Stephen Shooster When I think of my grandfather, I think of the pony that used to follow him. He liked to spoil it with treats, like a dog, that small horse would stay with him all day long. I remember the treats very well. They were made of pure sugar. There were two types of sugary treats. One was imported, and shaped into cubes, while the other was an organic yellow bar. I liked sugar too, so I probably followed right along with the pony. My father, Hersch, was born in 1899. I would characterize his childhood as hard- scrabble, rough, and poor. When he turned 18, he was immediately drafted into the Aus- trian cavalry. It was the beginning of World War I. He never told me about his wartime adventures, except that this is where he met
Tadeusz and Mary Skrabski
his best friend, and our neighbor, Tadeusz Skrabski. When the war was over, he got married and settled in Grybow, and following my family tradition he cared for animals. This made him an asset to the community. Some of the poorer ones did their best to pay him with something of value in trade. I recall gifts of firewood, potatoes, and wheat. I even remember one of those peasants specifi- cally. He was a Yuvanium who lived south of us in Banica on the border with Slovakia. That poor man came all the way to Grybow with gifts of wood and food, so my father would care for his animals. They seemed to be old friends. I wish I could say I helped my father all the time, but I was a kid and I far more pre- ferred to wander the fields and hills than to work with animals. I guess he could have forced me to help him more, but maybe he wanted to give me an innocent childhood instead. Or, maybe because I was sickly when I was young, he was just happy to see me run around, knowing eventually I would have to grow up. No matter what, I detested working with animals. To me, the animals were nothing but endless hours of hard work. I thought they were something to be avoided just like homework. It definitely did not help my attitude towards them to watch my father perform one of the more gruesome tasks required to do his job, which was to turn stallions into geldings. This is when the testicles are removed from the male to make them more docile. It doesn’t take more than one time witnessing this procedure to never want to see another horse castrated.
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