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“НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ЧЕРВЕНЬ 2018 WWW. UNWLA .ORG 1 7 REMEMBERING OLEH OLZHYCH Ukrainian history is a litany of heroes and heroines who lived (and sometimes died) in a determined strug- gle for an independent Ukraine. One of those heroic figures was Oleh Olzhych, who also went by several pseudonyms or noms de guerre . An archaeologist, poet and nationalist leader, Olzhych was a renowned and well - respected intellectual who accepted an invitation as a guest lecturer at Harvard University during the 1930s. As a member of the Organization of Ukrainian N ationalists (OUN), he was actively invo lved in the underground resistance movement. He also headed the cultural and educational branch of OUN, a role that ended when he was arrested by the Gestapo and sent to Sachsenhausen - Oranienberg camp, which supplied slave labor for German armaments factor ies (in the camp and elsewhere). Olzhych was brutally tortured and died on June 9, 1944. His name is enshrined with the legion of other martyrs who gave their lives for their country. It is also enshrined in the minds and the hearts of many Ukrainians who emigrated to the United States after World War II, a hromada community that included educational institutions and various activities for children, including summer camps. ___________________________________ Rediscovering Oleh Olzhych Once upon a time, my parents decided to send me to a Ukrainian summer camp. Soyuzivka was too expen- sive and too far, and I didn’t belong to Plast yet, so I was shipped off to a camp run by the Ukrainian Gold Cross, a woman’s organization affiliated with OD WU (Organization for the Rebirth of Ukraine). ODWU had purchased a large tract of land in the Pocono Mountains not far from the town of Lehighton, Pennsyl- vania , and had created a Ukrainian Homestead, an estate honoring the memory of Oleh Olzhych. And it wa s here that I became one of a large contingent of happy campers. To most campers and to other Ukrain- ians who purchased land or homes adjacent to the property, it was simply “the oселя .” The girls at the camp stayed in a small barrack - style structure adja cent to an old abandoned barn on one side and a dilapidated but still functional swimming pool on the other. We had real beds (4 to 6 per room) and plenty of room to stow our clothes and other belongings . Just across the road from the girls’ barracks was a n old springhouse; the cold clean water that issued from the ground below the springhouse was a welcome treat on hot days. Adjacent to this was the біла хата (the white house), which was occupied by the male camp counsellors and sometimes by guests or by v isiting parents who chose this as a cheaper alternative to lodgings in town . The boys stayed in an abandoned chicken coop remodeled into barracks, a bit up the hill from the girls’ barracks. Somewhere between the two barrack buildings was a field with two flag poles (one for the Ukrainian flag and one for the flag of the United States of America). Every morning and evening, we would gather here for prayer and for announcements by the camp administrators or the camp counsellors. Somewhat higher up this hill was a grand old building we called the “palata” (palace), an elegant old mansion with lots of rooms and a circular veranda where we had our meals, served in ce- ramic bowls and plates with real cutlery. Not far from the pala ta was an open field where we play ed games like гниле яйце (rotten egg), learned rudimentary gymnastics, and had evening campfires where we sang beautiful Ukrainian songs. The camp administrators included a doctor and a number of individuals who served as activities coordinators and instr uctors from whom we learned a lot of this and a little of that. My favorite was a woman named Veronika Cehelsky who was the music directress and who introduced me to what became and still remains my favorite Ukrainian song: Чи знаєш Ти найкращу в світі піс ню ? (Do You Know the Most Beautiful Song in the World?). Other fun activities included hikes to Flagstaff Park (popularly called “the Switzerland of America”), which featured an amazing panoramic view and a lovely little gift shop that sold little carved w ooden animals and post cards. Not far from the palata was a large building (actually, the old stables) that had no particular name but had a huge hall where camp dances and special commemorative events were held. The building also had a bar. Just above this hall was the upper road that bordered the oселя . And it was in the parking lot just below this upper road that I experienced my most harrowing moment of camp life. Someone in the administration had m ade arrangements for a local farmer to bring ponies to the camp. We all oohed and aa h ed at the little critters, and everyone wanted to get a ride. I waited my turn with the rest of the kids and was finally hoisted onto the saddle worn by a cute little brown and white pony. My delight last ed about
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