Pożegnanie Polska, Część 1: Biały
The day dawned with unusually bright, warm skies, promising a day perfect for cycling. I seized the opportunity to go out--overall health notwithstanding--but as I wheeled 7 of 9 onto the drive for le grand départ, I was seized by an intense longing to ride Kościuszko and see some heretofore-unseen part of Poland. Unfortunately, I have to admit to you, Dear Readers, that my return looks unlikely at this point. Still, I feel compelled to write a few lines, since Poland is constantly on my mind these days.
But before we dive in, a reader wanted to tap my knowledge of Veterans/Remembrance/Armistice Day with a query.
Question: What is the largest memorial or monument to World War One in the United States?
Answer: I don't know.
I can tell you, however, that the largest and most impressive WWI commemorative structure I've seen is in Kansas City, Missouri. It is called the Liberty Memorial. The immense structure was built in 1926 and finally made it onto the list of National Historic Landmarks in 2006.
I was fortunate enough to see the memorial in 1992 and was astounded by the museum, memorial structure and grounds. I think the most impressive aspect was the 9000 red poppies each representing 1000 deaths during the Great War growing beneath my feet as I crossed the glass sky bridge. Red poppies, you may know, are significant Remembrance Day symbols, no doubt popularized by the famous poem, In Flanders Fields by John McCrae, which an earnest schoolmarm forced me to memorize many decades ago. I wonder now, after all these years, what her connection was...
Speaking of symbols, when I first arrived in Poland last August I noticed there were Polish flags flying everywhere. This struck me. Nearly every public and private building had a flag and those flags stayed for the entire month of August (and many even longer). August, of course, is dedicated to the 1944 Warsaw Uprising (Powstanie warszawskie) and the public display during that month told me a great deal about Poland and the Poles. I can't imagine such an outpouring in the USA. Even after 9/11 the patriotic display in the USA paled by comparison to what I saw in Poland. But consider what the Poles have been through over the centuries. Symbols, like the flag, become important reminders of a shared experience.
The Polish flag has two horizontal stripes, white over red. Red and white were the historic heraldic colors of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. It made sense, that these colors were then officially adopted during the November Uprising of 1830-1831 (also called the Russo-Polish War), when Poland once again tried to break free from Imperial Russia, at that time led by Tsar Nicholas I. The uprising was brutally crushed, however, and the Tsar reminded the world that Poland was an integral part of the Russian Empire. The Poles, of course never agreed to this, nor would they ever.
To add significant insult to this injury, newly installed Pope Gregory XVI issued an encyclical in 1832, condemning the Polish patriots for their civil disobedience and reminding all children of the church (everywhere) to submit to the "legitimate authority of princes." I can't say that I'm fond of Gregory for this response to the Polish attempt to throw off the oppressive Russian yoke.
It may be understandable, however. Both the French Revolution in 1830 (Révolution de Juillet) leading to the overthrow of Charlie X and the attempted breakaway of the Poles from Russia, had rattled the new Pope, fearful that if in these most Catholic of nations citizens could disobey, that disobedience to the Holy Roman Catholic Church was not far behind. It's always about control and dominance, isn't it? To his credit, several years later in 1839, Gregory at least had the moral conviction to condemn the Atlantic slave trade and by implication the institution of slavery in the United States. He did not, it should be known, condemn the institution of serfdom in Imperial Russia, a point I will drop for the time being.
Getting back to the flag, though, of deeper interest to me more than post-Napoleonic Europe, are the origins of the English and Polish words for white and red. They are not straightforward etymologies in either case. Let's begin today with white, which in Polish is biały. You are probably savvy enough to see that these two words don't at all appear to be related. You would be right. So what's the story? As it turns out, Proto-Indo-European, our common ancestor language, has no less than six interesting roots that give us "shades of white", so to speak.
Polish biały comes from the root *bhel- that means 'shine', 'burn', 'flash'. This makes some sense when you think of the English phrases "white hot", "shining white", and so on. There are scores of words that we have in English that are related to this root. Here are just a few: blanch, bleach, blond, bleak, blemish, blend, and blind (Yes! In that moment of being blinded by the light, the field of vision is white). Incidentally, Byelorussia and the Baltic states have the same root...
But it doesn't stop there. The extended root, *bhelg, takes us to a Greek word which gives us phlegm (think phlegmatic). That same extended root led to a Proto-Germanic form, *blakaz, meaning 'burnt', which gives our word black. Don't you think that is cool? But there's more. The root yields an Old English word, blyscan, which means 'glow red', and hence our word blush. Of course, there's even more! Another extended root, *bhleə, gives the French bleu 'blue', and we get our word blue from there, too! So many colors, one root.
