I grew up surrounded by old photos. They were everywhere. In drawers, suitcases, boxes… However, over time, they began to disappear. Faces and places on them became anonymous. Tales vanished into the mists of time. They were like magnets to my thoughts. They must have been significant. They must have meant something. Who were they? What was their story? I had to find out.

"Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can’t remember who we are or why we’re here." - Sue Monk Kidd

My earliest memories

I lived in a large house built by my grandparents after World War II. Previously on this site was my ancestor’s small old wooden cottage. From the window of my room, I had a view straight at the historic iron bridge. I regularly crossed the bridge to visit my cousins on the other side of the Vistula River.

The first time I connected this bridge to history was when I was a child. It was then that the film crew came to the town. That was quite an event for such a small and sleepy place. The old iron bridge was cut off. For a relatively short time, this part of the town was moved back into the past.

My neighbour, a relative of mine, was employed there as an extra; he and his horse ploughing the field next to the river. He reported that the Austrian soldiers in their old-fashioned uniforms were walking on the bridge. The tarmac was covered with gravel. The clock went backwards to the beginning of the 1900s. I didn’t see it myself because the view was obstructed, but my imagination has woven a vivid picture.

Maps Data: Google

The Quest | Years later…

Being curious, I loved exploring the environment I lived in. When I was taking photos, I looked closely at that iron bridge, where the family saga “The White Visiting Card” was filmed in the past, and noticed a plaque dating from 1910. I knew I had my own family story to discover, and I felt the bridge played a role in their life, too.

Since then, I’ve spent hours collecting my relatives' memories as well as searching the internet for additional information. That’s how I got to know my Uncle Artur and Aunt Ala from Wroclaw, both passionate historians. For many years, they meticulously went through archives gathering information, which they kindly shared with me.

Together, we began rediscovering the people’s identities in the old photos and the stories behind them. While I kept asking those closest to me, I heard the nickname “Stareczka” frequently. It means “old lady” but in a nice way, and you could feel the warmth in the tone of the relatives saying it. As her nickname implies, she had a long life and witnessed the passing of time and changes. I wish she could tell me her story.

I remember the yellowish letters covered with my ancestors’ handwriting that slumbered quietly for so many years in the drawer of the old dresser in the attic. I wish my mother hadn’t burnt them without warning. Through these letters, my ancestors could speak for themselves. I still have many questions. Sadly, that opportunity was lost to ash.

Two Houses, Two Families | Austrian Partition

Two houses stood opposite the iron bridge. To the left was an old wooden cottage. Rumour has it that it used to be an old inn, and to the right, a brick one.

Map by Klemens Matusiak with the marked route from Ostrava to Strumień

The Wooden Cottage

In 1910, the iron bridge over the river was started, and in the same year, Jozef and Marianna Biel, my great-great-grandparents, purchased the wooden cottage in Strumień. They both came from poor families and they worked hard for it. Jozef Biel left the impoverished village of Mokrzyska in his early 20s and travelled 130 km to industrial Silesia to work as a miner. Here, he met his wife, Marianna, and they married in Ostrava, the same city where the iron bridge from Strumień was made.

I can imagine their joy and how impatient they were to move and celebrate their first Christmas in their own house. But they had to wait for the bridge to join two sides of the river leading into the heart of Strumień so they could cross it with the newly built local steam railway. Looking at the map, it was the easiest route to get there

Therefore, they waited. In the meantime, Marianna gave birth to her son. She hoped she wouldn’t lose her newborn, as her previous child died at only six months old. The family was essential for her, as she was born out of wedlock and knew the hardship all too well. In 1911, they finally moved with their five children to a house they could call their own. It was a new beginning with hopes for a better future.

Years ago I was inspired by my family history. I made that short 2D animation when learning Flash (currently Adobe Animate).

The cottage was made of old dark wooden logs with an attached outbuilding. The garden had a few orchard trees and a simple wayside shrine on the wooden pole with a picture of Saint Marie for protection. From the small windows, Marianna could see clouds of smoke from the steam railway that regularly passed through the iron bridge. Also, Zarzecze village, where she was born, was on the other side of the river, only 7 km away.

Suddenly, at the age of 43, she found herself widowed with her six children. Her oldest child was 18 years old, and the youngest was only four.

