"Crossing": A poetic remembrance, 1909

Crossing
A poetic remembrance, 1909 
by Lisa

A young, new mother and her little son.
A village farm. A loving family.
A husband in a distant unknown land.
Her task: to leave and cross the massive sea.

Sad looks and words and tears from family.
Her mother’s broken heart in deepest prayer.
A bag or two, her child, and they must go.
A world to cross before arrival there.

Across the continent by train to shore,
the port looms large and daunting, and right then
a thought suddenly shakes her halting heart:
she’ll never see her home country again.

With husband waiting on the other side,
she and her young son step off of the land
and onto this new vessel of the sea –
but their place is below, so they descend.

In steerage – tossing, shifting, dark and damp –
below the deck they wait and count the days.
In such close quarters her young son takes ill.
She nurses him and counts the hours and prays.

The days pass slowly, painfully – eighteen –

of engine noise and air too stale to breathe.

And fever! Purgatory on the sea!

Her hope is for the day that they may leave.

Amidst her pain and suffering she finds

more travelers in similar despair.

Some countrymen whose ways and words she knows,

but many foreign tongues are from elsewhere.

She finds herself within a strange new world

and wonders where this voyage will yet lead.

Her strength and faith are rising, falling, while

the ship is tossed and pitched out on the sea.

How glorious – the day she hears the news

that land is near; departure eminent.

But joy is short-lived as this mother learns

the place where her ill baby will be sent.

In pain with measles, he must be confined.

Son and his mother forced to separate.

Her salty tears form oceans near her feet.

All she can do is pray and hope and wait.

Then finally the flood of trials departs

when mother, son – and father! – meet once more.

The sea of separation which they faced

is now behind them as they step ashore.

A young, new mother and her little son.

Her husband by her side in a new land.

This family steps into a new life

holding each other tightly by the hand.

© Lisa / Smallest Leaf Press

Written in memory of the transatlantic journey of twenty-four-year-old Ilona (Bence) Ujlaki and her two-year-old son Ferencz. They traveled by train from Legrad, Hungary to the port of Fiume, Hungary (now Rijeka, Croatia). Their third class (steerage) voyage on the S.S. Carmania to New York harbor lasted for eighteen days: from February 13 to March 2, 1909. While on board the ship, little Ferencz became ill with measles.  After the ship docked at Ellis Island, he was separated from his mother and hospitalized. After being reunited, Ilona and her son were able to meet their husband and father, the elder Ferencz, and begin their new life in New York City. Ilona, later to be known as Helen Ulaky, was my great-grandmother.

This poem has been submitted to the 89th edition of Jasia's Carnival of Genealogy whose topic is Ode to My Family's History featuring family history-focused poems. (Thanks to footnoteMaven for this edition's poster shown here).

Want to read more of my poetry?  Check out my parody of Katharine Lee Bates' America, The Beautiful: 100 Years in America the Beautiful, my limericks honoring my Irish immigrant ancestor entitled A poem for Patrick, or the little ditty I wrote to describe myself as an Irish family history blogger: A limerick for the love of Ireland.

Why do I trace my family tree?

I've asked myself this question every now and then over the many years that I've been interested in family history. The fact is, there has never been a time when I was not fascinated by the stories and names and places that have played a role in my family.

My first official effort at genealogy as an eleven-year-old is still fresh in my memory: interviewing my grandparents so that I could fill out a large pedigree chart with my pencil.

I had a friend with a similar interest in genealogy. His parents drove us to a genealogical library one day. I remember the dusty smell of the many old books stacked side by side on the shelves. The sunshine streamed in the window as I determined Soundex codes for each of the family surnames that I knew. Books with large indexes turned up a few possible matches, but there were no real discoveries that day for me. Still, my love for family history grew in that old library.

Perhaps the day in my younger years that I learned the most was the day we mourned the loss of my grandfather. As one of his teen granddaughters, I had been chosen to read one of the Scripture readings at his funeral. I had loved my grandfather very much. It was an honor to do this. Following the funeral, at a nearby funeral home, I learned who had joined us that day. His sisters were there, several brothers of his (whom I'd never heard of), and cousins! I met them all (and their wives and children) and heard stories of their childhoods: where they and my grandfather had lived, their father's occupation, their places of birth, where their parents had come from...

I left that day with a new understanding of my grandfather's life and his role in a family that I had hardly known about, not to mention several pages of notes. Names, dates, places... Once home I carefully entered all the info via pencil into my paper pedigree chart, and marveled at how I could have known so little about my beloved grandfather's life.

My search for family history has continued over the years. Every new bit of information is a spark that lights the fire that makes me want to learn more. And every bit of family history is a gift that gives me an appreciation for the past and an understanding of who I am today. I especially love sharing new family history discoveries with my children and with other members of the youngest generation of the family. In a world that is changing so quickly every day, the knowledge of our heritage and of the people who came before us gives us a solid foundation and appreciation for our lives and the lives and cultures of others.

I enjoyed reading What is Gained by Researching Your Family Tree? by Kimberly Powell. She says, "I research my family history because it provides me with a personal look back into a history that I might not have otherwise ever discovered. The research process challenges me. The learning process enlightens me. The discoveries provide a sense of accomplishment."

I wholeheartedly agree. A little time spent here and there searching for family history throughout the years has provided me with many rewards. Perhaps the best reward is the understanding and appreciation of the world and its cultures that I've gained through the process of discovering my own heritage.

As long as I live I hope to keep busy on my branch of the family tree: looking to the past, sharing stories with other family members and helping to provide the gift of our heritage to future generations.

The image of the Oak tree in winter is circa 1840's. You can view similar historic images from the Fox Talbot Museum at http://foxtalbot.dmu.ac.uk/resources/photo.html

This article originally appeared here at 100 Years in America on November 25, 2007. I have republished it here in honor of the new year and my renewed intent to "give life" to those that have come before me by "fanning the flame of their memories" once more.