Georges Sobolewski

Je n'ai pas connu Georges longtemps mais suffisamment pour l'aimer. Je garde une vidéo de lui alors qu'il m'offre gentiment un moment de follie. Il était attachant. Nous avions des points communs dont la navigation et la photographie. Pour ceux qui ne le savent pas, Geroges à fait la traversée de l'océan à la voile. Bon voyage dr Sobolewski, Je vous aime. Mes sincères condoléances à Taddy, André, Irène et à la famille. Claude

Que mon soutien réchauffe votre coeur

Nous vous adressons nos sincères condoléances pour le décès de monsieur Georges Sobolewski. Un souvenir qui remonte au 11 janvier 1968. Dans l'avion qui m'amenait de Montréal à Québec dans mon périple comme immigrante, j'avais appris par mon voisin de voyage qu'un excellent chimiste travaillait à l'Hôpital Saint Michel d'Archange et il s'appelait Georges Sobolewski ; c'était votre père. Tous les laboratoires, où il a travaillé, avait une excellente réputation, celui du chemin St- Louis était un des meilleurs au Québec. C'était le sceau d'excellence de Sobolewski. Nous gardons d'excellents souvenirs de votre maison à Ste-Foy ainsi que du chalet au Lac St-Joseph. Nous saluons en votre père : son intelligence, son patriotisme, son humilité et son humanisme. Nos respects à vous tous au Canada et ailleurs.

Veuillez recevoir nos plus profondes condoléances pour le décès de Monsieur Georges Sobolewski. Plusieurs d’entre nous, gardons un souvenir impérissable de vos parents, de votre maison accueillante où l’on pouvait recevoir de bons conseils donnés avec bonté et bienveillance. Merci pour tout Monsieur Sobolewski.

Mes plus sincères sympathies Irène, ainsi qu'à toute ta famille. Que la paix et la sérénité vous accompagnent tous en ces moments difficiles.

Mes sincères condoléances à toi et toute ta familles

Que mon soutien réchauffe votre coeur

Veuillez accepter nos sincères condoléances pour le décès de M. G. Sobolewski. Nous gardons très bons souvenir de lui, un homme très intelligent avec les grandes connaissances, le sens d’humour et le goût de vivre. Qu’il repose en paix

Veuillez accepter nos sincères condoléances pour le décès de Georges. Nos pensées sont avec Vous.

Que mon soutien réchauffe votre coeur

Irenka, Tadeusz i Andrzeju! Au nom de la famille Bisping, je vous transmets nos plus condoléances les plus senties pour la perte de ce grand homme que fut votre père. Nos familles ayant connu des destins croisés, vous faites partie du village mental polonais de notre jeunesse. Salutations chaleureuses, Gabrielle (94 ans), Thérèse, Jean, Michel et Alex

Mes sympathies ma tres cher Irene, j’ai beaucoup aimer ton papa , en prendre soin et jaser avec le peu de polonais que je connaissait,, ils est bien ou il est maintenant,,

Chère Irène, je te présente mes plus douces pensées en cette circonstance. Je salue ton dévouement incessant à accompagner ton père, à lui procurer le meilleur bien-être dans les moments pas toujours faciles. Mes amitiés, xx

