Monument of the poet Jerzy Kozarzewski by prof.Marian Molenda "I had a long and happy life"

2022-01-25 10:04:48Wydarzyło się

W uroczystości odsłonięcia rzeźbyJerzego Kozarzewskiego w Nysie, 23 września 2021 r., his daughters and son participated.In the photo, on the bench from the left: Anna Kozarzewska-Bigazzi, MariaSterczyńska (photo."Nysiego Nowiny")

September 23.The official ceremony of unveiling the monument of the Jerrzegokarzewski monument took place in front of the Municipal Office in Nysa.The author of the sculpture is prof.Marian Molenda, head of the Department of Beautiful UO.The ceremony of the seizure was attended by M.in. przedstawiciele władz województwa, powiatu igminy, rodzina Jerzego Kozarzewskiego – córki Anna Bigazzii MariaSterczyńska oraz syn Marcin Kozarzewski,przedstawiciele Instytutu Pamięci Narodowej i służb mundurowych.

The material appeared in the December issue of the university magazine "Index".

***

Beata Łabutin

Silence before the salvo

Only Tuwim can help you - Magdalena was advised.- Tuwimno in arms for returning to the People's Homeland.

I already know that everything is a walking hiking,

a little picnic and more pilgrimage.

(Zapierz Jerzy Kozarzewski Magdalena)

It was 1946.Magdalena arrived on her arms for returning to the People's Homeland.He asked, for him just to him.Magdalena replied directly: - Because they will not fail you.Because the husband is also a poet.Because he is a descendant of Norwid, the great -grandson of his youngest brother.

- Norwid's surname chased Georva - says Magdalena Kozarzewska.- he ordered to bring his husband's poems, then wait for the answer.He said soon: - I can't refuse you.The execution is a prophetic poem.

Minus eleven

For 50 years of life of Magdalenai Jerzy Kozarzewski from Nysa, there was 11 years of separation, filled with difficult time.

They met in Warsaw in 1942.She studied medicine at theSecret University of Warsaw.He, a graduate of the WarsawSchool of Economics, worked in Krakow in the underground.He visited Warsaw three times, wrote letters, many letters about it and what he wants.In July 1943.There was a quiet wedding, in October they lived together - Magdalena and Jerzy, whose feelings resisted the time of time and all adversities.

Magdalena continued her studies as a social nurse.She looked after the poorest Warsaw..She looked at the incredible misery and humiliation of the occupation.Jerzy started working at the Arcta publishing company.

One hundred letters

They lived inSaska Kępa.On the twenties before the Uprising, they moved to Śródmieście.After surrender, they found themselves in the camp in Pruszków.Magdalena was in advanced pregnancy.The sympathetic brush pulled her out of the group of women directed to Ravensbrueck.Allowed her to leave the camp.Jerzy, as capable of work, went to Oświęcim, then Domauthausen.Magdalena reached Jerzy's mother in Piotrków Trybunalski.This is how the daughter was born.

She knew nothing about her husband.She tried to find him throughout the war.Sent over 100 letters to various camps and isolation places.

"It's unbelievable," says Mamagdalena Kozarzewska today, "but I received over 90 hours.One of the last ones was a.Is, he lives, although in a terrible place.

I AM HEALTHY

Jerzy was called to the campztuba camp.

There he was ordered to write a letter starting with a mandatory phrase: I am healthy and I am doing well.Three weeks later, a post card came from a wife with a message about the birth of a daughter.

He returned to Poland on July 2, 1945.He found a seven -month -old daughter at home.Magda could not believe in a miracle return.However, it was a return to underground activities.

Jerzy mediated information on social moods, the fate of people who came from the forest and revealed themselves to the metastasis.For some time he worked with "Marcysia", the captain of the Home Army [Emilia Malessa], wife of the legendary "Grim".He was arrested in her Warsaw apartment.

Konrad's road

Jerzy Kozarzewski recalls: - a young man with a revolver.I already knew that I entered the "drawer".There were ten people there.Two more came after me.At night I was transported by the CentralSecurity Office [UB] in Prague, and the next day the frequency in Mokotów.Auditions, usually night, lasted several months.August 2, 1946.The trial began - the first demonstration [political process] in People's Poland, then named in the press by Konrad (Konrad - the occupation nickname of Jerrzegokoszewski).Five more people were thought of with me.

Everyone was accused of organizing, organizing illegal metastatic routes to Regensburg (where the Polish help center for B was located.prisoners) and sentenced to death.Jerzy, as a leader, received a double death sentence.The case was mounted artificially;The accused disagreed with each other.The idea was to prove the thesis that people returning the country work for foreign powers.

