My God is God/Your God is the Devil

My God is God/Your God is the Devil

I grew up in a Catholic family.  Went to Catholic schools.  Even thought about being a priest at one time.  

I've always thought about God and how I see Him and how other people -- people who had a totally different world views -- see him.

This sense of the difference between how others see my god and how I view their gods has intensified in the last dozen or so years, especially after 9/11. 

I wrote a poem about it, and I've been thinking about it recently.

Here's the poem -- really two poems.

GODS

1.  My God is God

My God lives in heaven and He lives here

In my heart and the hearts of those around me.

His thoughts are pure and true and gentle, 

and his truest wish is to dream of babies 

playing in water soft as white roses.

When His lips come together in a smile 

The heavens smile too and the rains say

“Goodbye, goodbye, the sun is coming”

And when He smiles men are never hungry 

and their wives have eyes as soft as roses too.

And where my God is, there are no strangers,

only brothers who will take our hands

And kiss our cheeks for luck along the road,

No matter how hard it is, no matter how long.

2. Your God is the Devil

He wears a broken hat and dead men’s clothes

and he comes from a place where men are hungry

and children die in the dirt waiting for dawn.

Nothing your stupid god wishes for comes true:

If he prays for peace he gets cyclones,

twisters that shred his skin like razors

and rain sorrow on all who pray to him.

If he wishes for love among brothers

he gets brothers who spit at each other,

fathers who beat their sons on their weddings days, 

daughters who flaunt their evil shoes and dresses

before their mothers and holy grandmothers.

Your god is a straw thing who fears my boot

And what I can do to him with my hands.

—

The poem appears in my book of poems True Confessions, available from Amazon.

Change

 Change

I start every day the same way.  After getting myself a cup of coffee, I open my iPad and check out my Facebook page.  I start with my memories and then move onto notifications from my Facebook friends and then end up scrolling through the posts that Facebook thinks are right for me.  

If you do Facebook, you know exactly what a lot of these posts are, mainly ads for things Facebook imagines I’ll be interested in.  In my case, it’s generally ads for hearing aids, cruises, or shaving kits.   I tend to scroll through all of this stuff quickly to get to the posts from the pages I’m really interested in.

Today, that’s where I ran into something that stopped me.  On Facebook’s “Growing Up in Chicago” page, I saw a photo of an old CTA bus with two metal trolley poles that stretched up to a pair of parallel, overhead wires.  These trolley buses relied on electricity to transport people. At their peak in the late 1950s, there were about 700 of these electric-powered coaches in Chicago.  That represented about one-quarter of the CTA’s transit vehicles, the others being regular motor buses and old streetcars.  

Seeing that trolley bus photo started me thinking about how Chicago has changed since the 1950s when I was a kid.  I haven’t been to Chicago since 2016 when I did a book tour to promote Echoes of Tattered Tongues, my book of essays and poems about my parents and their experiences in the slave labor camps in Germany and their lives in Chicago after the war.  I spent a week going to bookstores all over the city and reading from my book and autographing copies.  I even did some radio interviews on WBEZ and a Polish radio station.

But probably the most memorable thing that happened was returning to my old neighborhood east of Humboldt Park.  My family lived in that area for almost 23 years, from about 1952 to 1975.

For most of that time, the neighborhood was so Polish that my parents felt almost like they were back in Poland.  St. Fidelis, our local parish, had five priests.  All of them spoke Polish.  In fact, one of the priests, like us, came over as a Displaced Person after World War II.  He  could barely speak English.  The nuns at my school were all Polish Americans who spoke perfect Polish.  My parents felt right at home going to masses that were all in Polish and talking to the sisters in Polish about what a good boy I was.  

But that’s not all my parents loved about the neighborhood.  They loved the fact that about half the people on our block were either recent Polish immigrants or Polish immigrants from before the war.  Having lost so many family members and friends because of the war, my parents loved talking in Polish to these neighbors about the world they had left behind and the world they now lived in.  

My parents also loved shopping on Division Street.  The butcher shops, bakeries, clothing stores, restaurants, hardware stores, and taverns there were either run by Poles or had workers who spoke perfect Polish.   My parents loved going into places with signs on their windows that said, “Mówimy po Polsku.”

But then all of that changed just the way the CTA trolley buses changed.  By 1973 those 700 CTA trolley buses were gone, replaced by gas-powered buses.  And by 1975 when we moved out of that neighborhood, its Polishness hadn't disappeared, but there was less and less of it.  

