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Paul Gorka

"To get more serious about my life."

Canada
male
separated, 1 child
Speaks: Polish, German as a 2nd language, English as 3rd language
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   I don't really know how this thing works, so... let's bring some chaos here!It’s been already a while since my birthday (Apr. 30), but there is a few things that come to my mind every year around this time, and I’d like to share them with… anybody who’s reading this. To grab your attention (especially of those who are “into numbers”, and stuff), I was born in April 30, 1958, exactly 13 years after Adolf Hitler’s death… OK, I’m not ‘into numbers”, and to us, me and my friends, in those ‘old, good, high school times’, it was just one more ‘toast to raise’; “To our Fuerer! And His never dying…” Whatever, I know, it sounds horrrrible…  To make fun of all those atrocities that the War had brought! Of course, if I were a person of any significance, and wrote it in, say, some paper that people read, I can imagine the uproar coming from all those Jewish organizations… But, do you remember those poor kids, who ‘for fun’ burned an American flag a couple of months ago? In response to an obvious ‘national outrage’, they said it was supposed to be a joke… What’s funny about it? No idea. How to explain it, but we did it to ‘vent our frustration’. We were sooo tired of all this endless talking about Holocaust (and the war in general), and using it as a significant part of their (the communists’) propaganda… “Love thy (Eastern) neighbor, as that’s where the freedom came from!” And, talking about flags? OK, after all those toasts (mostly to my health!), drunk and happy, we’d take our party ‘out, to the streets’! The town would be asleep, and ready to celebrate… a day off, actually. May 1 was, of course, the May (Labor) Day, one of the most festive communist holidays, but for us, ‘commons’, it was ‘an extra Sunday’. And that was a definitive upside for me, I could always give away a party on the very day of my birth. So, in those wee hours of the May celebrations, we’d go out to wrap up our party. Traditionally, every year, above each door in every building, there were hung two flags, our Polish (white and red), and Soviet (all red, with those funny sickle and hammer…) We’d rip off those loathed red ones, and start goofing around, using them as… handkerchiefs, toilet paper, you know the drill? Kids… Then we’d step on them, urinate… You know, ‘funny stuff’. If you’re young, drunk and rebellious… It was in under regime!    OK, there is no punch line here. Just a handful of my ‘birthday reflections’… Cheers!   
 
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