Family tree hunch proves to be correct
We live in different countries. We speak different languages. Yet it turns out we are connected, in more ways than one.
Mihael Podnar was searching online for members of his family tree when he stumbled onto a column of mine from last year.
“According to this photo, I think we are related,” he wrote to me via Facebook.
Podnar, 20, lives with his father, mother, younger brother and grandmother in Bilaj, a small village near the town of Gospic in Croatia. He studies history at a school in Zagreb while also managing the official website for his village, where my great-grandmother was born.
“I found your column by coincidence,” Podnar wrote. “I saw that photo and it was so familiar to me, especially because of the big mustache of Joseph Davich.”
Josip (Joseph) Devcic was born in Gospic, Croatia, in 1882. Filka Butkovich was born in Bilaj, Croatia, in 1885. After marrying in 1906 in Yugoslavia and emigrating to this country, they started a family in Hibbing, Minnesota, where their last name became Davich. My father’s name was Joseph Davich in his honor.
“I asked my grandma about a person named Filka Butkovich from Bilaj, where we live, and she remembered some things,” Podnar wrote.
He rattled off a list of names from our family tree — Nikola Butkovic, Manda Busija, Ivan Busija, Marija Butkovic, among others — and how both of us are related to them.
“Pretty tangled family relations, don’t you think?” Podnar joked.
Every family tree has tangled roots, I replied.
I wrote in that July 2019 column, “I never cared much about my family’s genealogy — and how exactly I got here — until I recently heard from a distant cousin who put together our family history, complete with dozens of old photos.”
Because of this new interest, I welcomed Podnar’s messages from half a world away. We corresponded more than two dozen times, sharing old photos and new viewpoints about our countries.
“I am a great patriot and I love my country,” Podnar said.
He’s also critical of Croatia, similar to how tens of millions of Americans feel about our
country.
“I’d like to become a high school history teacher one day in my town, or in Zagreb. But I doubt it because unfortunately it’s difficult to get a job here in Croatia if you aren’t a member of our big corrupt party HDZ. It’s worse than in the time of communism because politicians are very corrupt and evil,” Podnar said.
He’s watched hundreds of thousands of young Croatians his age move to other countries, such as Germany and Ireland.
“Croatia could have become a rich and prosperous country if those corrupt politicians weren’t around,” he said. “I am very sad for my country sometimes, but I hope that young people like me unite and bring back the lost dignity of Croatia.”
Podnar is considering a run for public office to change the political system from within.
“I would love to become a simple history teacher, but because of my country’s situation someone has to take responsibility and make it a better place for all Croatian citizens,” he said. “It is the only thing with which we can change Croatian society and economy.”
We live in different countries. We speak different languages. We are different generations. Yet we’re connected, not only through a deeprooted family tree but also through deep-rooted political turmoil within our governments.
“I always wanted to visit the United States, but unfortunately I don’t have enough money to travel anywhere outside Europe,” Podnar said. “Even traveling outside Croatia’s borders represents a big financial challenge to my family. But maybe when I finish college.”
He invited me to visit Croatia, a common gesture by my relatives from our homeland.
“You can stay with us so you don’t have to pay for hotels,” said Podnar, who enjoys making flags and drawing maps in historical context.
I offered the same invitation to him if he ever visits the U.S.
Podnar said many of our relatives stay in touch via social media sites, from Croatia, Canada, France and America. My aunt, Phyllis Mazeika, of Chesterton, does the same thing with relatives in Yugoslavia.
“They want us to visit there,” she told me Friday as I wrote this column.
Podnar’s father teases him for knowing more about our family’s history than most older relatives. “He says I’ve become like an old granny who knows everything about everyone,” Podnar joked. “But knowing my genealogy is part of my profession.” During one of our online chats in late August, Podnar mentioned that his village was celebrating the day when residents successfully defended themselves from Serbian rebels. I don’t know the complex history between Croatians and Serbians. I do know that when I was a boy, I was often asked if I was Croatian or Serbian. I always answered with cautious leeriness so I didn’t anger my elders.
Such ethnic differences no longer matter to me. I’m just another Davich from Gary.
“Filka’s brother, Joso Butkovic, also lived in Gary,” Podnar told me. “Joso, Tome, and Marija, all of them emigrated from Croatia to live in the U.S.”
“Manda was married to Tome Busija, who worked as a miner with several other emigrated Croats. Manda cooked for those workers and washed their clothes. They returned to Croatia with the money they earned in America, bought some land, built a house and opened a market. They were the wealthiest family in the village.”
I wasn’t familiar with all the relatives’ names that Podnar mentioned. Although I was very familiar with the Croatian nickname for aunt, “Teta” (pronounced tett-ah). I’ve used it since childhood for my aunts on my father’s side, as well as “Tete” (tett-tee) for my aunt in Chesterton. I’ve never once called her Phyllis.
When my 2-year-old grandson, Landon, first learned my fiancé’s name, Karen, it came out “Teta.” We have no idea why or how, but he will likely call her this nickname throughout his life, just as I have done.
Josip Devcic and Filka Butkovich would be so proud.