Podcast: My Lithuanian Pride
Script:
Hello there! My name is SN and I am a freshman at Chicago’s GCE Lab School. I live in Wilmette - just north of the city. Although my neighborhood is not very diverse, my school is. I have classmates of various races, ethnicities, and religions. On the surface, I may look like your average, teenage, white boy, but, actually, I come from a family with a very rich Lithuanian heritage. This heritage helps to define me and remind me that I am more than just a boy born in Chicago and raised in the suburbs.
When I want to hear the truth of my Lithuanian roots - facts based in reality - I turn to my maternal grandmother and grandfather, Ciute and Tukas. They were both born in Lithuania and, as small children, were forced to flee the country with their families during the war. My grandfather, Tukas, has a particularly interesting past. In 1941, Tukas’s father - my great-grandfather, Adolfas Damusis - was one of the organizers of the anti-Soviet uprising. He was the leader of the Lithuanian Activist Front’s military staff and the Minister of Industry in Lithuania’s short-lived Provisional Government. In 1944, my great-grandfather was captured by the Gestapo (Nazi political police) and charged with treason for his participation as Vice President of the Supreme Committee for the Liberation of Lithuania. He was placed in a concentration camp and his execution was scheduled when allied forces liberated him in 1946.
When Tukas tells me about his family’s history, no matter how much time has passed, I can still hear the fear and pride in his voice. He becomes very serious as he describes the night his father was captured by Nazi police - how he was asleep in the room he shared with his little brother, and how my great-grandfather rushed into their room with his coat and hat, kissed each of them on the forehead, and escaped through the back door. Just as he left, the Gestapo burst into the house and chased after him through the backyard. Tukas remembers hearing a gunshot ring out. After that night, he didn’t see his father for two years until his liberation in 1946.
This experience, along with the experience of immigrating to the United States, shaped my grandfather and the choices he made throughout his life. He married a Lithuanian woman and raised his children to speak the language, learn the history, and practice Lithuanian culture. My mom, in turn, has done the same for me and my siblings.
Although I don’t speak the language fluently, I do have a few little known facts I would like to share about myself. I participated in Lithuanian folk dancing for 7 years, I know a few Lithuanian songs, I love to eat popular Lithuanian dishes, and still visit the Lithuanian youth camp my great-grandparents started back in 1955 - Camp Dainava. The camp is located near Ann Arbor, Michigan. It is the only place where I get a sense of Lithuania and feel most connected to my roots.
When I want to hear the truth of my Lithuanian roots - facts based in reality - I turn to my maternal grandmother and grandfather, Ciute and Tukas. They were both born in Lithuania and, as small children, were forced to flee the country with their families during the war. My grandfather, Tukas, has a particularly interesting past. In 1941, Tukas’s father - my great-grandfather, Adolfas Damusis - was one of the organizers of the anti-Soviet uprising. He was the leader of the Lithuanian Activist Front’s military staff and the Minister of Industry in Lithuania’s short-lived Provisional Government. In 1944, my great-grandfather was captured by the Gestapo (Nazi political police) and charged with treason for his participation as Vice President of the Supreme Committee for the Liberation of Lithuania. He was placed in a concentration camp and his execution was scheduled when allied forces liberated him in 1946.
When Tukas tells me about his family’s history, no matter how much time has passed, I can still hear the fear and pride in his voice. He becomes very serious as he describes the night his father was captured by Nazi police - how he was asleep in the room he shared with his little brother, and how my great-grandfather rushed into their room with his coat and hat, kissed each of them on the forehead, and escaped through the back door. Just as he left, the Gestapo burst into the house and chased after him through the backyard. Tukas remembers hearing a gunshot ring out. After that night, he didn’t see his father for two years until his liberation in 1946.
This experience, along with the experience of immigrating to the United States, shaped my grandfather and the choices he made throughout his life. He married a Lithuanian woman and raised his children to speak the language, learn the history, and practice Lithuanian culture. My mom, in turn, has done the same for me and my siblings.
Although I don’t speak the language fluently, I do have a few little known facts I would like to share about myself. I participated in Lithuanian folk dancing for 7 years, I know a few Lithuanian songs, I love to eat popular Lithuanian dishes, and still visit the Lithuanian youth camp my great-grandparents started back in 1955 - Camp Dainava. The camp is located near Ann Arbor, Michigan. It is the only place where I get a sense of Lithuania and feel most connected to my roots.
I believe, in order to deepen our understanding of who we are, it helps us to know where we came from. My knowledge and reality of being 50% Lithuanian grounds me. It feels like the base layer of the many other layers to who I am - not just another white boy from the suburbs.
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