From the date of arrest of her husband, Magdalenaszkai, she has been everywhere.She found in the Mokotow prison.

"I was atSalisągowa all the time," he says.- except for the day of announcement of the judgment.Jerzy asked me to stay at home.

The sentence of the judgment found an amazing sentence: the court states that the accused acted without any personal benefit, for pure ideological reasons.

The happiest day

Magdalena began the fight for her husband.The only chance was Bierut's grace.Days of searching for a path to Jegokancecelia began."I have been able to do many people - recalls Mrs. Kozarzewska.- I reached Domarek Arczyński, toStanisławSzwalbe, toStanisław Grabski, vice president.Madam, I am a manner - he told me - I am begging you all convicts and I have no influence on the president's decisions anymore.And he added: my child, death is not the worst thing that can happen to a man.

Bierut rarely and reluctantly exercises the right of grace, and he treated the occurring people suspiciously.

And then Magdalena turned Dotuwim.After the first meeting with the poet, she waited impatiently for an answer.He called her to himself on August 31.On this day he had an audience at Bierut."I don't know how long I waited at his door," he says.- I heard that the elevator is riding.They both got out (he didn't like to move without his wife)."Your husband will live, he is pardoned," he told me and added: "This is the happiest in my life.

Golden Festivities

The verdict was changed to convicts to 10 and15 years in prison.Again a separation that could not be filled with rare vision.

Poems were created in prison, but they could be saved.They had to remain in the recesses of the mind.- Maybe it just prompted me to acute rhythm discipline - says Jerzy Kozarzewski.-I wanted to remember.

Magdalena graduated from medical and pediatric specialization.She got a two -year work order in Nysa, where she lived with the child, mother of Jerzy and her own.In the hospital Nysa, a children's ward had to be expanded and expanded.She was his head physician for 33 years.

She regained her husband on November 1, 1955.She was waiting for him at the station in Nysa with his 11-year-old daughter Anna, who only saw her father twice twice as a two-year-old and as a ten-year-old.

Then the next days were born: Marcin Kozarzewski and Marysia.

Anna - psychologist by education - she married an Italian.He lives in Italy.Marcin, conservator of monuments, moved to Toruń.Marysia graduated from the Academy of Music in Katowice, she is the assistant.

Jerzy Kozarzewski, after leaving the conclusion, had trouble finding a job.Finally, he got an accountant's full -time hospital.He survived there to retire.

At the age of 79 he made his debut with the volume of poems the gift of everyday life.Prepares another - dedicated to Nysa.After all, Nysa is a special place, here Magdalena and Jerzy Osiedles forever in the house, which is a witness, sorrows and everyday life of their marriage.In 1993.They celebrated golden.

They say about their history: -She was a lot of many.

From the poem of Jerzy Kozarzewski, execution:

You chose the way that brought me

Under the nameless wall, from where they will gather me with garbage.

You chose it for a while so that I could not see the emblem

he could repeat your cross without a shadow of resistance.

Pomnik-ławeczka poety Jerzego Kozarzewskiego autorstwa prof. Mariana Molendy „Miałem długie i szczęśliwe życie”

You chose this silence - the one before the salvo silence

- I could, if I would like to hear your great voice.

The text was published in Gazeta Wyborcza on October 7, 1993.Jerzy Kozarzewski died three years later, February 1, 1996.

***

BarbaraStankiewicz

He was greedy for everyday life

In November 2021.I asked my daughter andSynajor Kozarzewski about their childhood memories related to their father.

Anna Kozarzewska-Bigazzi (psycholog,działaczka FlorenckiegoStowarzyszenia Autyzmu):

- The ten -year absence of my father was involved in my childhood.I knew that he was sitting in and that he was a noble man, not a criminal, as I was able to hear at the age of eight from a teacher.It was difficult to talk to a small child about the reasons for a convale and dangerous.I loved him with the love of my mother and grandmother "daddy".It was thanks to them that he was present in everyday life.During these ten years we were able to meet only dwarazy.He returned home when I was 11 and I remember this return as if it was yesterday.Mom, seriously ill, was unable to go for her father.Aunt, Roman Łempicka, went for him.Unfortunately, they missed.My mother and I went out to the station several times.Tension increased.Father arrived donys only in the morning, dressed in prison Drelich.A few hours later I used all my friends, declaring that "I have dad too".