Although there are many more words related to this root, I don't want to bore you with Latin and Greek derivatives, but I will leave you with one known Russian borrowing: beluga.
Beluga could be a cetacean (whale), a sturgeon (caviar-bearing fish), a city in Alaska (near Anchorage) or a class of Russian diesel-electric submarines (1986-1998), depending on your knowledge base, but only the cetacean is white, so the whale gets the cute picture. The beluga is white, of course, because it lives in the arctic, where white only makes sense (at least for the time being). By the way, when we have tea, ask me about the etymology of arctic and I will regale you with tales of taboo words, bears, the dawn of humankind, Vikings, druids, and more!
There is another root, *bherəg-, which means 'bright' or 'white' from our common language. It is not as productive and doesn't merit extensive discussion, but both Polish and English derive the word for birch (Polish brzoza) from this root, presumably from the white bark. The famous-to-me river in Easter Poland, the Berezina, is derived from this word, being the site of the last battle of Napoleon's invasion of Russia in 1812. That event has been immortalized numerous times in paintings, perhaps the most impressive of which was a 360° panorama done in 1895 by noted Polish painters Wojciech Kossak (1856-1942) and Julian Fałat (1853-1929). The panorama was subsequently hacked to pieces and the various remnants sent off to several different places. A surviving sample is shown below.
But I digress. Yet a third root, *leuk-, meaning 'light', 'bright' gives us several 'white' words, too. This is another expansive root, but only two actually relate to 'white', to wit: leukocyte (white blood cell) and its partner, leukemia. The Polish word for leukemia is białaczka, which is an obvious derivative of the Polish biały. I'll leave it to you to discern all of the light-related words this root has to offer, because they are both interesting and legion...and don't forget to include lunatic and Lucifer! Your extra credit homework is to ferret out why The Prince of Darkness should have a name like Lucifer! I'm sure the answer will en-lighten you.
There is another root that generates white words: *albho-, meaning 'white'. It should be easy to guess some of these words, but if you don't want to play the game, consider: albino, albumen, albedo and others. I would be remiss, too, if I didn't mention the word Albion, the oldest name for the island of Great Britain. Where does Albion come from? The reference is to the White Cliffs of Dover, of course. As an aside, I first learned the word Albion from our friend Napoleon, who referred to England as "Perfidious Albion". That's my trivia trinket of the day for you. This root also has some unexpected derivatives; two are oaf and elf. Do we really put these two creatures in the same category? Go figure. Really. Go.
The fifth root related to white is *arg- 'to shine, to be white'. Chemists and French speakers may get this connection right away. Can you? It is the root word for silver (argentum). Not a lot to do with 'white', except that the metal silver is... silvery white. And shiny. A related word you better know is Argentina! Do you know the name of the river (estuary, actually) that separates Argentina from Uruguay? It is called the Río de la Plata, called the River Plate or Plate Estuary in English. Spanish speakers? River of Silver. Another unexpected word related to this root is argue. Argue?! Are we not making things crystal clear by arguing? Alas, I can think of no Slavic words related to this root. Give me time.
But what about the English word 'white'? What root gives us our very own word? It's a relatively boring little root, actually: *kweit- (sometimes seen as *kweid- ). It gives us directly Old English hwīt (pronounced rather like French huit or Swedish skit, although none of the three are related) and after the Great English Vowel Shift, white. The German word weiss is obviously related. Perhaps you know the little flower, edelweiss? For the chemists among us, Bismuth hails from this root as well. Bismuth, if you haven't seen it, is a brittle, silvery white metal.
Finally, probably the most important word related to our word white and also derived from this root is wheat (Old English hwǣte). But wheat isn't white! No, but the flour is. The root, of course, has scores of reflexes in Polish and the other Slavic languages. The earliest Common Slavic form is *světъ, 'light, world' and gives us the Polish word światło, 'light, bright'. The name Svetlana comes from this root, too.
For a final trip into whiteness, read about Whitsunday (or Whitsun), called Pentecost in some religious circles. This holiday is somewhat associated (loosely, Christian friends, loosely) with the Pagan Gaelic celebration of Beltane, the root of which is *bhel-, our first root discussed above. Beltane is the anglicized form of an old Celtic word meaning 'bright fire'. Bonfires were (are) common at such celebrations.
