This is a story about my grandmother, a Polish immigrant, and her extraordinary love of wrestling, particularly Hulk Hogan. It’s a story about a bond forged in the living room on Saturday mornings, watching WWF (now WWE) wrestling together. It’s a story about a woman who found solace, pride, and patriotism in the world of professional wrestling.

My grandmother and I didn’t just share a love of wrestling; we shared a hero. Her round face lit up when Hulk Hogan appeared in bright yellow wrestling shorts that matched his stringy blond hair and mustache. His bulging, well-oiled biceps on full display, he swaggered into the ring to the lyrics of “Real American” blaring over the crowd noise: “I am a real American. Fight for the rights of every man.” She would use her thick calves and callused feet to scoot forward in her chair, eager for another Hulk Hogan victory.

But our love of wrestling wasn’t just about the wrestling itself; it was about the emotions it evoked. It was about the excitement of cheering for the good guy, the thrill of watching a villain get what was coming to him, and the sense of community that came with being part of a larger group. My grandmother and I would watch wrestling together, screaming at the top of our lungs when our hero emerged victorious.

Years later, when my boys were old enough to understand, I told them about my grandmother’s love of wrestling. I told them about how she would watch Hulk Hogan body slam Andre the Giant during WrestleMania III, and how she would cheer for the Polish-American wrestlers Killer Kowalski and Ivan Putski. I shared with them the stories of her journey from Poland to Austria, then Germany, where she gave birth to my father in a camp for displaced persons after World War II.

But what struck me most was how my grandmother saw Hulk Hogan as more than just a wrestler. She saw him as a symbol of American values, of freedom and safety. She cheered for him not just because he was the good guy, but because he represented a sense of patriotism and pride that she had never known before. In a way, Hulk Hogan became a bridge between her old life in Poland and her new life in America.

When I learned of Hulk Hogan’s death, I didn’t want to think about his complicated legacy or his support for Donald Trump. Instead, I thought of my grandmother and how she had found a sense of belonging in this country. I thought about how she had cheered for the Hulkster with her granddaughter, and how that moment had become a part of our family’s history.

As I reflect on my grandmother’s love of wrestling, I am reminded of the power of nostalgia and the importance of passing down our stories to future generations. My grandmother may be gone, but her love of wrestling lives on through me, and through the memories we shared in the living room on Saturday mornings.

Key Players in My Grandmother’s Love of Wrestling

• My grandmother: A Polish immigrant who found solace, pride, and patriotism in the world of professional wrestling.
• Hulk Hogan: A wrestling superstar who became a symbol of American values, freedom, and safety for my grandmother.
• Killer Kowalski and Ivan Putski: Polish-American wrestlers who were my grandmother’s favorites.

The Impact of Wrestling on My Family

1. We shared a love of wrestling and would watch it together on Saturday mornings.
2. We would cheer for the good guy and scream at the top of our lungs when our hero emerged victorious.
3. We learned about my grandmother’s journey from Poland to Austria, then Germany, where she gave birth to my father in a camp for displaced persons after World War II.
4. We discovered the stories of my grandmother’s love for Polish-American wrestlers and her favorite wrestling matches.

Legacy of My Grandmother’s Love of Wrestling

“I am a real American. Fight for the rights of every man.”

This quote from Hulk Hogan’s theme song captures the essence of my grandmother’s love of wrestling. She saw him as a symbol of American values, of freedom and safety. She cheered for him not just because he was the good guy, but because he represented a sense of patriotism and pride that she had never known before.

As I reflect on my grandmother’s love of wrestling, I am reminded of the power of nostalgia and the importance of passing down our stories to future generations. My grandmother may be gone, but her love of wrestling lives on through me, and through the memories we shared in the living room on Saturday mornings.

In a way, Hulk Hogan became a bridge between my grandmother’s old life in Poland and her new life in America. He gave her a sense of belonging and pride in her adopted homeland.