Nope, Galicia. Nowy Sacz.

Heh, I wasn't guessing for real that it was the same place, but it's such a typical thing in that part of Europe. My great-grandmother was born in Breslau, and I've definitely had some weird conversations -- "But I thought your family was Austrian?"... "Well, she was originally German." "... but isn't that in Poland?" It gets to a point where it's a kind of Who's On First thing, but with empires.

It gets to a point where it's a kind of Who's On First thing, but with empires.

snerk

My grandmother's family is easier. They stayed in basically one place for a few hundred years, and the only possible nationalities for them would be Bavarian, Hessian, and German. Not so much changing boundaries as just places combining. My mom's family was from a part of Poland that was sometimes part of Russian, depending on who'd won the most recent battle. And in US immigration records, "nationality" is most frequently recorded as "Hebrew."

(I've noticed a bunch of records from about 1948-1950 or so with Israelis listed as "Israelian" or "Israelite." Guess it took a little while for people to learn the adjective form.)

From that cakewrecks blog: [link] I cannot stop giggling.

The cakewrecks blog is reminding me of the summer before sixth grade, when my cousin (same age as me) came to stay with us for the summer. When he was going home at the end of the summer, his parents said that they were getting a cake to celebrate, and asked him what kind of picture he wanted on the cake. He said he wanted a gun. My parents, who overheard his end of the conversation, were sure that his mother would ignore the gun request and get a cake with the Red Sox or Patriots logo or something.

Nope. We get up to Boston, get to their apartment, and on the table is a cake with a semi-automatic drawn in icing. And pink roses in the corners.

Guns and Roses! ha!

Hil, I'm sorry to hear about your coworker. Being from where I'm from, I have zero experience dealing with those things, though I imagined I've done the same to my Christian-Israeli friends when I just got to know them. However, when I traveled in U.S. I remember sort of "pity looks" when I told strangers where I'm from. "Oh, you're from THERE. How is it like?". Which isn't rude, but made me feel like I'm coming from outer space. Some of them actually seemed to be freaked out about this. They seemed to be satisfied with the answer of "I can't picture myself living in any other place", which is true - I can't picture myself living in U.S., for instance, even though I have plans to study for post grad in some institute that sounds very cool.

Also, I can trace similarity between some of your stories and my family's stories. My grandparents are from England, Poland, Hungary (Austro-Hungary) and Germany. After the Holocaust, the surviving relatives who didn't escape earlier went to Australia, U.S. and Israel. I only know of the Israeli branch of the family, and I know my dad had cousins in the East Coast in the 60's (he doesn't know what happened to them). Two years ago we found out some English relatives of ours, and we had the best Seder ever with them. It was hilarious - they thought that because we're Israelis we read every word on the Haggadah, and we thought the same because the grandfather of the family was the Chief Rabbi of London before WW2. I'm coming from a family that reads 15 minutes of the Haggadah just because I make them do so, or else it would be 3 minutes. After an hour and a half my dad and the "dad" of their side looked at each other and mumbled "umm, mind if we skip this part...?".

Right. Chocolate truffles are ready. Living room was cleaned last night. Schedule for university was completed (part 1 of 3). I still need to do the key chain for my friend's bachelorette party (I hope to come across a bead store on my way to her so I'll add the WWCD (what would cthulhu do?), work, clean my room and the kitchen, and oh, yeah, brush teeth. Again. Since I'm with this braces, brushing takes about 25 minutes every day, because I'm supposed to brush after every time I eat. And I'm tired, hence a little bit cranky. And oh, I was being "promoted" last night to be a mod in my musical forum. Never been asked about it, and it's lovely gesture, but it came out of the blue. A little bit.

Slacking time here is over. Time to face life. Again. Grrr. It's Friday, I'm not supposed to be awake at this time!

OMG, people. I'm handling URLs from the dawn of the interwebs now. One of them, of a gynecologic branch of some Israeli hospital, was come.to/cervix.

It gets to a point where it's a kind of Who's On First thing, but with empires.

It's weird. Findland's only been a country since around WWI, and my dad's family all immigrated to the US years before that. So, strictly speaking, they were Russian, because while there was the Duchy of Finland, there wasn't a country there. Don't try to tell Dad that, though. "My family's from Finland." "And that great-grandfather who the records said, 'came from the east'?" "Eastern Finland." "But the town the rest of them were in was already in eastern . . . " "They were Finnish."

OK, Dad. Aside from conquering armies from Sweden, Russia, and occasionally Germany doing what conquering armies do, I'm sure the bloodline is pure Finnish. Whatever that may be.

I'm sure the bloodline is pure Finnish. Whatever that may be.

According to my Finnish workmates, that would be anyone with a penchant for depression, swearing and drinking copious amounts of vodka. Also lactose intolerance.