I hope, like me, that when you once more gaze upon the Polish flag and focus on that white horizontal, that you see much more than mere white. Now that we've come full circle with white, let's finally move on.
One benefit, I suppose, of being back in the USA, is that I have access to a variety of English language news sources (about Poland) that I didn't have in Poland. My knowledge of Polish never progressed far enough to truly and meaningfully understand the many complex problems there, although I did have an inkling. Only by being here and reading from a variety of sources could I see that there are many divisive and polarizing issues.
One particular example of an ongoing issue, is the "fight" over the future of Warsaw itself. There are competing visions for Warsaw and how this drama of "city planning" plays out will determine the fate, for example, of many of the farms, fields, and villages that I wrote about in earlier posts. Unfortunately it is a "pitched battle", so decisions are made, partially implemented, rescinded, and undone as polarized groups clash. I saw this first-hand in many of the construction and renovation projects that impacted transportation and infrastructure in the city and its environs.
I am reminded of a rather famous and oft-quoted coarse (rude) line from the great Polish lyricist Wojciech Młynarski (1941-2017): "Co by tu jeszcze spieprzyć, Panowie? Co by tu jeszcze?" Roughly translated: "What's left for you to f**k up, Gentlemen? What's still here?" This represents a sentiment that government really has messed up everything. I suppose that if you feel that way about government in Poland, please know that you are not alone in the world. You are not alone.
Incidentally, for the small number of you interested in bards, Młynarski, is the preeminent Polish balladeer and is likewise known for translating many operas and musicals into Polish, including Jesus Christ Superstar, Cabaret and Chicago. Aside from his own prodigious output, he also translated the works of other great singers into Polish. In particular, I am thinking now of the famous Russian poet-actor, Vladimir Vysotsky (1938-1980), the Belgian icon Jacques Brel (1929-1978) and the recently deceased French treasure, Charles Aznavour (1933-2018).
Młynarski was a Varsovian (inhabitant of Warsaw) born and bred. Młynarski's work was often highly controversial and usually critical of many aspects of Poland and, many would argue, he painted (or sang) a very accurate picture of not just events during the Communist Era, but these post-Communist times, as well. For these reasons he came under heavy scrutiny and he and his work were censored regularly. This is reason enough to check him out!
Whatever the issues in Poland, I know Poland will survive. These dramas are mere drops in the historical bucket of a great country and people stretching back over 1000 years. I do miss Poland, though. Spring has arrived here and I go for short rides on my faithful friend 7 of 9, but I miss Kościuszko, still waiting for me in Poland. And when we are finally rejoined here, what of this blog? With the raison d'être extinguished, what do we do? Que faire? Co robić?
On that sad note, I will leave things for now and finish up next time, writing about the other half of the Polish flag, the color red (czerwony) and other things that concern my ever-wandering mind. Ride on, Dear Readers, ride on!
 |
| Liberty Memorial, Kansas City, Missouri. Photo courtesy of Professor J. Aber, Emporia University. |
Question: What is the largest memorial or monument to World War One in the United States?
Answer: I don't know.
I can tell you, however, that the largest and most impressive WWI commemorative structure I've seen is in Kansas City, Missouri. It is called the Liberty Memorial. The immense structure was built in 1926 and finally made it onto the list of National Historic Landmarks in 2006.
I was fortunate enough to see the memorial in 1992 and was astounded by the museum, memorial structure and grounds. I think the most impressive aspect was the 9000 red poppies each representing 1000 deaths during the Great War growing beneath my feet as I crossed the glass sky bridge. Red poppies, you may know, are significant Remembrance Day symbols, no doubt popularized by the famous poem, In Flanders Fields by John McCrae, which an earnest schoolmarm forced me to memorize many decades ago. I wonder now, after all these years, what her connection was...
Speaking of symbols, when I first arrived in Poland last August I noticed there were Polish flags flying everywhere. This struck me. Nearly every public and private building had a flag and those flags stayed for the entire month of August (and many even longer). August, of course, is dedicated to the 1944 Warsaw Uprising (Powstanie warszawskie) and the public display during that month told me a great deal about Poland and the Poles. I can't imagine such an outpouring in the USA. Even after 9/11 the patriotic display in the USA paled by comparison to what I saw in Poland. But consider what the Poles have been through over the centuries. Symbols, like the flag, become important reminders of a shared experience.
 |
| The Flag of Poland. Source. |
To add significant insult to this injury, newly installed Pope Gregory XVI issued an encyclical in 1832, condemning the Polish patriots for their civil disobedience and reminding all children of the church (everywhere) to submit to the "legitimate authority of princes." I can't say that I'm fond of Gregory for this response to the Polish attempt to throw off the oppressive Russian yoke.
