Zbigniew Lemieszek, 65.
Born in Poland. Zbigniew Lemieszek, American.
Zbigniew goes by Ziggy. As you can tell from his photo, the nickname fits. Everyone says the exact same thing after they meet him.
“He is just so cool.”
Ziggy’s laugh pops against the walls when I tell him this. Humble when I explain that he and his notorious beard have a running fan club. He insists, “I’m just a guy from Poland.”
That could not be further from the truth. Because in the nearly two hours that I spent with Ziggy, I was brought through the full cycle of emotions. He brought me to tears speaking about the simple beauty of a snowflake in Wyoming, and in the same conversation he had me bursting in laughter from the stories of his youth. Ziggy is so much more than “just a guy from Poland.”
Ziggy is a truck driver. He has cool glasses. Rides a motorcycle. And wears suspenders in a way that millennials only wish they could. He loves his wife. He loves his wife in a way where he simply can’t help but talk about her. Ziggy has a massive beard, which he only grew out so that people would stop mistaking him for the Dos Equis man. Ziggy is artistic and resilient and kind. Ziggy is an incredible storyteller. So much so that I struggle to record it for you in a way that does him and his storytelling justice.
But we can certainly try.
“I grew up in a small town in Poland right on the Baltic Sea. In a town called Kolobrzeg. K-O-L-O-B-R-Z-E-G. There is very little that is there.”
Foolishly, I had to ask him to clarify where Poland was, but he was more than happy to draw it out and indicate to me where he grew up. Poland is the doorway between western and eastern Europe. The Baltic Sea and Scandinavian countries to the North, Germany to the West, and all of Russia’s former lands to the East. Just in the last 100 years Poland has been right in the center of major international strife, which Ziggy is keenly aware of. “I mean, yeah Poland has a lot of history. We have 2,000 years of history and war and politics. It’s nice but there’s nothing like this in Poland.”
I have not lived anywhere other than the East Coast of the United States. My life has been confined to the Eastern American culture, and brief trips to the West Coast and Western Europe.
As a matter of fact, Ziggy has seen more of the country than I have. Ziggy has probably seen more of the United States than most Americans have. Like I said before, Ziggy is a truck driver, and he can’t see himself doing anything else. Ziggy’s first cross country truck drive took him from Chicago to Los Angeles in the late 90s. Just over 2,000 miles, or 29 hours if you disregard traffic or the human need for sleep. This sounds like my personal hell. Even in my twenties I struggle to enjoy the journey and rather anxiously wait for the destination. I want the result immediately. The destination and the happy ending to come, but without the middle parts. I foolishly assumed that Ziggy would feel the same.
“When you look straight ahead down the road, of course the drive is boring. It is just road. But when you look around you… you see the country and the land that surrounds you… that is beauty. That is joy.”
I wish I could see the world through the eyes of a child again. Or even better through the eyes of Ziggy. To see the infinite beauty of the natural world and feel the joy of creation. The way that Ziggy speaks of this country is like that of John the Apostle speaking of heaven. The miles of golden corn dancing across his vision. Driving 400 miles up and up and up, until you suddenly see dark green lush forest. So high up and condensed that it appears like clouds have touched the earth. Driving through the trees, until suddenly the change. Slate gray. Rich browns. Burgundy. The sudden emergence of the desert lays before you. The richness of the Earth, sustaining life even without a steady supply of water.
Bright. Ancient. Beautiful.
“When I came back home, I told my wife, ‘I’m going to drive trucks for the rest of my life.’”
Ziggy knows what it is to savor the days. His favorite parts of his job are the people he meets. It’s the small parts of the country that so few people see. Even in the scary and harsh moments, Ziggy remains in awe of the beauty of the world. On a trip he took from Florida to Alaska, he tells me about a night drive. The way his body tensed, you could tell that he could still remember how bitterly cold it was, yet that wasn’t what he spoke about. He spoke about the sky. How it was so dark, and the stars twinkled along the moon, giving clear sight to the road ahead. It was cold, but the snow was falling, making it look like diamonds were raining down. The fog was thick, but when it rose, you could see the bushes, and with the snow it looked like someone had carved it out of crystal. These are direct quotes from Ziggy, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel my heart crack. Because how often do we Americans, who have the absurd luxury of living in this country, forget that our home is the backdrop for such beauty.
“I need to express what is growing inside. When you see so much, it needs to be expressed.”
Ziggy was just recently able to become a United States citizen. The immigration process was so much longer, and more difficult than he expected. But now that it is over, he says he’s never felt more secure. But once he received the naturalization certificate, he also received a renewed sense of stability. Ziggy was certifiably home. Certifiably American. Something that could not be taken away from him. “I feel really secure. I was walking on my toes. Now I am on my full feet.”
No more worry. No more questioning his position in this country. Ziggy holds all the rights and privileges of an American citizen. With all that he has seen and experienced, I craved any wisdom he could share. His message is simple: Go out there. See the country. Know its’ people.
Ziggy insists that there is no other country like the United States. Imploring for each of us to open our eyes and our ears to the people around us. Our home is special, in that this is not a country of one people, but rather an ornate tapestry of the world coming together. Ziggy says that the best part of this country is how anyone can find their place in the United States, this is a home for everyone. Everyone has a piece of the world that they have brought with them. Everyone has a home in America. On his street in Cape Coral, there are people from all over the country, and all over the world. Neighbors say hi to each other. Invite each other in. When Ziggy is in the garage fixing up his bike, people stop to chat and begin to help. One of his favorite memories is when he and his wife were invited to a neighbor’s child’s graduation party, “It was the first time I felt I was an American.”
I hope you can meet Ziggy one day, because even if you sit with him for a second, his joy is so infectious that you will be changed for the better. This country is so big and the future is so unknown. If each of us can adopt Ziggy’s mindset, looking at our surroundings instead of merely the small point at the end of the road, how much more joy will we experience? How much more present could we be? I would argue that Ziggy is not just a guy from Poland like he insists he is. He is a husband. A father. An artist. A hard worker. An incredible storyteller. A great American.