It might seem odd or even unbelievable to those who can clearly say, I am Irish," or "I am Norwegian, "that there could be a people who could not describe their ethnic identity for generations. The essential problem was stated by Michael Novak of the American Enterprise Institute in his forward to Magocsi's Our People/ Carpatho-Rusyns and Their Descendants in North America, "The world is fuller of peoples than of states."

The problems that our village-centric ancestors had in describing themselves led naturally to identification problems as they entered the United States. People from the same village could have Austria, Galicia, Austrian-Poland or Russia listed as their place of origin. Our people had no nationality for they were a tiny ethnic group in a small province in a huge empire. They were dependent upon ship and immigration officials for identification since they could not identify themselves.

A problem shared with other cultural groups was that of different names being given to the same person by ship officials, U.S census-takers, priests, midwives and bureaucrats. Names too became Americanized as the first steps of assimilation took place. Wasyl could become Vasil, Vasily, Basil and Walter. Josaphat could become Asaphat, Asapoh, Joseah, Jozefus and John. Members of the same Szach family could have Shak, Schach Seak, Shachy, Sahchaky and Shaw as the names they were given or took in their new country.

A unique situation involves Carpatho-Rusyn naming patterns in which the same names were used over and over. Since Rusyn children did not receive middle names and so many families gave the same name for the first several children, there are many people with identical names who are not related. In addition, infant mortality was high and some families gave the same name again and again when a child died until it was given to a child who survived.

Another significant pattern mentioned often on genealogical forums was the reluctance or even refusal of Rusyn immigrants to speak of the old country. Whether memories of semi-starvation and political oppression, embarrassment about the "backwardness" of peasant life, sorrow at the loss of their beautiful homeland and beloved family members-or any combination of these factors-caused this silence, it was a common pattern and prevented the "stories of the old land" that other cultures have passed down through the generations. The short lives of many of our ancestors (the average life span in Pennsylvania at the turn of the last century was 47) also contributed to the early loss of knowledge about the homeland they had left.

The illiteracy with which Rusyn peasants entered America created another research void. It is estimated that 70% of Rusyn immigrants over the age of 14 were illiterate upon arrival in this country. There are no introspective journals recording first impressions of America or letters back and forth between the old country and the new to aid the researcher.

Similarly, poverty and absence of leisure did not lead to numerous photographs recording our ancestors' lives. The photographs we have of our grandparents and great-grandparents are to be treasured-for so few exist.

Finally, as the researcher attempts to gather enough information to go back to the old country, the devastation of the homeland after Operation Vistula is a tragedy on many levels. The destruction of domestic buildings, churches and records was on a monumental scale and we do not yet know how much of our history has been irreparably lost.

Adapted from The Pelak Chronicles:
A Family History
2001