I don’t remember my Grandpa Markowski, my mother’s father, but I had heard the story, many times, of how he was with me to witness my first steps. He died a few months after I had turned one – on November 25, 1950.
I don’t know much about his life, either, but I bring to mind my own thoughts about how life was for him after he immigrated to the United States. He worked in a foundry in Milwaukee. He returned to Ukraine – which would soon be swallowed whole into what was the Soviet Union – to bring his wife, my grandmother, Feodosia, to the United States. I know that many immigrants left family in the Old Country, never to see them again, to start a new family. In his new country, Vlas Markov Srebny would lose his name, to take up a name more easily understood: Alex Markowski. When I return now to stand at the grave at the cemetery on the north side of Milwaukee where he and my grandmother – her name in the new country was Frances – are buried, only the name he acquired in his new land remains. I’m always saddened to think of this. It’s a common story, I’m sure.
These past few days, I’ve been sifting through old pictures again. I like to look at them from time to time. During the early days of COVID, I spent several days sitting in our yard, sorting through several large boxes of pictures. I got as far as grouping them into decades. I think that’s as far as I’ll go with them. I’d been looking for a particular photo of my mother and my brother Ronnie, but I didn’t find the one I was looking for.
I did find a treasure this time. I’m not sure how I missed it before.
In my mother’s handwriting, two yellowed pieces of paper, apparently torn from a notebook, maybe a notebook intended for family history.
“Alex Markowski was born Vlas Markov Srebny on February 11, 1881. He was born in Kiev, Ukraine. In 1903, he joined the Army. Also, he married Feodosia Maksuda in 1903. Of this marriage were born Ivan ((John), George, Michael, Mary and Hannah, and Peter. Of these, only John, Michael, Mary, Hannah and Pete remain.
He came to America via Boston, Mass., and the Great Lakes to Milwaukee in June, 1910. He returned to Ukraine in the year and returned to America with his wife.
He received naturalization papers on May 25, 1943.
He taught himself to read and write. He was always alerted to the affairs of the entire world.
May he rest in peace.
On Saturday, November 25, 1950 at 8:30 Dad collapsed on North Eleventh and West Reservoir. It was a very cold day which stimulated his heart. Added to this, he climbed up and down three flights of stairs, and bucked a sharp wind up a steep hill, where he collapsed. He passed away immediately.
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