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OUR LIFE MONTHLY, published by Ukrainian Notional Womens League of America Vol. XXXIII DECEMBER 1976 _______________________________ No. 11 Editor Marta Baczynsky CHRYSTOS RODYWSJA With the approaching Christmas Holidays, we offer sincere greetings to Regional Councils, to all Branches and all members of Ukrainian National Women’s League of America. We extend our greetings to our honorary President Lidia Burachynska. To our fellow countrymen in theUkraine — a blessed Christmas of strength and hope. To all our friends throughout the world we offer our best wishes for a Happy prosperous and joyous New Year and a Blessed Christmas. The Executive Committee U. N. W. L. A. IN MEMORY OF HELEN LOTOTSKY. Most of us saw Mrs. Helen Lototsky for the last time during the XVII Convention of U.N.W.L.A. in New York in 1974. This Convention celebrated the 50th birthday of our organization, of which Mrs. Lototsky was a co founder. Now, on the first anniversary of her death, we look in retrospect at the woman who was Helen Lototsky and find a person of strong character and a loving dis position. Time will never diminish her memory, only accentuate and underline her life as a positive example for all. One of the most notable traits of her character was the ability to reach people. It is said that the distance from star to star is sometimes lesser than that between two people. Helen Lototsky bridged that gap very easily with a sincere interest in the people she met, which put them at ease at once. Her enthusiasm for projects at hand carried over to her co-workers and from her they learned to accept whatever task not as a burden, but as a joyous, impor tant contribution to the overall commitment. Her pleasant manner always created an atmosphere of con fidence and trust. Helen Lototsky was able to success fully communicate with people — a rare gift. She is missed today. The legacy of her wise leader ship, hard work and loving kindness will forever en shrine Helen Lototsky not only on the honor roll of our organization, but in all our hearts. i VASYL STEFANYK An Ancient Melody My sister and I sat on top of the clay-stove1 in our white, shirts. Mother, still quite young, awaited the coming of the carol-singers from the church Brotherhood. Her white hemstitched sleeves seemed glad to cover her strong youthful arms. "Children, don’t be naughty when the Brothers come. Do be quiet. You’ll find honey cakes and sugar up there. You may have as much as you like, only behave yourselves.” In a little while we heard the creaking of big boots in the snow in front of the windows. A hurricane of an ancient melody burst from manly chests. The carol told of a knight and how his faithful steed reproached him: " You w ill s e ll me a n d then grieve as y o u re c a ll m e ." The horse continued to remind the knight of the wars he had carried him through — those with the Polovetsians,2 Turks Muscovites. The refrain of Ukrainian history sounded heroically counted by that horse. "B e h in d me ca nn on s roa re d like th u n d e r." I became frightened of those cannons and hid in the corner. But out of sympathy for the steed I began to cry. And Maria said: ’’You’re always silly!” For this she got a poke in the ribs from me and began to bawl. Mother could hardly make us calm down. The carol-singers came into the house. The loaves of plaited bread on the table were almost as large as they. They carolled for mother, and they carolled for Maria, while behind me, on top of the clay-stove, cannons roared like thunder. And I was dying to see that steed, for he must have been different from our horses which pull the plow. ’’Brother Semen, we will now carol for your little boy.” ”lf you please, Brothers.” "Early, very e a rly V a s y l3 arose, B y the firs t candle he w ashed his face, B y the se con d he dressed h im s e lf apace, B y the th ird he sa dd le d his h orse..." It seemed to me that I was already in the saddle and firmly vowing never to sell my steed; НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ, ГРУДЕНЬ 1976 29
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