke as I do, and clued me in on a Japanese place downtown where their big CEO’s from auto and electronic industries go to let off steam and have fun. Karaoke is good for stress and good for motivation.
There was a girl in my class, that was terribly jealous of me, and what did I really have for anyone to be jealous of when I was so poor? Nonetheless she started a campaign against me, spreading rumors, lies and inciting them to riot practically. My sin? I loved others. But isn’t that what Jesus taught us to “love one another.” After all, I was in a Christian school that would be the best place to practice what one preaches. She cruelly said that I wanted everyone to like me, but the truth was, I loved everyone, and still do somewhat today. She didn’t let up until she went to the nun and said she wanted me impeached and she wanted to run. It was shattering for first the kids put me up with endorsement and the same kids, under a jealous girl’s provoking and “pumping” Mama would call it brought me down. She became President but I clearly recall that for the entire year she did nothing and it was not like having a new President at all. I don’t think kids realize how they scar others, especially those that love them. She invited me to her birthday party, and I was able to get $.50 to go to the holy store and bought her a ring with the Immaculate Conception of Mary on it. Perhaps she didn’t like it, but I did and bought one for myself.
Although we had a little home for all of us, every Saturday we’d join together and clean the house, scrubbing on our knees, polishing the old furniture. The boys would begin to play musical instruments from the money they made at child labor as stock boys for the corner liquor store, Kelly’s. They started as young as 8 or 9. The girls of the family would sing together like the Lennon sisters. They had good harmony and it filled the old home with laughter, musical notes, the smell of Pine Sol, Fels Naphta soap. I didn’t sing for I took the “vow of silence.” But I sure listened and made a great audience and fan of theirs. Brother John, played the guitar and sang. Brother Eddie played the guitar, harmonica, accordion. Although he passed away recently, before he died he cut a wonderful CD with all original music and lyrics. He also was an English teacher and wrote many plays which he had the children perform in his 30 years there. Brother Nicky also was an English teacher, tennis pro and tennis teacher and played the drums and guitar! Both wrote a play and autobiography respectively and mine will be the third about growing up in a large family!
Mama and Daddy also would dance around the living room. Mama would dance the “Apple Jack” and she’d sing gospel songs at other times. Her favorite simple prayer out loud with her arms stretched up to heave was “God my healer, heal me.” The house just exploded with creativity, and since I had no toys, I had to make things with my hands.
But in each large family of most European ethnicities, there was a “slave” girl who never went to school and that was my sister Rose-o-day, who didn’t graduate grammar school to stay home and help Mama with washing, ironing, cleaning. She wanted to become a nun like St. Rose de Lima, who did those chores in a convent.
After the dilapidated house was clean and shiny, Daddy and Mama would have company over. Uncle Johnny, Daddy’s brother and his new second wife, Auntie Babe, would come over for pinochle, and today, I think they are still doing that in heaven, while perhaps enlightening me at the same time at my keyboard. Once in a while, they would go for a romantic date for Friday fish fry at the local tavern.
It was my second birthday, and Mama told me that Grandpa loved me very much. He bought me a dress for he wanted me to look pretty for that day, and he prayed out loud to God, “Please let me live long enough to see her in that dress.” I guess I was wearing rags or hand me downs from older brothers who were rugged on their clothes. And Grandpa wanted to see me like a lady. God listened to his prayers and as Mama dressed me, he was delighted to see me dressed up as a pretty young girl. Later in life, when I dressed up, Mama was my only fan, and I can still hear her words, “Barbara Ann, you look like a million dollars today.”
But Grandpa K who helped support us had died suddenly on August 26, 1949, 5 days after my 2nd birthday. And that was the beginning of the end of Mama’s 19 year perfectly sculptured large family marital bliss, sex and joy.
Mama said to me that before Grandpa died, her sister swindled her from the house they lived in that Grandpa owned. Grandpa had his will written to give to Daddy, Mama and the large brood of kids, a home for us to grow up in since we had the biggest family of all his kids, most of which had died already. Mama had painstakingly cared for Grandpa Kopaczewski who we lived with for 10 years, after her work for the rich Jewish women who paid her little, but we needed the money desperately and could not live without it we were totally dependent on them or starve to death. She’d fuss over Grandpa, fluff up his pillows and feed him his favorite Polish meals from the old country of urban Warsaw Poland.
But it was Mama’s Christian White Polish sister that swindled her, and even her daughter told me before she died, that her mother who appeared so holy, was really wicked and not what she seemed to be. Mama’s sister connived a scheme, like when Jacob stole Esau’s inheritance in the Bible. My aunt came upstairs where we lived and perhaps fed my grandpa some vodka shots to influence him. She then got on her knees begging him, “Tata, Tata! (Father, Father, in Polish) You sign this home over to me, for I am the oldest.” He was 85 years old and already suffering from heart disease, when he folded up to her demands and signed a paper putting her as the sole owner of the house we lived in, and denied Mama what he promised her when she had this large brood of children for she felt as long as we had a roof over our heads, God would provide. But with a stroke and signature of a pen, Grandpa yielded to Mama’s sister’s pushiness to change the will from Mama and family owning the home we lived in to herself, and she was now the owner of the house on 8332 South Colfax, South Chicago upon Grandpa’s death.
