Wasyl Palijczuk moved on to the ultimate peace one month ago today (July 10, 1934 - May 1, 2025). And when I first learned of his passing, he had been in my dreams the night before.

He was one of my art teachers at Western Maryland College, where I attended from 1995-1999 and majored in art/art history.

He was always at the ready to assist anyway he could and took interest in his students beyond just showing how to draw and such. I remember he came across a variant of my surname in a newspaper and pulled me aside to discuss it. It was more than just because it was Eastern European like his. And there was one time that a handful of us students got to go to a Ukrainian restaurant with him. He wanted to share part of his culture in addition to his knowledge and wisdom and work: after all, art is life and culture.

There are two kinds of heroes, as I see it. There are the historical/societal ones, and then there are the personal/individualized ones. While Wasyl was definitely the latter, his art and life experiences could make him fit the former as well.

At his life celebration on May 22, everyone was given the opportunity to speak about him, but I could not form my thoughts and memories together at the time to have gone up to speak. When I found this contest, I felt it was kismet. It gave me the opportunity to express what I could not before say.

I wrote this poem, "The Ukrainian," in one sitting in about 25 minutes, only changing certain word usage without taking from its pure flow. Ironically, I did not draw an image to accompany it.