If objects could speak, a worn out sugar canister would have a lifetime of colorful stories to tell.
Worn out from daily use, it sat on my grandparents’ table in Yonkers, NY for as long as I can remember. The sugar canister was purchased when my grandparents first came to this country, probably in the early 50s. It is a very well loved canister! The table was in a tiny room, but the feelings of joy shared here could fill up a palatial dining hall. I used to steal sugar cubes from the canister when I was too young to drink tea, the coveted prize dissolving on my tongue while I pretended there was nothing in my mouth. I felt like an adult when I was old enough to actually use the sugar for tea, and share this special time with my family. We would sit at the table, talk about the day, and sip strong black tea. It was usually just a supermarket bagged tea, but when we sat at the table together, it was a sacred elixir.
Happy Teatimes and Happy Memories
My grandparents, Gisele and Emil, were from Poland. Gisele was from a town outside of Warsaw and Emil was from Krakow. Taking afternoon tea was a daily ritual for them before and after the war. They taught me how to take a few moments to savor a cup and enjoy the company of my family. Sitting in that tiny dining room sipping tea, I learned my rich family history. What my grandparents’ lives were like in the ‘old country,’ how things were so different, yet family values were still the same. Most importantly how beautiful life can be no matter where you are, as long as you are surrounded by people that love you.
My grandmother had a carefree, whimsical side to her personality. She was always singing songs from her childhood, and making silly jokes. I think her sense of humor was what carried her through the darkest times of the war. She was very lucky to make it through the war undetected, but of course she had many close calls. When she told us war stories, she usually highlighted the happier times, since she never wanted to upset us. When I was growing up, I remember she was always quick to make a joke if she noticed a family member in a cranky mood. It almost always brightened things up. Even now when I need cheering up I imagine her telling one of her silly jokes and my mood always improves. I have a particular fond memory of dancing in her tiny kitchen barely big enough for my petite grandmother and my 4 year old self. She belted out one of her favorite songs and we twirled around. At one point she slipped and we both fell to the ground, laughing the entire time. Her spirit infused the tiny Bronx apartment with jubilant warmth. It was a place I always felt safe and happy.
My grandmother had a unique way of adding the cubes to her tea. She would put the sugar cube in her mouth, and kept it nestled in her cheek as she sipped. I always tried to copy her, but would end up chomping the cube after a few seconds. I don’t usually prefer sugar in my tea today, but sometimes I’ll pop a cube in my mouth and try, just to feel close to my grandmother.
My grandparents recently passed away 6 months apart. I try to focus on the romantic aspect of this, and the fact that both grandparents lived to an advanced age and were able to meet their great-grandchildren. Surviving through the Holocaust, they actually met at a displaced persons camp in Germany, right after WWII in 1946.
From Poland to Germany to the Bronx
My father was born in the DP camp in Germany in 1947. They were in the camp for 4 years because they were waiting for American Visas. My grandmother had an aunt in NYC that ‘sponsored’ her to come to NYC. When people emigrated to NY it was helpful to know someone in America to help them find work and an apartment. They went directly from the DP camp to NYC- they lived in an apartment in Woodlawn, a section of the Bronx.
Gisele and Emil both learned a second language while working to help support their family. When he first came to NY he found a job in the garment district doing ‘piece work’- basically working on odd tailoring jobs, and getting paid by the amount of work he completed. He did this for many years before landing a steadier job as a dressmaker for an American designer. During the war my grandmother was a maid in Vienna, she posed as a Christian with a fake birth certificate and the family did not know she was Jewish. When she came to the US, she took care of their son -my father- and much later worked as a saleswoman at a department store.
Traditions & Generations
Some of my favorite memories are sitting at the table, taking tea, laughing and chatting. I can remember feeling happy, warm, and loved. I am trying to start similar tea rituals with my own two young children. My children love tea! They are young, 6 and 4, so I usually make them chamomile tea with honey, or other caffeine-free blends. We usually use ‘fancy’ cups and plates to make it more fun. They do like stealing sips of my tea, and my 6 year old daughter can identify the difference between green and black teas by looking at the leaves and tasting. I’m very proud!
The special sugar canister now has a place of importance at our tea table in Brooklyn, watching over my family. When we share a pot of tea together, we sip, laugh, and chat. I’m sure the little canister will soon have many more stories to tell.
By Sara Shacket
Put The Kettle On #PTKO
Do you have a remarkable story to tell? Some of us have experienced an incredible moment in our lives. Quite possibly, a cup of tea was somehow there too.
We want to hear your story and laugh and cry and feel joyful! Find more information about Put The Kettle On here.