Probably the biggest cause for the change was that St. Fidelis Church was demolished in 1968 because of structural problems.  The parish school eventually also closed its doors.  Another factor that contributed to the decline in Polishness was the fact that many of the Poles and Polish Americans in the neighborhood were starting to make more money and were moving into better neighborhoods.  A third cause was probably the increase of violence in the neighborhood stemming from Hispanic gangs.  On my block of Evergreen Street, five houses, including our home, were burned down by the gangs.

By 1975 when my parents finally moved out of the Humboldt Park area, it didn’t feel like the Poland they had been dragged out of by the Germans during the war, and it didn’t feel like the Polonia they had discovered when they first moved to Chicago in 1952.  My mother missed talking to her neighbors about how walking through Humboldt Park in the evening reminded her of what it was like growing up in a forest in eastern Poland before the war, and my father missed sitting with the other dipisi in a bar and sharing his memories of the war.  

The world had changed for them, just as it had changed for the other Poles and Polish Americans in our neighborhood, and just as it will continue to change for all of us.

We can’t stop that change.  

All we can hope to do is remember.

—

My most recent column for the Dziennik Zwiazkowy, the oldest Polish newspaper in America.

If you’re interested in seeing more of my columns about Chicago, check out my book Who I Am: Lives Told in Kitchen Polish, available at Amazon or from me.

Subhumans in America

 Subhumans in America

As the son of Polish immigrants—people who survived the hell of Nazi forced labor camps—I grew up with a deep conviction that words carry immense weight. My parents were told by the Germans that they and so many non-Germans were nothing more than mules.  My parents also heard themselves and the other people in the labor camps described as untermensch, a term meaning subhumans. 

This was a key pillar of German racial ideology.  Jews, Roma (Gypsies), and Slavic peoples (such as Poles, Ukrainians, Russians, and Belarusians) as well as persons with disabilities and Black individuals were all seen as being subhuman. This term wasn’t simply an insult.  It was used to strip specific groups of their humanity.  By defining certain groups of people as biologically inferior, the Nazi regime created the moral and legal justification for mass expulsion, enslavement, and extermination.  

My parents and other Poles not only experienced this hatred in Germany.  They experienced something like it when they came to America as Displaced Persons after World War II.  As a child growing up in Chicago in the 1950s, I remember walking around the Wicker Park area with my father hoping to find an apartment to rent and seeing signs on buildings saying that the owners would not rent to Poles.  Also, we were often told that DP, the acronym for Displaced Persons, was just another way of describing us as Damn Poles, Dirty Poles, Drunk Poles, and Dumb Poles.  After spending years in slave labor camps and refugee camps, we were seen as stupid and lazy people who had come to America as refugees just to get a free ride funded by American taxpayers.  Poles again were seen as untermensch, subhumans, nothing but mules.

What amazes me is that 70 years later here in America, I hear the same thing, not necessarily about Poles, but about other people who don’t fit the description of what an American should be like.  When I went to college in the late 1950s, I took a history course on the Constitution, and one of the things it taught me was that people are equal.  The 14th Amendment states that "...nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws."  To me, this meant that all of us here in America were not untermensch, not subhumans.  We were all equally American.

I wish all Americans believed this.

Just a few days ago, I was reading about a lecture organized by the Maryland Federation of College Republicans that was given at Salisbury University, a state university in Maryland.  Jared Taylor—a self-described "white advocate" who is widely characterized by civil rights groups as a white supremacist—spoke on that campus on April 29, 2026. Arguing against cultural diversity, Taylor said that it is a form of weakness that creates national instability.  He also argued for racial segregation.  Whites should live apart from people of different cultures and races in order to preserve their own identities. Finally, he argued against immigration, saying it brings in people of different nationalities, cultures, races, and religions, and these differences will destroy America.  

Reading about Jared Taylor’s lecture, I thought about my parents and the Polish DPs I grew up with in Chicago.  So much of what he said brought back memories of how Poles were treated as untermensch by Nazi Germany and how we were treated by some Americans as Dumb Polacks when we came over from the refugee camps after the war.  

And I thought about something else.  I thought about the redistricting and gerrymandering that has gone on or is currently going on in 18 states prior to the midterm elections.  Most of the gerrymandering is by Republicans, and their intention seems pretty clear.  They want an America like the America “white advocate” Jared Taylor wants:  An America without diversity, an America of segregation, an America where immigrants are kept from our shores. 

They want an America that is not America.

—

My column first appeared in the Dziennik Zwiazkowy, the oldest Polish newspaper in America.