We stopped at the sign telling us we were entering Piatkowizna. I had my picture taken standing under the sign to prove I had gotten to my roots, Piotr Mozdzen's home village; the place where he had been born, grew up, and became a young man.
Across the road from the sign, a small farm is located. On a power line pole, as is the case in many places in Poland, a stork's nest was perched with 3 storks: the mother, father and youngster. I took some pictures; turned to the farm house admiring the many flowers on the front steps and in the garden.
Our genealogist, meanwhile went to the back of the house to a barn where some men were loading a cow to be transported on a small trailer pulled by a tractor to somewhere. She said to me: "Time to search for Mozdzens." She proceeded up to the men and started a conversation in Polish. By this part of the trip I had come to understand enough that I knew Alexsandra was speaking of me and what I was seeking. The conversation quickly brought much of the family: young boys and girls, dogs and cats, and all who were working in the barns and fields. Everyone seemed to have some thoughts; but no one knew for sure. They were all too young!
See part 2 in next entry.
Dziadzio Mozdzen
Sent from my iPad
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