It may be understandable, however. Both the French Revolution in 1830 (Révolution de Juillet) leading to the overthrow of Charlie X and the attempted breakaway of the Poles from Russia, had rattled the new Pope, fearful that if in these most Catholic of nations citizens could disobey, that disobedience to the Holy Roman Catholic Church was not far behind. It's always about control and dominance, isn't it? To his credit, several years later in 1839, Gregory at least had the moral conviction to condemn the Atlantic slave trade and by implication the institution of slavery in the United States. He did not, it should be known, condemn the institution of serfdom in Imperial Russia, a point I will drop for the time being.
Getting back to the flag, though, of deeper interest to me more than post-Napoleonic Europe, are the origins of the English and Polish words for white and red. They are not straightforward etymologies in either case. Let's begin today with white, which in Polish is biały. You are probably savvy enough to see that these two words don't at all appear to be related. You would be right. So what's the story? As it turns out, Proto-Indo-European, our common ancestor language, has no less than six interesting roots that give us "shades of white", so to speak.
Polish biały comes from the root *bhel- that means 'shine', 'burn', 'flash'. This makes some sense when you think of the English phrases "white hot", "shining white", and so on. There are scores of words that we have in English that are related to this root. Here are just a few: blanch, bleach, blond, bleak, blemish, blend, and blind (Yes! In that moment of being blinded by the light, the field of vision is white). Incidentally, Byelorussia and the Baltic states have the same root...
But it doesn't stop there. The extended root, *bhelg, takes us to a Greek word which gives us phlegm (think phlegmatic). That same extended root led to a Proto-Germanic form, *blakaz, meaning 'burnt', which gives our word black. Don't you think that is cool? But there's more. The root yields an Old English word, blyscan, which means 'glow red', and hence our word blush. Of course, there's even more! Another extended root, *bhleə, gives the French bleu 'blue', and we get our word blue from there, too! So many colors, one root.
 |
| Beluga Whale. Source. |
Beluga could be a cetacean (whale), a sturgeon (caviar-bearing fish), a city in Alaska (near Anchorage) or a class of Russian diesel-electric submarines (1986-1998), depending on your knowledge base, but only the cetacean is white, so the whale gets the cute picture. The beluga is white, of course, because it lives in the arctic, where white only makes sense (at least for the time being). By the way, when we have tea, ask me about the etymology of arctic and I will regale you with tales of taboo words, bears, the dawn of humankind, Vikings, druids, and more!
There is another root, *bherəg-, which means 'bright' or 'white' from our common language. It is not as productive and doesn't merit extensive discussion, but both Polish and English derive the word for birch (Polish brzoza) from this root, presumably from the white bark. The famous-to-me river in Easter Poland, the Berezina, is derived from this word, being the site of the last battle of Napoleon's invasion of Russia in 1812. That event has been immortalized numerous times in paintings, perhaps the most impressive of which was a 360° panorama done in 1895 by noted Polish painters Wojciech Kossak (1856-1942) and Julian Fałat (1853-1929). The panorama was subsequently hacked to pieces and the various remnants sent off to several different places. A surviving sample is shown below.
 |
| Przejście Napoleona przez Berezynę. Source. |
But I digress. Yet a third root, *leuk-, meaning 'light', 'bright' gives us several 'white' words, too. This is another expansive root, but only two actually relate to 'white', to wit: leukocyte (white blood cell) and its partner, leukemia. The Polish word for leukemia is białaczka, which is an obvious derivative of the Polish biały. I'll leave it to you to discern all of the light-related words this root has to offer, because they are both interesting and legion...and don't forget to include lunatic and Lucifer! Your extra credit homework is to ferret out why The Prince of Darkness should have a name like Lucifer! I'm sure the answer will en-lighten you.
