To shave or not to shave

On my first trip to Poland in 1993 my husband and I decided we would take our collective family of 3 teenage daughters to Europe to meet his family and see his homeland.

It was an incredible trip on many fronts but one day in particular stands out among the rest. We had decided when planning this trip that we wanted to experience the life of an average Pole. Our daughters had it pretty good in the US so we hoped to show them how others might live.

On planning a stay in my husband’s home town of Lodz, his sister a prominent doctor in the area placed a sign in the local church, Catholic of course, asking if anyone would be interested in taking in an American family of 5 for a few nights. One woman responded to her and the plans were made.

We arrived in the city of Lodz in the early afternoon and drove directly to the woman’s home to get everyone settled. My husband and his daughter speak fluent Polish while my daughters and I do not. Well maybe a Polish hello, good bye, kiss me, and I love you but that was the extent of it.

The woman, we’ll call her Pani (woman in Polish) was hanging out the window of her second story apartment anxiously awaiting our arrival. We all waved as we tumbled out of the car and proceeded to climb the stairs of the age old building. Once inside we quickly found that she could not speak any English. Well, it seemed okay at the time as my husband and his daughter were there to translate.

As Pani led us into the one bedroom that the apartment had we noticed that there was only one bed and single at that. We brought all of our luggage in and she proceeded to gather feather comforters from every nook and cranny in the place and pile them on the floor. She told us that this is where the girls would stay.

She brought my husband and I into the living room and pointed to the couch. That was to be our sleeping quarters. Cozy, very cozy. But we were tired and very grateful to have a place to lay our heads. I kept asking my husband where Pani was going to sleep but it was not polite to ask her. So it never entered into the discussion.

Later that night my husband and his family were having a gathering and as they would be primarily speaking Polish, my daughters and I decided to have a quite night off, take baths in the fabulous deep tub and settle into Pani’s home.

We found out that she was a widow and had never encountered Americans before this. She so wanted to communicate with my daughters and I, which ended up being a mix between hand gestures, charades and a lot of pointing. We figured out from Pani putting her fingers to her mouth and saying “peach, peach” that she was asking us if we wanted something to drink. We were able to respond by saying “Tak, prosec” (yes, please) and she was thrilled that we were making an attempt at her language.

My youngest daughter was 12 years old at the time and was reading YM (Young Miss) magazine, I’m not sure it even exists anymore. On the cover was one of the pop stars kissing a girl. Pani noticed this cover; she ripped the magazine out of my daughters’ hands, threw it on the floor and began to stomping on it. I gently said to my daughter, “well, I guess you shouldn’t be reading that magazine” and we quietly chuckled and put the magazine away.

Being American’s we were quite used to bathing daily, something that isn’t so common in this part of Poland. Remember, my daughters are teenagers. I haven’t seen them naked in years; they would run and hide every time I came near them. That being said, they both wanted to shower, but there wasn’t one. We were in a home of a woman that only had a bath. So bath it was. First the older one went in and Pani went in right behind her. I thought I was going to pee my pants knowing the hysteria that my daughter must have been feeling. Next my youngest. She at the time had these long, finger curl locks of brown hair that is just not common in Poland. As she got into the tub, Pani of course right behind her put her hands onto her head and started speaking Polish. My daughter called out to me and I went in to see how I could help. Pani was looking at me, scratching her head and then pointing to my daughter who was naked in the tub and totally mortified. I told my daughter that Pani wanted to touch her hair and wash it. Oh no, touch her hair, see her naked…this was a day for the history books. So. I stayed with them in the bathroom as Pani rambled on rubbing my daughters beautiful curly locks.

After this traumatic experience everyone was ready for bed, well almost. I had the bright idea that while everyone was sound asleep I could sneak into the bathroom to shave my legs. Another American tradition. But yet again, once I had my leg up on the side of the sink, standing in a t-shirt and underwear the door opened and there stood Pani. What was she thinking? She again started to ramble on and pulled up her nightgown and took my hand to rub her thigh. Then she took my hand and brought me out into the living room showing me a picture of her and her dead husband. I just could not put two and two together until finally my husband and his daughter arrived back from having dinner with his family and they translated “Why would you take away something that God gave you? God put hair on your legs for a reason.” Even after all this time I’m still not sure what that reason might be but her comments have stuck with me and it does make me think now and again, “What else do I dismiss that God gave me?”

Later that night once the lights were out and all was quite, I whispered in my husband’s ear “Where is Pani?” He quietly got up and much to our surprise she was asleep on the floor by the door to her apartment. I told him that he must wake her up and we would take the floor and she should sleep on the couch. So…he woke her up. She kindly looked into his eyes and said “A guest in my house is like having God in the house, you will take the couch. I will gladly take the floor.” Still when I think of that night and how unconditionally giving this woman was it brings tears to my eyes, she passed away several years ago. None of us will ever forget her.

Kindness is a gift we all have. Making others feel welcomed doesn’t cost anything, it only takes us to be present in the moment and think of others first.

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