Father spoke about his past life and very sparingly, without a trace of hatred or a desire to retaliate.The world of my siblings would come.The past scrolled somewhere in the background, the father's dominance to everyday life, even the unattractive one. Wracałaczasem, na przykład w związku z odwiedzinami przyjaciela i towarzysza niedoli,Sławka Modzelewskiego, skazanego w tym samym, co ojciec, procesie na karęśmierci.The tone of their memories was surprising.Almost light, sometimes playful.

The details of what happened came to me much later.Some after the late poetic debut of his father, when interviews began to be done with him.Others only after his death, when we began to look at family papers containing the correspondence of parents from the period, as well as extremely touching letters, written to the notebook by Mother, Janina Łempicka (restrictions on the amount of correspondence that the father was free to receive, made her grandmother not send her letters,by assuming this privilege for my mother).

The father returned from prison home Wnysie, where four women were waiting for him: mother, both grandmothers and me.She nysasted with his marina, a city that he loved, as evidenced not only by social commitment to the city, but also the volume traces from the stone.He also wrote occasional poems for children, grandchildren of the iPrzyjaciół and these immediately began to circulate in the family circles.

I came to Nysa as less than seven -year -old.After the first period of childhood spent inSłużewiec (loving people, horses, theSzuchów uncle dog, kindergarten on Idzikowski, which I loved and to which I traveled by tram, I found myself in the city of fullruin, where it was difficult for me to find a way to school five minutes for the first days.In the apartment for 1.Maja, where we lived with my mother and grandmother "mommy", you had to move the beds from the walls: bugs even fell from the ceiling for a long time, they failed to exterminate them.

Then I got used to the new environment.I made friendships, some of which have survived to this day.I loved Nysa, where I was home, which I returned to, first in the period in Krakow and work in Warsaw, and then, as a married woman, from Italy.The two older sons were born in Nysa and spent many holidays in Jakódzia and teenagers.I have a great fondness for Nysa and I always come back to her with emotion.

Exile to Nysa was not exile.She is a mother, as a young, extremely promising assistant to an outstanding pediatrician, Professor Bogdanowicz, got a work order on the so -called.Regained lands.It was undoubtedly a punishment for being the wife of a "enemy" and that she is "politically managed" herself.

Mama heroically passed this difficultEgzamin.Organized a pediatric ward.She was "at call" 24 hours a day.She never refused to help anyone, at the same time raising me, caring for both grandmothers, one of whom (her mother) was paralyzed.

A bus full of grateful people came to the funeral of a mother who died in Warsaw.

Marcin Kozarzewski (conservator of monuments, entrepreneur, academic lecturer):

- in published in 1947.in Buenosaires and New York [1], the addressed dosage recipient of the book are reports of the first few post -war political sets, where, among the relations regarding the crimes committed by the transmitted right -wing combat organizations on Jewish Jewish communist activists, there was also information about the spy process "Konrad".In accordance with the judgments ofStalinist courts, all the judgment was thrown in the for one propaganda bag: "Fascists", "Gestapo followers", "Traitor".Such a assumed narrative appears sometimes and today.Was it so?

From Mauthausen, my father returned with a souling bracelet made of a camp spoon, a gift from Hungarian, which he helped.His organizational companion,Sławomir Modzelewski, co -accused and also condemned to death in the same process, has his own gun in the garden of the righteous at the Instituteyad Vashem.I recently found my father's manuscript from 1943 or 1944.(without the date, it contains the formulation of good four years of war), i.e. from the period when he was an active manner of NSZ (he was in an interview with the Krakow district, he also belonged to the organization, i.e. the secret internal organization of the National Radical Camp).I wrote.in.: Each propaganda - regardless of whether it is led by a partia -political or by the Church - harms the size of man, is, in short, a sin of someone else (i.e..urging to sin - M.K.) [...].And if I take my hand any of our permanent publications, I am overwhelmed by a feeling.I meet the propaganda of the national movement everywhere.The press was swollen on the pathos of great words and great declarations.It is constantly talking about a great one that none other than anyone, but we want to realize.When he reads it, they copisz or listen to what people from our movement say - the impression is that only the grace of reasonable and intelligent miracle is given to the national movement ...

From the time when our men's democracy was born, I remember, after one of the meetings of solidarity activists, Wnysie (he was invited there as a guru) did not hide his desperation: "They want to get rid of the only man who knows anything because he is party!".Unfortunately, to this day hunting on "resorts", on "fascists", on "gays" ... the drama of our social discourse, once and now, root of evil, not only in politics.

