"In the collection of objects included on this site, PAHA hopes to engage with the history of Polish Americans, but also to reflect on the phenomenology of objects. The objects tell the stories of people who traveled across the Atlantic. Most of the objects were to help them fulfill their dreams of remaking their lives anew far away from home. While they symbolize the importance of the home left behind, they also testify to the Polish immigrants’/people’s efforts to imbue a new home with significance. One of the first stories that grabbed our hearts – the story that is included on the website – was the story of a photo from a grandfather’s passport – a terrific example of how some objects, with time, take on a separate life from the one that served their creation; and how many of them now play a role in the lives of future generations. The relationship between us and objects is fluid – they affect our lives, but we also change their purpose. The passport was a tool that helped the grandfather’s transition, but with time, for the younger generations, it became the symbol of that transition, and also a link to the past. Photos of objects send a message of the power of human agency, but also of an individual’s daily life – daily gestures of care that nourish the connection with the past for the future."
More information:
http://polishamericanstudies.org/text/38/objects-that-speak.html
Below we reprint one of the posts from the site.
Zither of a Compassionate Dreamer
Taylor Lenze (with the help of Henrietta Nowakowski and Anna Muller)
The strummed notes of a zither are striking and clear, overlapping one another in harmony and vibrating in the wooden hollow of the soundbox. The curved, wooden, string instrument, somewhat like a gentler-sounding harpsichord with additional guitar strings, and the ability to play music on it has been vastly forgotten today. For Henrietta Nowakowski, however, the zither (cytra, she calls it) was always a touchstone of her life.
For Nowakowski, the zither was a part of her mother (Aniela Zapytowski’s) identity, a symbol of her dreams. It’s story began earlier though, tracing back beyond Nowakowski’s memory to her maternal grandparents, Aniela’s parents.
Nowakowski never met her grandparents. She knows that her mother’s father took care of horses on an estate. Being a younger son in a family of multiple children, he hadn't inherited land from his own father and instead had to travel with his trade. His wife, [Nowakowski's grandmother], who passed away when little Aniela was 10 or 11 years old, must have been a strong, knowledgeable woman because professionally she was a herbalist. People came from all over her region to be cured by her.
After Aniela’s mother’s death, her father remarried. Aniela’s youngest sister was most impacted by the changing circumstances and was mistreated by her new stepmother. Eventually she couldn’t bear it, and at 16, set out for on a journey in hopes of a new life in America, a monumental decision for a young person without question, but one which would have ripple effects throughout the entire family and future generations.
This determination and courage, shared by late mother and youngest daughter is also apparent in Aniela’s story. Aniela, a middle daughter in the five children, was also a strong professional woman, matriarchal, determined and independent. Trained in sewing, Aniela worked in Lwów for an Austrian family as a seamstress and governess. Her hard work and practicality didn’t signify a brevity of imagination, however. Aniela was a dreamer, always thinking of other places and possibilities. In 1913, she and her older sister decided to make a short visit to the youngest sister, traveling by ship in second-class from Bremerhaven to the US where the young woman now lived in Philadelphia. Traveling second (rather than third) class on the ship was a big deal, and only possible because of Aniela’s own efforts and work as a seamstress (Zakład Krawcowy in Lwów). Nowakowski recounts with pride that they paid their own way and must have saved for their passage.
Aniela herself was only 26. The beautiful wooden zither was clearly one of her cherished possessions because she included it among her necessities. Apart from the instrument and some pictures, Nowakowski has just a few other momentos her from her mother's European life. "I also have a picture of dried edelweiss flowers, a souvenir of my mother’s visit to Austria, where she accompanied her Austrian employer," Nowakowski recalls. Aniela once recounted seeing the operetta “The Merry Widow” in the Burg Theatre in Vienna during this trip. Her daughter now deduces that "judging by the time period, it must have been just at the time that this work by Franz Lehar premiered. The card with the dried ‘szarotki’ had to have been important to my mother since I remember that in the late 1940’s, about 30 years later, she went to a lot of effort to have the card beautifully framed. It’s now in my living room." Slowly, by looking at the objects and by going deeper in her memories, Nowakowski begins to piece together the story.
In Philadelphia, Nowakowski knows that the three sisters met up just as the war broke out. Though unexpected and probably not in line with Aniela’s plans for her life, she made the best of the compulsion to stay in the US and fell back on her sewing skills to support herself, finding work as a seamstress. A single woman forced to survive in a foreign country, Aniela could have become hardened and rough by the stress and work, but perhaps it was the zither and her music which allowed her to stay “soft hearted and tender” as Nowakowski remembers. Eventually Aniela moved to Pittsburg, becoming active in the Polish Falcons, a Polish paramilitary organization.