There is another root that generates white words: *albho-, meaning 'white'. It should be easy to guess some of these words, but if you don't want to play the game, consider: albino, albumen, albedo and others. I would be remiss, too, if I didn't mention the word Albion, the oldest name for the island of Great Britain. Where does Albion come from? The reference is to the White Cliffs of Dover, of course. As an aside, I first learned the word Albion from our friend Napoleon, who referred to England as "Perfidious Albion". That's my trivia trinket of the day for you. This root also has some unexpected derivatives; two are oaf and elf. Do we really put these two creatures in the same category? Go figure. Really. Go.
 |
| Perfidious Albion. Source. |
The fifth root related to white is *arg- 'to shine, to be white'. Chemists and French speakers may get this connection right away. Can you? It is the root word for silver (argentum). Not a lot to do with 'white', except that the metal silver is... silvery white. And shiny. A related word you better know is Argentina! Do you know the name of the river (estuary, actually) that separates Argentina from Uruguay? It is called the Río de la Plata, called the River Plate or Plate Estuary in English. Spanish speakers? River of Silver. Another unexpected word related to this root is argue. Argue?! Are we not making things crystal clear by arguing? Alas, I can think of no Slavic words related to this root. Give me time.
But what about the English word 'white'? What root gives us our very own word? It's a relatively boring little root, actually: *kweit- (sometimes seen as *kweid- ). It gives us directly Old English hwīt (pronounced rather like French huit or Swedish skit, although none of the three are related) and after the Great English Vowel Shift, white. The German word weiss is obviously related. Perhaps you know the little flower, edelweiss? For the chemists among us, Bismuth hails from this root as well. Bismuth, if you haven't seen it, is a brittle, silvery white metal.
Finally, probably the most important word related to our word white and also derived from this root is wheat (Old English hwǣte). But wheat isn't white! No, but the flour is. The root, of course, has scores of reflexes in Polish and the other Slavic languages. The earliest Common Slavic form is *světъ, 'light, world' and gives us the Polish word światło, 'light, bright'. The name Svetlana comes from this root, too.
 |
| Amber Waves of Grain Give White Flour. Source. |
For a final trip into whiteness, read about Whitsunday (or Whitsun), called Pentecost in some religious circles. This holiday is somewhat associated (loosely, Christian friends, loosely) with the Pagan Gaelic celebration of Beltane, the root of which is *bhel-, our first root discussed above. Beltane is the anglicized form of an old Celtic word meaning 'bright fire'. Bonfires were (are) common at such celebrations.
I hope, like me, that when you once more gaze upon the Polish flag and focus on that white horizontal, that you see much more than mere white. Now that we've come full circle with white, let's finally move on.
One benefit, I suppose, of being back in the USA, is that I have access to a variety of English language news sources (about Poland) that I didn't have in Poland. My knowledge of Polish never progressed far enough to truly and meaningfully understand the many complex problems there, although I did have an inkling. Only by being here and reading from a variety of sources could I see that there are many divisive and polarizing issues.
One particular example of an ongoing issue, is the "fight" over the future of Warsaw itself. There are competing visions for Warsaw and how this drama of "city planning" plays out will determine the fate, for example, of many of the farms, fields, and villages that I wrote about in earlier posts. Unfortunately it is a "pitched battle", so decisions are made, partially implemented, rescinded, and undone as polarized groups clash. I saw this first-hand in many of the construction and renovation projects that impacted transportation and infrastructure in the city and its environs.
 |
| Wojciech Młynarski. Source. |
Incidentally, for the small number of you interested in bards, Młynarski, is the preeminent Polish balladeer and is likewise known for translating many operas and musicals into Polish, including Jesus Christ Superstar, Cabaret and Chicago. Aside from his own prodigious output, he also translated the works of other great singers into Polish. In particular, I am thinking now of the famous Russian poet-actor, Vladimir Vysotsky (1938-1980), the Belgian icon Jacques Brel (1929-1978) and the recently deceased French treasure, Charles Aznavour (1933-2018).
Młynarski was a Varsovian (inhabitant of Warsaw) born and bred. Młynarski's work was often highly controversial and usually critical of many aspects of Poland and, many would argue, he painted (or sang) a very accurate picture of not just events during the Communist Era, but these post-Communist times, as well. For these reasons he came under heavy scrutiny and he and his work were censored regularly. This is reason enough to check him out!
Whatever the issues in Poland, I know Poland will survive. These dramas are mere drops in the historical bucket of a great country and people stretching back over 1000 years. I do miss Poland, though. Spring has arrived here and I go for short rides on my faithful friend 7 of 9, but I miss Kościuszko, still waiting for me in Poland. And when we are finally rejoined here, what of this blog? With the raison d'être extinguished, what do we do? Que faire? Co robić?
On that sad note, I will leave things for now and finish up next time, writing about the other half of the Polish flag, the color red (czerwony) and other things that concern my ever-wandering mind. Ride on, Dear Readers, ride on!
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