peace and paczki.......

People who live outside of Metro Detroit may not be familiar with "Paczki day."  Paczki (plural of paczek) are Polish doughnuts, fried and filled with fruit preserves or sweet cream and topped with powdered sugar or glaze.  To simply call them a "doughnut" is a gross insult to the Polish community.  For those living in and around Hamtramck, Michigan (a historically Polish Catholic area of Detroit) feasting on paczki on "Fat Tuesday" (the day before Ash Wednesday, starting the Lenten season for Catholics) is a time-honored tradition.  For a day, it seems everyone is Polish and Catholic in our town.  Office buildings are filled with the fat-latened treats.  Paczki eating contests abound!  The love-hate relationship with this pre-lent ritual plays out year in and year out in the community.  If you live in the area, everyone has an opinion on paczki.Saturday, I participated in the first annual Paczki 5K run, meandering through the 2 mile radius town.  Mid race, I found myself wishing I had the Polish Eagle or a babushka on my head to celebrate my Polish heritage.I'm 25% Czechoslovakian, 25% German, & 50% Polish.  I've always thought of myself, however, as "Polish".  Perhaps it's because as a child, the Polish side of the family is the one we spent holidays, birthdays and any other excuse to celebrate.  Perhaps it's because my Polish grandparents were the ones actively involved in my life.  Or perhaps it's because even as a child, I was an advocate for underdog.  Polish people have long been the butt of jokes and insults.  Hearing that Polish people were "stupid" was a commonplace experience for me growing up.  Nonetheless, I've always been proud to be Polish.Why is heritage so important to us as a people?  We live in a melting pot of the world, yet for so many of us, our heritage still defines who we are as a people.  Like a subset of our American identity.For me, I think it is in honor of my ancestors, in a way to ensure their lives be remembered.  When I'm gone, who will be certain they aren't forgotten? Who will tell their stories?  Or maybe it's more a process of ensuring when I'm gone, I will leave some sort of mark on this world.  In the dark of the night when I can't sleep (which is far more often that I even acknowledge).....when I'm not mentally preparing my grocery list, I process in my mind what my legacy will be and whether or not I'm living up to what I'm supposed to be doing.There's a song "I was here" by Lady Antebellum that has been playing in my mind repeatedly lately.  Lyrics include "I want to do something that matters. say something different. something that sets the whole world on its ear.  I want to do something better with the time that I've been given.  and I want to try.  to touch a few hearts in the is life.  and leave nothing less than something that says, I was here."Have I done that?  Have I honored the sacrifice that my family has made for me to educate me- to support me- so that I could help improve the lives of others?  Am I honoring my Polish (and German and Czech) heritage showing my world that I'm strong and smart and compassionate?  Maybe that's why I needed to move on from my former job (that I loved), because somewhere inside me I knew that I needed to change in order to grow.  Being able to connect with no longer being content enables me, always, to find my purpose in life.  Not as an end goal, but as a way to keep moving in life's journey.  I hope I never get to the point when I think, I'm done.  This is it.  May we all continually focus on the horizon to keep us moving forward.May be I'm meant to be a poet?   An author?  An advocate?   Start a movement? Motivate someone through their struggles with self-esteem, by my own omission of my own?  Coach someone through their first 5k race or marathon?  Take up knitting and make scarves for the poor or sick or lost? Maybe it is something I haven't even considered yet?I don't know where my life journey is going, exactly, which is quite scary to be honest.  But what I'm certain of is this: staying stuck in the same place just because it's familiar has never been appealing to me.  Learning to trust my inner compass helps lead me on my path, even when I'm not sure which direction it is going.Instead of a quote for the day I leave with this... "Sto lat"! (google it....if I was more tech savvy I'd have it imbedded in here, but I put a disclaimer in the "about me" section, that I am not.)   The translation is this:  (One hundred years)- a traditional Polish song that is sung at formal and informal gatherings expressing good wishes, good health, and long life to a person.  What else can we ask for, really?  I'm confident, Annie and Albert would be proud if I pass on this wish, this memory, this honor of their tradition to others.Peace, and Sto lat!