Due to the distance, I will not be able to travel and spend time with family to honour one of the greatest men I have ever met. I would though like to speak about some of the journey we shared together. Georges and Andre walked into my life when I was in my late teens. I remember the first time my mother brought him home. As most teens I judged by appearance rather than by heart or spirit. Georges looked like a mad professor to me with his shorter stature, glasses, and his hair flying in all directions. Little was I to know how much I would come to love this remarkable human being. He was so gentle and had amazing wisdom. When Georges and Andre joined us, I can say that for the first time in my life we became a family. Do not get me wrong, it had painful moments and there was lots of tension. The blending of two families is never easy as roles shift and expectations change. I remember a moment when my mother was so angry that she slammed all the cupboard doors in the kitchen and then grabbed the VW van keys and sped out the driveway. She cut the corner so tight that wheels were off the ground. Georges turned to me and asked, “Do you think your mother is angry?” Once we settled in though there were evening bridge games and deep discussions. We were not always the easiest teens and when my mother and Georges would take some time to themselves havoc ruled. We tried to clean up before they came home but over time, they noticed the spaghetti sauce on the ceiling in the dining room and the huge pot of Begos gone (We invited our friends over for a meal). This food was supposed to last the whole weekend and did not last one meal. At one point while having a water fight the basement sink was sheared off the wall from Russ trying to sneak in the bathroom basement window and the kitchen flooded from someone spraying water into the window (I was spraying outside the window with the handheld sprayer at the kitchen sink). I eventually climbed onto the roof of the house and water bomb them as they came out the door. Georges and my mother took it all in stride. My mother and Georges would hear me complain about how Andre and Russ would also hang my running shoes up the telephone pole. I am not sure how they kept their cool and did not burst out laughing. We always had great adventures as a family. I still hang the picture of Russ, Andre and I fishing in northern Quebec. We were leaping over the rocks in our attempts to untangle our lines while fishing for trout. We could drink straight from the lake then and our indigenous guides would show us a different world than the one we knew in Toronto. I learned about mixing fat with citrus for bug protection, the miracle of pork and fat on bread and that white fish were not worthy of keeping only trout. Georges’ friend Rene offered us the opportunity to visit a fishing camp north of Montreal. It was a lovely location with many stories shared. There was only one cabin on the lake, and they ended up keeping the refrigerator outside because the bears were notorious for breaking into the cabin. There were only so many beds, so I got to sleep on a platform next to the screen window. In the night thought I could hear a huffing sound that was next to my head. I came to realize that there was a bear smelling for food right next to me and that there was only a screen between us. I loudly whispered for Rene and although it took some time (seemed like a lifetime) he woke up and grabbed his gun under his bed. The door slammed and out he ran after the bear into the night. Undenounced to me, this would later prepare me for living at Devil’s Hollow outside Wetherford, Texas. There were days while living in Toronto after a heavy rain Georges and I would look at each other and nod. We would take the sailboat rubber raft to our local creek and ride the high water. My mother would meet us a distance down the broiling creek so we would have a ride home. It was so exciting to get wrapped up in the whirls of the water and periodically hit a tree that had fallen at the side of the water. Georges would smile as I shouted out “Yeeha” when the ride became rough. It was in those moments that he could really see me as I was meant to be (not the serious young woman who took on too much responsibility as a child). There was also a point where Georges and my mother agreed to assist someone in moving their sailing boat from Toronto to the east coast. I was able to travel with them for part of this adventure. Georges taught me how to steer and navigate. We were traveling by motor and taking turns steering while my mother and Georges slept. The diesel engine malfunctioned as we travelled through the St. Lawerence, and I experienced the nausea of steering while inhaling the fumes. Even thinking about it now makes my stomach turn and I can taste it in my mouth. It was on that journey that we harboured in Montreal. It had been raining hard and Georges felt that it would be nice to have a meal at a restaurant at the Harbour. We walked into an exceptionally fine establishment wearing our rubber boots, heavy raincoats, and hats. The host could be seen visibly looking at us with heavy judgement. He asked whether we had reservations, and it was evident he would turn us away