My Baba and her story!

Thank goodness for Agent Jennie Sarnoski’s baba. The grandmother who came from the old country as a child and steps in during Jennie’s time of need. Left by the boy she loves, alone, pregnant, and terrified, she survives because of help from the funny yet kindhearted old lady she adores. 

Her daughter, Lisa, grows up searching for her father, the man her mother refuses to discuss. Unwilling to stop, she finally gets to meet him.

In one night, Officer Kane Lambert’s life deteriorates immensely. First, a daughter who he never knew existed, shows up and learns he’s mixed up with a group of white supremacists. She just doesn’t know the most important point – he’s undercover.

Then his backup gets arrested… and by the woman who hates his guts and for very good reason, he left her when she needed him the most. To make matters worse, the men he’s supposed to be affiliated with grabs his Lisa and she’s in danger of getting raped.

How the hell can things get worse?

Except… they do.

(Baba & Poppa John)

Because of memories shared featuring my beloved baba, (Poppa John’s mother), this book has some humorous moments but the actual subject is terrifying and so it needed lighthearted incidents.

I’m sure many of you remember your grandmother with fond memories of good times. Well, my Baba came from Poland (she referred to her home as the old country) and loved to tell stories about her arrival in Saskatchewan, Canada where her father met herself, her mother, two brothers, and two sisters (one brother died on the boat) in a wagon pulled by oxen. He took them back to his newly acquired farmland where he’d started building them a sod hut.

She’d explain how the rest of the summer had been spent with everyone working feverishly because they had a deadline. Her parents and brothers put in a huge garden and fields filled with crops. The other children mixed clay to fill the holes in the walls of the barn and house. They gathered berries and fruit to put in the rock cellar and in jars. They all struggled to get ready for the coming extreme weather.

In her very broken English, she would tell us about how hard they worked, every one had to help, and how lucky they were to have survived the harsh winters.

In my late teens, when my own parents moved to an isolated mining town, I lived with her and my sister for a year, gained twenty pounds, and had the time of my life. She was a miracle and has put life into my story, making it a lot of fun to write. The memories poured in… that old woman was a tiny little bundle of pure love.

***I also owe the title of this story to two wonderful readers I want to acknowledge. One is called Lennie and the other Janine. When I put those names together… well you know the rest.

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