It was here that love struck. At the Pittsburgh Falcon Nest, Aniela met her husband and Henrietta's father, Ignacy Zapytowski. Also from the Lwów area, he had served in the Austrian army and first at age 24 immigrated to America (in 1907). In Pittsburg, he enlisted to go back to Europe and fight with the Polish Army in WWI. This decision stirred turmoil in his family because there was the potential the family would be fighting against itsself.
After his safe return to the US at the conclusion of the war, he and Aniela were married. Both remained very active in Polish military organizations, however. Ignacy’s work brought him to Detroit (where he could use his cabinetmaker skills as a wood model maker for future cars), Aniela assumed directorship of a woman’s group, headquartered in Detroit, which worked to help returning Polish veterans.
The couple had four children, two sons and two daughters. Though busy as a working mother, Aniela still tried to play the zither, actively seeking out sheet music for it, in addition to the ones she brought from Poland. Probably because it was such an uncommon, specific instrument, the only music she had was that which a piano tuner gave her. Assumedly she could not play by ear but relied on written notes.
By the mid 30s Aniela had stopped both working and playing the Zither. It was badly in need of tuning and fixing but there was no one with the necessary knowledge and skills to do the work. This may have been heartbreaking, a tangible severing of Aniela’s connection to her past, home and dreams of returning. But if so, she didn’t express this to her children nor allow it to break her soft spirit and love of music. Even though, from the earliest Nowakowski can remember, the Zither was hidden away out of sight, the house remained full of music and dreams. Nowakowski and her older sister both took piano lessons and practiced on the piano at home, continuing their mother’s tradition.
By this time, Aniela's dreams of returning to Poland were also lovingly put aside like her instrument. Though she and Ignacy had always wished to return home, the depression had wiped out their savings. Based on a copious amount of postcards and letters, it's assumed that Ignacy traveled frequently with work before marriage, but the family was never able to permanently relocate to Poland. Despite this too, Nowakowski recalls how her mother always remained a "very compassionate dreamer," full of softness and hope. Over and over again, Aniela’s strength and grace showed through as she adjusted to circumstances beyond her control and continued on ungrudgingly.
Unfortunately, the instrument hasn't held up as well to hardship. After being stored 15 years in a humid basement, the instrument's wood split beyond repair. Nowakowski recovered the instrument in the 90s when her sister moved to Alaska and has preserved and protected it ever since. Not able to play the Zither herself, she nevertheless cherishes the link it represents for her to her mother’s dreams and desires to learn.
Zither of a Compassionate Dreamer
Taylor Lenze (with the help of Henrietta Nowakowski and Anna Muller)
The strummed notes of a zither are striking and clear, overlapping one another in harmony and vibrating in the wooden hollow of the soundbox. The curved, wooden, string instrument, somewhat like a gentler-sounding harpsichord with additional guitar strings, and the ability to play music on it has been vastly forgotten today. For Henrietta Nowakowski, however, the zither (cytra, she calls it) was always a touchstone of her life.
For Nowakowski, the zither was a part of her mother (Aniela Zapytowski’s) identity, a symbol of her dreams. It’s story began earlier though, tracing back beyond Nowakowski’s memory to her maternal grandparents, Aniela’s parents.
Nowakowski never met her grandparents. She knows that her mother’s father took care of horses on an estate. Being a younger son in a family of multiple children, he hadn't inherited land from his own father and instead had to travel with his trade. His wife, [Nowakowski's grandmother], who passed away when little Aniela was 10 or 11 years old, must have been a strong, knowledgeable woman because professionally she was a herbalist. People came from all over her region to be cured by her.
After Aniela’s mother’s death, her father remarried. Aniela’s youngest sister was most impacted by the changing circumstances and was mistreated by her new stepmother. Eventually she couldn’t bear it, and at 16, set out for on a journey in hopes of a new life in America, a monumental decision for a young person without question, but one which would have ripple effects throughout the entire family and future generations.