easily. Georges introduced himself as Dr. Georges Sobolewski and there was a shift in the man’s disposition. He smiled and welcomed Dr. Sobolewski and party. He asked whether Georges had a tie as it was an expectation of the establishment and when it was indicated that he did not he provided him with one. We had an amazing meal that night with lobster and vast amounts of butter. We all grinned at the host’s reaction, and I recognized at that point in my journey the power of perception and status. In my earlier years I would travel often to visit Georges and my mother in Quebec. We would go for walks in the woods in a quest for Boletus and Chantrelle mushrooms. Even to this day while camping I wander in the search of these delicacies. I have always been a silent wanderer but with Georges in my life I gained an even deeper curiosity. This was but one of many gifts he offered me in my journey. Georges was very compassionate with my mother. If he struggled with other’s choices it never reflected in how he treated them. He was warm and welcoming and very protective of the people he loved. That is not to say that he would not debate and challenged other’s perceptions. I still can hear him question me when I would make a statement that generalized. Do not get me wrong as a teen there were times when that was exceptionally frustrating but as time passed and I became a psychotherapist I carry that with me. Each time I approach it with one of my clients I thank Georges for his wisdom. Georges would from time to time share briefly about his time in a prisoner of war camp and being part of the Polish Resistance. He spoke about being in a building in Warsaw and searching through the hallways. He noted that he came around a corner with his gun in hand and a German soldier did the same from the opposite side. They both held their guns and looked at each other in the eyes. He explained that it was a long and difficult pause. It was at one point they both backed up around the corner and left. Shots were never fired. I have held this story in my heart as it represents to me the hope for humanity. Georges would tell of his life as a young boy. He explained that he grew up surrounded by women because the men were off fighting. It was at 17 he joined the resistance and, in his wisdom, sewed sergeant stripes on his jacket in case the German soldiers captured him they would have to classify him as a POW. He explained that near the end of the war he was in Switzerland on a work crew. The German soldier in charge of the crew recognized that the war was ending, and that the likelihood was that Germany would lose. He told Georges and his work companion that he was going to turn his back and if they wandered away, he would not be able to find them even if he did search. They left that mountain and travelled to France. Georges indicated that obtaining an education in Poland was difficult and had to be done in secret. They would visit homes and participate but there were no schools. When he arrived in France, he decided that he would go to university. He did not speak French so had to not only attend classes but learn a new language at the same time. He noted that the pressure was so intense that there were times when he and his fellow students would use cocaine to stay awake. I remember there were times when I too was struggling in my second year of university. Georges wisdom prevailed again as he explained that when ever I was taking and exam or participating in lectures that I needed to sit by the most intelligent person (and not by someone who was overly social). My relationship with Georges was so close that there were times that it threatened my mother. We (Georges and I) would talk and debate for hours. He loved that I decided to take psychology as the nature on man was of deep interest to him. Even as his mind started to fail him, he would continue to read. I remember the day that he expressed his fear that he was losing his memories. I reminded him that even when he lost half of them, he would still be one of the greatest minds I have ever known. I recognize that my choices and journey have not always made Georges’ life easy. There were extended times when I was estranged from my family. I am certain this was painful for all of us and yet they were necessary for me to find my own path. Georges was so loving for my mother who never felt that she could be loveable or wanted. She would tell me in the last few years of her life how much she loved Georges. These are powerful words from a woman who grew up with a horrific and self focused father. Georges was a blessing for me. I was able to take his wisdom and see the world in a completely unique way. He was the blueprint for love and acceptance that I have been able to move forward into my own children. Georges will live on in all of us who have known him. But it goes even beyond that for me. He is part of every encounter I have with one of my clients. I often will intertwine his stories, values, and perceptions of hope in sessions. His mindfulness, compassion, understanding between perceptions and facts, awe about the world we live in, and sense of adventure will continue on in me, my children and everyone I meet in my own journey.