There is no memory in me about my father's compact message.I carry snapshot images, shreds of sentences, mentioned not important moments at all.

A cheerful father, singing Titin, Ah, Titina, she was a cuddzen.

A strong father, taking a ten -year -old to the mountains, our men's trips, in two.As a boy, I was afraid of him, not that he would hurt, I was afraid that I would not meet or let me down.

Yellow -green eye radio eye.Father, with a hand on the potentiometer knob."Here is the Polish Radio Free Europe" ...

Father recalling: "In the sanatorium (he always said so about staying in prison)," on a duel "," There is no municipalists ".

Father in long conversations with the trail he met will be: "You are from Ternopil?", "How do you know?", "I hear!".

Father, solving Feinman's tasks and improving my work from history and Polish;the temperament was goponous and often wrote for me.

Plan, there was always a plan: garden, letters, shopping, trip, exit - punctually and with the plan.Life is a task, no waste of time.And this is a damn sense of duty.Mom at times the missing was made.

Father-accounting, over the careful home accounts, unable to understand a mother who never did not have how much she spent and how much it costs.

Father and form: "Do you have dark clothes for the evening?".His pre -war tailcoat from Zaremba survived to the flood.He was good at me, I measured.I still wear his ties.He did not buy laws.There is one special, my favorite, Japanese.He got it in the early 1970s.from Narciso Yepes when he expressed admiration for the fabric.Father "Piwniczny": a worn chałat and a beret who gives the mother and sisters "for melancholy".Were to move.Shelves made of slats and wire and supplies. Zapasy wszystkiego: jabłka,węgiel, koks, tokaj z naszych winogron, kompoty, musy, żyletki zasłużone wutrzymaniu należytej gładzi policzków, nadpalone czajniki, kłębki sznurków,druty, kolekcja krzywych gwoździ, opakowane w szary papier i opisane roczniki: „Tygodnik Powszechny” 19XX, brak n-ru XX,biblioteka ciotki, która nie mieściła się w domu.Already after the death of the father, during the flood, all this treasury drowned.Stuck with sludge, molding books, and on one of the wardrobes, an untouched, dry manuscript of poems from the prison in Mokotów.

Letters from the Father.He often started: I write hastily - a few sentences of domestic session and then a conservative essay on one and a half side - confidently parties of the normalized typescript, which he broke, when the end of the card refused to him about another commitment: sisters, aunt, Iksińscy, Paniigrekowska, all others waiting for this signlife, memory and heart.

They lead me in handcuffs.Under the window of the UBK, which I told during the interrogation that if I put it in, it will be a pig.I am publicly fulfilling this declaration.Only;.

Head tilted to the side, grasshopping siwekosmyki, glasses at the end of the nose, plaid on the knees, shallow, wheezing asthmatics, a book contradicting the law of gravity.

Like a thief, I look home in Nysa, rushing to the south.Half an hour at the table.They sit on the obvious and look at me eat.Then I see their gray heads disappearing in a car mirror.And a father sending a kiss with a hand: the thumb upwards inside, four connected fingers touch the upper lip and then this characteristic movement.

Our last conversation: "Son, I had a long and happy life".

My dad

MariaSterczyńska (pianist, pedagogue at theState Music Team No. 1 in Warsaw and at the Fryderykopina Music University in Warsaw):

I organize something that the workoma called snapshots, and I took over the name.It is difficult to write about the father, something in the throat is squeezing.Dad built all his life and worried - it was a very very feature of his.I am thinking of both everyday poison (garden, basement, cleanbuted pots, etc..), as about the effort related to improving yourself and building relationships with other people.The father had a very remembered nature, he was spontaneous and extremely empathic.He gave himself, bitelessly, always meeting the needs of his neighbor.EverySunday, after returning from the church, he sat down to the typewriter and wrote to all, old, distressed, lonely.Father's letters had a special destruction - first they touched the essence of the addressee's problem, and in the further part relationships about the family, close, fascinating, and political situations, to finally take this poor patient, old distracted words of support, encouragement, cordial thoughts intended only to Denkago.I think that more than once, feeling terrible, he did not have the strength of the Anyrox..But the intention was superior (the father used thisSlaw) and the vision of what such a letter may mean for someone who is alone, sick, does not leave the house.Father's letters, written in a beautiful, rampany region, undoubtedly have a literary value to this day, but the addressees gathering not for these values.I myself have a carton of my dad's letters and I am still not ready to open it yet.I was once told to me by a woman's dad's o'cidly gesture - the family of this girl's fiance.The father knew about it and thought it was harmful.When these young people with my parents met, he hugged this girl with a bouquet of violets!She told me after many years that it gave her strength and is still grateful to her father to this day.I also wrote about sensitive material deficiencies.Someone hungry for the door is knocking on the door very often, Gypsies, a large family, Mirga was regularly reported once a week.They always got bread, something to eat, but not money.One day I returned home and dad, despite the very hard asthma at the time, he was in the basement (which my mother made a living desperation).I went downstairs to say hello to him and persuade him to return to the home.I saw 824 pairs to my dispos.It turned out that Mirga would come tomorrow, and that he has seven children, husband, brother, father, five cousins and numerous friends and everyone is without shoes, so dad decided to make an inventory in old shoes.They shone, mimostrity, and he coughed terribly.