Mama was ignorant of these behind her back dealings with Grandpa Kopaczewski and Mama’s sister. She was still busily caring for him, helping him to the bathroom, holding his large framed body up to walk, which was a chore for Mama was a small woman, but she did it out of her heart and love for him.
When she discovered him dead the same way that Elvis died, on the toilet, she went into a state of shock and depression. Her helpmate and father in raising our large White Polish family was gone, and perhaps some extra money for support. The aunt that lived downstairs prepared his wake and placed his coffin in the living room with our dead Grandpa in it. I was told that the children were to climb up on the coffin and give Grandpa a kiss and a hug good-bye, something never seen in politically correct America.
Yet as I look back at the time when I was an accomplished artist, I went to the first Russian exchange which was called Perestroika, which opened up communication with our fellow White Russians even though they were still under Communist control and the democratic United States in the 1980’s. It was near where I grew up at the famous University of Chicago. I attended by invitation by my art teacher who I took private lessons with for seven years, and never forgot the depressing Communist art, which portrayed the White Russians and perhaps my ancestors’ suffering and misery. One painting showed a dead man in a coffin. Another was a war scene, with bloody and dead bodies lying on the ground. The colors were drab and depressing as our fellow Whites in Russian lives must have been but kept behind a silenced population guarded by a rigid Iron Curtain.
I would later find out that had Grandpa stayed in Russia or Poland as a military man he probably would have never lived during the purge of Russia of the Christian White men. It is written that in 1917, a Jewish man named Julius Hammer, broke off from another revolutionary band in Russia to over throw the government and started the Communist party, outlined by Jewish Karl Marx, author of the Communist Manifesto. It was a scheme to promise “equality” for the population, but as George Orwell wrote in Animal Farm, on Communism, which is Jewish domination and rule“All animals are equal but some are more equal than others.”
The Russian government was already wary of Jews for they were using their power and money to destroy the populace through banking, distilleries turning the men and women into drunkards. There were laws in place to prohibit Jews from any revenue on alcohol sales, distribution, advertising and propaganda. In history, the Jews did the same thing to Babylonia when they were living and advising there. They were treasonous and betrayed their host country that gave them a home for many years. Jewish spies alerted the Babylonian enemies, the Persians, of a celebration, where the Babylonians were drunk and overfed on buffets. Then the Persians were able to just walk in with their army and take over Babylonian empire with no resistance for the men were all inebriated, incapacitated and tired.
But Julius Armand, whose son is the famous “Arm and Hammer” king, began to destroy White government, royalty, and Christians in Russia. He used propaganda to start a revolution and turn the people against the government, church and royalty. With his Jewish conspirators, he kidnapped the Czar, Czarina, (White king and queen) their five children, their spiritual healer and lied when the Jews told them it was for their safety from the uprising of the people. The Jewish captors then turned into assassins in the 1917 Russian Revolution, by telling them it was time to take a group phone. The Czar and Czarina, lined up, and positioned their children carefully, and perhaps rearranging them, and when the Jewish photographer said “smile!” the Jew assassins came out and blew them away with bullets and painted the wall and camera lens with their White red blood. The royal daughters didn’t die right away for they had vests on with their jewels sewn in, so the Jews shot them in the head or bayoneted them. The Jews then could rob their corpses of the royal jewels and the Russian people’s treasury as the US has our gold in Fort Knox.
The Jews were behind the uprising as they have been through most of the White revolutions and wars. You don’t see yellow China’s history like this or India’s like this. They are comparatively undamaged and unaffected with a much more promising future than that of the White species.
Well, back here in USA, 1949, it was terribly sad that she mourned for him for days, weeping hysterically and inconsolably for she adored her Daddy, whom she cared for with his favorite Polish meals, playing with all the children around him, propping his pillows so they would be just right.
And then one day, when it seemed as if Mama couldn’t have been any more depressed, the roof fell down over her figuratively when my aunt came upstairs for a little sister to sister chat. It was then my aunt dropped the bomb and shared the news of the changed will, leaving Mama and our large family, out in the cold. Her older sister was now her landlord and Mama went berserk with the fact her own (White Polish) flesh and blood could have stooped so low to go behind her back while Mama was working for Jews, breastfeeding babies, taking care of ailing Grandpa Kopaczewski, lover and wife of Daddy, and sabotaged the will to take the home away from us. At that moment, the entire lot of us was homeless, dependent on my aunt’s whims.
As I drown back in memories’ tears, hurts, angers, I’m thinking it must have been when Mama’s life changed, from the saint, angel, loving, unselfish, caring, giving woman, into a raving maniac.