Due to the distance, I will not be able to travel and spend time with family to honour one of the greatest men I have ever met. I would though like to speak about some of the journey we shared together. Georges and Andre walked into my life when I was in my late teens. I remember the first time my mother brought him home. As most teens I judged by appearance rather than by heart or spirit. Georges looked like a mad professor to me with his shorter stature, glasses, and his hair flying in all directions. Little was I to know how much I would come to love this remarkable human being. He was so gentle and had amazing wisdom. When Georges and Andre joined us, I can say that for the first time in my life we became a family. Do not get me wrong, it had painful moments and there was lots of tension. The blending of two families is never easy as roles shift and expectations change. I remember a moment when my mother was so angry that she slammed all the cupboard doors in the kitchen and then grabbed the VW van keys and sped out the driveway. She cut the corner so tight that wheels were off the ground. Georges turned to me and asked, “Do you think your mother is angry?” Once we settled in though there were evening bridge games and deep discussions. We were not always the easiest teens and when my mother and Georges would take some time to themselves havoc ruled. We tried to clean up before they came home but over time, they noticed the spaghetti sauce on the ceiling in the dining room and the huge pot of Begos gone (We invited our friends over for a meal). This food was supposed to last the whole weekend and did not last one meal. At one point while having a water fight the basement sink was sheared off the wall from Russ trying to sneak in the bathroom basement window and the kitchen flooded from someone spraying water into the window (I was spraying outside the window with the handheld sprayer at the kitchen sink). I eventually climbed onto the roof of the house and water bomb them as they came out the door. Georges and my mother took it all in stride. My mother and Georges would hear me complain about how Andre and Russ would also hang my running shoes up the telephone pole. I am not sure how they kept their cool and did not burst out laughing. We always had great adventures as a family. I still hang the picture of Russ, Andre and I fishing in northern Quebec. We were leaping over the rocks in our attempts to untangle our lines while fishing for trout. We could drink straight from the lake then and our indigenous guides would show us a different world than the one we knew in Toronto. I learned about mixing fat with citrus for bug protection, the miracle of pork and fat on bread and that white fish were not worthy of keeping only trout. Georges’ friend Rene offered us the opportunity to visit a fishing camp north of Montreal. It was a lovely location with many stories shared. There was only one cabin on the lake, and they ended up keeping the refrigerator outside because the bears were notorious for breaking into the cabin. There were only so many beds, so I got to sleep on a platform next to the screen window. In the night thought I could hear a huffing sound that was next to my head. I came to realize that there was a bear smelling for food right next to me and that there was only a screen between us. I loudly whispered for Rene and although it took some time (seemed like a lifetime) he woke up and grabbed his gun under his bed. The door slammed and out he ran after the bear into the night. Undenounced to me, this would later prepare me for living at Devil’s Hollow outside Wetherford, Texas. There were days while living in Toronto after a heavy rain Georges and I would look at each other and nod. We would take the sailboat rubber raft to our local creek and ride the high water. My mother would meet us a distance down the broiling creek so we would have a ride home. It was so exciting to get wrapped up in the whirls of the water and periodically hit a tree that had fallen at the side of the water. Georges would smile as I shouted out “Yeeha” when the ride became rough. It was in those moments that he could really see me as I was meant to be (not the serious young woman who took on too much responsibility as a child). There was also a point where Georges and my mother agreed to assist someone in moving their sailing boat from Toronto to the east coast. I was able to travel with them for part of this adventure. Georges taught me how to steer and navigate. We were traveling by motor and taking turns steering while my mother and Georges slept. The diesel engine malfunctioned as we travelled through the St. Lawerence, and I experienced the nausea of steering while inhaling the fumes. Even thinking about it now makes my stomach turn and I can taste it in my mouth. It was on that journey that we harboured in Montreal. It had been raining hard and Georges felt that it would be nice to have a meal at a restaurant at the Harbour. We walked into an exceptionally fine establishment wearing our rubber boots, heavy raincoats, and hats. The host could be seen visibly looking at us with heavy judgement. He asked whether we had reservations, and it was evident he would turn us away easily. Georges introduced himself as Dr. Georges Sobolewski and there was a shift in the man’s disposition. He smiled and welcomed Dr. Sobolewski and party. He asked whether Georges had a tie as it was an expectation of the establishment and when it was