He knew and remembered the names of all children living in the area, it was extraordinary when he walked down the street Iodpit to "good morning", using the names of the surrounding children..Aim someone was smaller or rank, the more careful he turned to him.I remember the bitterness in my father's voice when the mother of a sick child (unknown) called and sought help, and the mothers were not at home.Dad tried to help then - either by providing the address of another doctor, or - if my mother was all, directing contact.When I became a mother myself, I thought about the importance of the patient's full anxiety, that instead of a casual one: "There is no wife, I don't know when she would be", she met with kindness and attempt to help.Remember to the parade of liars and Blagiers, which Anna writes about.My admiration lasted for many years, and besides it was real, I got to know many words, meanings, terms, and I still know what popocatepetl or axelbants are to this day.I think today that my dad had to be preparing for these games with us, because he had great knowledge, but also, ilemotal.The sensation in Nysa was the ping -pong table, which the father ordered, after which he had a combination and assembled for us, he cut out the palettes himself.

There was also a father in his own way - some issues were not talked about because they were so bright, obvious icclavious that there are no questions.It was so that with his attitude, behavior, he was tatavian by a certain code and it would not occur to us to ask why, for example,.You must not steal.Dad attached great importance to the forms.He never sat down the table until my mother sat down.He gave her a coat until the end of his life, opened the door, kissed it for a good morning.Mom, being a beautiful woman, never did not get her beauty with makeup, hair dyeing, nail painting.Dad loved this design, he doesn't like sharp makeup, red nails, etc..procedures.Both with Anna painted, we wore mini, neckline and tight blouses.Dad did not say anything, but there was a sad way a sad way.Once, when I was14, going to a disco, I got dressed in the shortest skirt and standing in front of the mirror, I admired my fomine.The father looked with my sight, went to the kitchen and after a while he returned with scissors: "I think, daughter, that this skirt is too long".I was once visited by a fan.Dad looked into the so -called.a living room where I checked my friend mercilessly.As usual, warmly greeted (anyone who entered our home could have been to the fact that he was the expected and most pleasantly seen guest, regardless of whether he was Mr. Hydraulik or a friend for a notebook) and came out.He after me that a woman should not play with a man's feelings and to do so carelessly.I did not understand it then, thinking that the difference of one and a half years explains such a discrepancy.I know now that it was something completely.

We had a great book collection.Well, like young people, we borrowed books right and left to anyone who asked us here.Dad founded a home file like in a library.It was entered, which he came out, which does not change the fact that a lot of valuable books did not return to Dodom.Every evening, my father made bills, a notebook was preserved equally.This is impressive, and I think it resulted from caring for money to be enough for the whole month, especially since my father's earnings were, my mother worked until the bankrupt, there were three and the so -called.The planned economy was necessary.Dad tried to teach us respect for money, temporal goods, nature (it was not allowed to shorten the path through the lawn), animals (he loved dogs and talked to them), but also to a great extent he developed a sense of the right to his own opinion, he cared for courageHe provoked a civilian, even ace of loss.He loved music, especially Beethoven, reacted to it spontaneously, conducting, singing ... He had a special love of the violin concert D.If it happened that he was annoyed by something angry, and the plaintiff was not a heavy caliber, he always apologized to sensitivity or anger.He was unconsciously in love with my grandchildren.


[1] s.L.SHNAYDERMAN, TSVISHNShrek Unhofenung.A reyze Iber dem nayem Poyln, Buenos Aires, Tsentral Farbandfun Poylishe yidn in Argentine, 1947, s.148–149.S.L.Shnayderman, Between Fear and Hope, NewYork, Arco Pub.What., 1947, print., s.210.