This determination and courage, shared by late mother and youngest daughter is also apparent in Aniela’s story. Aniela, a middle daughter in the five children, was also a strong professional woman, matriarchal, determined and independent. Trained in sewing, Aniela worked in Lwów for an Austrian family as a seamstress and governess. Her hard work and practicality didn’t signify a brevity of imagination, however. Aniela was a dreamer, always thinking of other places and possibilities. In 1913, she and her older sister decided to make a short visit to the youngest sister, traveling by ship in second-class from Bremerhaven to the US where the young woman now lived in Philadelphia. Traveling second (rather than third) class on the ship was a big deal, and only possible because of Aniela’s own efforts and work as a seamstress (Zakład Krawcowy in Lwów). Nowakowski recounts with pride that they paid their own way and must have saved for their passage.
Aniela herself was only 26. The beautiful wooden zither was clearly one of her cherished possessions because she included it among her necessities. Apart from the instrument and some pictures, Nowakowski has just a few other momentos her from her mother's European life. "I also have a picture of dried edelweiss flowers, a souvenir of my mother’s visit to Austria, where she accompanied her Austrian employer," Nowakowski recalls. Aniela once recounted seeing the operetta “The Merry Widow” in the Burg Theatre in Vienna during this trip. Her daughter now deduces that "judging by the time period, it must have been just at the time that this work by Franz Lehar premiered. The card with the dried ‘szarotki’ had to have been important to my mother since I remember that in the late 1940’s, about 30 years later, she went to a lot of effort to have the card beautifully framed. It’s now in my living room." Slowly, by looking at the objects and by going deeper in her memories, Nowakowski begins to piece together the story.
In Philadelphia, Nowakowski knows that the three sisters met up just as the war broke out. Though unexpected and probably not in line with Aniela’s plans for her life, she made the best of the compulsion to stay in the US and fell back on her sewing skills to support herself, finding work as a seamstress. A single woman forced to survive in a foreign country, Aniela could have become hardened and rough by the stress and work, but perhaps it was the zither and her music which allowed her to stay “soft hearted and tender” as Nowakowski remembers. Eventually Aniela moved to Pittsburg, becoming active in the Polish Falcons, a Polish paramilitary organization.
It was here that love struck. At the Pittsburgh Falcon Nest, Aniela met her husband and Henrietta's father, Ignacy Zapytowski. Also from the Lwów area, he had served in the Austrian army and first at age 24 immigrated to America (in 1907). In Pittsburg, he enlisted to go back to Europe and fight with the Polish Army in WWI. This decision stirred turmoil in his family because there was the potential the family would be fighting against itsself.
After his safe return to the US at the conclusion of the war, he and Aniela were married. Both remained very active in Polish military organizations, however. Ignacy’s work brought him to Detroit (where he could use his cabinetmaker skills as a wood model maker for future cars), Aniela assumed directorship of a woman’s group, headquartered in Detroit, which worked to help returning Polish veterans.
The couple had four children, two sons and two daughters. Though busy as a working mother, Aniela still tried to play the zither, actively seeking out sheet music for it, in addition to the ones she brought from Poland. Probably because it was such an uncommon, specific instrument, the only music she had was that which a piano tuner gave her. Assumedly she could not play by ear but relied on written notes.
By the mid 30s Aniela had stopped both working and playing the Zither. It was badly in need of tuning and fixing but there was no one with the necessary knowledge and skills to do the work. This may have been heartbreaking, a tangible severing of Aniela’s connection to her past, home and dreams of returning. But if so, she didn’t express this to her children nor allow it to break her soft spirit and love of music. Even though, from the earliest Nowakowski can remember, the Zither was hidden away out of sight, the house remained full of music and dreams. Nowakowski and her older sister both took piano lessons and practiced on the piano at home, continuing their mother’s tradition.
By this time, Aniela's dreams of returning to Poland were also lovingly put aside like her instrument. Though she and Ignacy had always wished to return home, the depression had wiped out their savings. Based on a copious amount of postcards and letters, it's assumed that Ignacy traveled frequently with work before marriage, but the family was never able to permanently relocate to Poland. Despite this too, Nowakowski recalls how her mother always remained a "very compassionate dreamer," full of softness and hope. Over and over again, Aniela’s strength and grace showed through as she adjusted to circumstances beyond her control and continued on ungrudgingly.
Unfortunately, the instrument hasn't held up as well to hardship. After being stored 15 years in a humid basement, the instrument's wood split beyond repair. Nowakowski recovered the instrument in the 90s when her sister moved to Alaska and has preserved and protected it ever since. Not able to play the Zither herself, she nevertheless cherishes the link it represents for her to her mother’s dreams and desires to learn.