indicated that he did not he provided him with one. We had an amazing meal that night with lobster and vast amounts of butter. We all grinned at the host’s reaction, and I recognized at that point in my journey the power of perception and status. In my earlier years I would travel often to visit Georges and my mother in Quebec. We would go for walks in the woods in a quest for Boletus and Chantrelle mushrooms. Even to this day while camping I wander in the search of these delicacies. I have always been a silent wanderer but with Georges in my life I gained an even deeper curiosity. This was but one of many gifts he offered me in my journey. Georges was very compassionate with my mother. If he struggled with other’s choices it never reflected in how he treated them. He was warm and welcoming and very protective of the people he loved. That is not to say that he would not debate and challenged other’s perceptions. I still can hear him question me when I would make a statement that generalized. Do not get me wrong as a teen there were times when that was exceptionally frustrating but as time passed and I became a psychotherapist I carry that with me. Each time I approach it with one of my clients I thank Georges for his wisdom. Georges would from time to time share briefly about his time in a prisoner of war camp and being part of the Polish Resistance. He spoke about being in a building in Warsaw and searching through the hallways. He noted that he came around a corner with his gun in hand and a German soldier did the same from the opposite side. They both held their guns and looked at each other in the eyes. He explained that it was a long and difficult pause. It was at one point they both backed up around the corner and left. Shots were never fired. I have held this story in my heart as it represents to me the hope for humanity. Georges would tell of his life as a young boy. He explained that he grew up surrounded by women because the men were off fighting. It was at 17 he joined the resistance and, in his wisdom, sewed sergeant stripes on his jacket in case the German soldiers captured him they would have to classify him as a POW. He explained that near the end of the war he was in Switzerland on a work crew. The German soldier in charge of the crew recognized that the war was ending, and that the likelihood was that Germany would lose. He told Georges and his work companion that he was going to turn his back and if they wandered away, he would not be able to find them even if he did search. They left that mountain and travelled to France. Georges indicated that obtaining an education in Poland was difficult and had to be done in secret. They would visit homes and participate but there were no schools. When he arrived in France, he decided that he would go to university. He did not speak French so had to not only attend classes but learn a new language at the same time. He noted that the pressure was so intense that there were times when he and his fellow students would use cocaine to stay awake. I remember there were times when I too was struggling in my second year of university. Georges wisdom prevailed again as he explained that when ever I was taking and exam or participating in lectures that I needed to sit by the most intelligent person (and not by someone who was overly social). My relationship with Georges was so close that there were times that it threatened my mother. We (Georges and I) would talk and debate for hours. He loved that I decided to take psychology as the nature on man was of deep interest to him. Even as his mind started to fail him, he would continue to read. I remember the day that he expressed his fear that he was losing his memories. I reminded him that even when he lost half of them, he would still be one of the greatest minds I have ever known. I recognize that my choices and journey have not always made Georges’ life easy. There were extended times when I was estranged from my family. I am certain this was painful for all of us and yet they were necessary for me to find my own path. Georges was so loving for my mother who never felt that she could be loveable or wanted. She would tell me in the last few years of her life how much she loved Georges. These are powerful words from a woman who grew up with a horrific and self focused father. Georges was a blessing for me. I was able to take his wisdom and see the world in a completely unique way. He was the blueprint for love and acceptance that I have been able to move forward into my own children. Georges will live on in all of us who have known him. But it goes even beyond that for me. He is part of every encounter I have with one of my clients. I often will intertwine his stories, values, and perceptions of hope in sessions. His mindfulness, compassion, understanding between perceptions and facts, awe about the world we live in, and sense of adventure will continue on in me, my children and everyone I meet in my own journey.

Ma douce Irène, Je t’offre mes sincères condoléances . Que l’amour et la paix t’accompagnent pour t’aider à traverser cette épreuve. Amitiés.

Mes pensées les plus positives vous accompagnent. J'ai eu le privilège de rencontrer votre père à la Résidence Le Campanile et d'écrire sa biographie. Son dynamisme, son sourire et son humour ne seront jamais oubliés. Au nom de la Société d'histoire militaire mauricienne et en mon nom personnel, nous offrons nos condoléances sincères aux membres de votre famille. Bon courage.