Family and culture bind Islanders to Ukraine: Pride in heritage as war rages

It’s about 4,600 miles as the crow flies from Shelter Island to Kyiv, Ukraine, but for Islanders of Ukrainian heritage, and especially those with family and friends in the middle of a European war, the connection is real, close, and wrenching.

Island resident and proud Ukrainian, Natalie Sticesen said, “You can’t conquer people who have freedom in their blood.”

Ms. Sticesen, who is “100% Ukrainian on both sides,” was looking for someone to build a house on her Osprey Lane property a few years back when she met Brett Poleshuk. When they met, she said she thought she was looking at her Ukrainian grandfather, a man of few words, with electric blue eyes.

“I later learned that Brett’s relatives came from a region near the Carpathian Mountains, an area known for people with skill in woodworking,” she said. “Now I have a home in the United States built by a Ukrainian.”

Brett Poleshuk’s grandparents came to the United States from Ukraine around 1915, and his grandmother lived with the family after Brett’s grandfather passed away. Brett and his twin sister Betsy were so close to their grandmother that they spoke Ukrainian when they started school, and had to take lessons to rid themselves of an accent that was considered undesirable in the Cold War years of the 1960s.

Betsy lives in Riverhead now, and Brett is a building inspector for the Town of Shelter Island.

Ms. Sticesen grew up in a Ukrainian community in Connecticut, immersed in Ukrainian culture. She speaks, reads and writes Ukrainian, which was her first language.

Her great grandmother Anastasia had been a 32-year-old mother of three when she starved to death during Holodomor, a famine caused by the Soviet state that resulted in millions of Ukrainian deaths. “Some of my family left in the 1930’s because of Holodomor,” Ms. Sticesen said. “My grandfather was a small boy and made his way out. Our family history is tied up in Holodomor. This is a repeat of that. They are trying to exterminate and get rid of us, and impose what they want.”

Engaged to a Polish man, her fiancé proposed to her two years ago in the courtyard of the St. George’s Cathedral in Lviv.

When Ms. Sticesen met Julia Weisenberg on Shelter Island, Julia’s maiden name, Romanchuk, immediately identified her to Ms. Sticesen as a fellow Ukrainian. Ms. Weisenberg’s father, Bill Romanchuk, ran for office on Shelter Island in the 1980s, and later led a group of local activists who lobbied successfully for decommission of the Shoreham nuclear plant.

Like Ms. Sticesen, Ms. Weisenberg grew up with Ukrainian culture front and center, and they may even be related through Ms. Weisenberg’s paternal grandmother. Ms. Weisenberg had the traditional Ukrainian costume and enjoyed attending dance performances in Riverhead and Connecticut.

Ms. Sticesen’s step-sister and close friend are among the millions of refugees trying to leave Ukraine. Her friend Natalya had to leave her husband and son behind to fight, in order to flee with their teenage daughter to Romania. Ms. Sticesen is also in touch with friends in Russia, none of whom support the war.

But most of her friends are highly educated, and they also tell her that plenty of Russians believe their military is in Ukraine to liberate the people of the Donbas region. 

“The people of Shelter Island have no doubt about the terrible nature of the war,” Ms. Sticesen said. “Everyone has asked, ‘What can we do? How can we help? Where can we donate?’” she said. “The people of Shelter Island are so kind and caring.”

Ms. Sticesen said the first line of the Ukraine National Anthem is the best possible statement of the country’s resilience and determination. In English, it goes like this: “Ukraine is not dead, nor its glory and freedom.”

Here are organizations providing aid to Ukraine that Ms. Sticesen recommends:

Razom, https://razomforukraine.org

Ukrainian National Womens League of America, unwla.org