The Brick House

Only a few years after the cottage, the brick house was bought in 1914 by the Skorupa family. Not only them but also the generations before them were tenants only. Now, their fortune had changed, but in the same year, it was dimmed by the shadow of the First World War. Soon, two young lads from that home had to join the army. Luckily, they returned home, and one of them, Jerzy, soon opened his own profitable business. Where had they got the money from? How did they make that fortune? My uncle and I are puzzled—there are still so many family mysteries waiting to be solved.

Two Houses, One Family | Independent Poland & German Invasion

Stefania Biel was the oldest of Marianna’s children, so after the death of her father, the burden of helping her mother and the younger siblings fell to her, too.

A year later, she married Jerzy in 1919 and started a family there. They knew each other well as they lived and grew up side by side.

Jerzy continued developing the business and actively participated in public life in Strumień. The photo from the monograph of Strumień shows he also belonged to the Association of Non-Commissioned Officers of the Reserve of the Republic of Poland in 1931.

Jerzy and Stefania Skorupa are pictured with their sons. The photo was taken around 1932.

Only a few months after the outbreak of World War II, my great-grandfather Jerzy Skorupa died suddenly of a heart attack in March 1940. He left behind a widow with seven children and his butchery business.

While Stefania ran the company after her husband’s death, her mother, Marianna, cooked for the grandkids. She pampered them, secretly giving them the tastiest bits of sausages. Despite the fact they produced them, so had plenty of them, their mother was known to be stingy and stern.

Next Generation | WWII Turmoil and Afterward

The Nazis compelled Silesians to sign the Deutsche Volksliste since the region was once divided between Prussia and Austria. Stefania signed it, but her eldest son, Rudolf, refused. The younger siblings, however, were taken one by one to join the Wehrmacht. Many of them deserted it, just like my grandfather did. Some of them, when given a chance, switched allegiances. Some were sent to the camps. Some were injured. But all of the seven brothers survived the war.

My grandfather, Wiktor, returned to Strumień after the war. However, post-war turmoil scattered many of his brothers all over Poland. In spite of this, they still visited their home town regularly.

Rudolf, the oldest of the siblings, established a photo studio in Bolesławiec. Later, he passed it on to his younger brother Alojzy, who remained devoted to his passion until the end of his days. Thanks to him, we have most photos of the family life with Strumień firmly in the background.

In the picture below, Alojzy stands in the centre, holding the camera. His mother is next to him on the left, and his grandmother, Marianna Biel, is on the right end.

The fence visible in the picture separated the two homes. They removed one picket panel on the left side to create a free passage between the brick house, where Stefania and her sons lived, and the wooden cottage belonging to her mother.

Later, the gate was installed there, as I recall from childhood. Afterwards, a new fence was put up dividing it.

Marianna Biel is holding a bottle in the photo. My great-grandmother Stefania and her daughter can be seen in the picture behind her.

As in this picture, and also in life, Marianna was remembered as a very kind and cheerful person by my grandfather, her grandson, despite her tough and challenging life.

Marianna Biel witnessed and cared for many generations. She has seen the changes taking place in the town.

Her home village, Zarzecze, started to be displaced and was flooded by the waters of the Goczałkowice Reservoir. As a result, the Vistula River current flowing under the iron bridge opposite her house in Strumień changed from swiftly flowing under which you could see gravel to slow, cloudy, and murky. Two years later, after the flooding, she passed at the age of 82.

She was the one called with the affection “Stareczka”

"I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." - Maya Angelou

As the years went by, the later generations visited the remaining family in Strumień less and less often, and many family ties were broken. Luckily, I reconnected with my family from Wroclaw and my aunt Ala, the photographer’s daughter. She had many photos to share, some of which I present here.

The Identity | Present Times

The family’s fate, although from different places, intersected in Strumień. If my great-great grandparents hadn’t decided to put their roots in Strumień, as well as the succeeding generations, I would not have been brought up in the house with the view to the iron bridge.

The narratives presented here are only related to two houses. Each has its history of generations. The stories weave together an image of society. Being brought up there, observing and experiencing how the past had its impact on those close to me had, consequently, on me, too.

Not only were the ancestors' decisions vital, but emotions were also. Kindness helps us to survive hardship because we need a safe place in order to thrive. I was lucky to have such a kind person near me. I miss her much. It was my grandma Andzia, but she deserves a separate chapter - as she is the heart of this project.