Birthday Wish

I spoke with my niece today, whose birthday is coming up in March. "What do you want for your birthday?" I asked. In typical teenager's fashion she started "I don't really know" song but then her voice came alive with excitment, "I know, I know. I want Ted's chocolate cake." Such a sweet birthday wish for a person who will turn 15.

The wish has its history. Back when my niece was barely two years old and we all lived in Moscow, my husband introduced us to his chocolate cake. I think it wasn't even the taste of the cake that made it so special for my family but the fact that the man took time, prepared it and brought it to my mom's house. Since then the cake made its appearance every time my family visited us in our travels. By now everybody is aware that it is made from Betty Crocker's mix but it is still known as Ted's chocolate cake.

Memories

My first memories of Thanksgiving connect with Moscow. I was perhaps five years old and all our family, three generation of it, was gathered around the table. At the time I did not know that it was Thanksgiving we celebrated, I only knew that we ate a very strange bird that I had never tried before.

Only years later I discovered that my family has not such an ordinary history. My great-grandparents left Russia for America in 1912, where later, in 1914, my grandfather was born. He turned 16 when his family decided to go back to Russia. Gosh, it was 1930; how I wish to know what was behind this decision. But the decision was made, and he studied in the Moscow University as a foreign student, became a doctor and at some point his foreign background landed him in a labour camp. Learning all this made me finally understand why my grandfather was so happy to have a turkey once a year; why he could not distinguished some sounds of the Russian alphabet or why my mother, the youngest of three kids, had a different surname.

By the time I was ready to ask questions my grandfather and my grandmother were gone, and it appeared that some topics were avoided in our family, so unfortunately my mom, her brother and sister could not add much to the picture.

I sifted through the old photos, which gave me some clues; found old postcards. These postcards revealed the increasing desperation of my grandfather’s parents, while they were living overseas. “Mama, Daddy, why don’t you write? Are you ok?” were repeated time after time – and there was not even one postcard which would indicate that the answer ever came in. Considering the turmoil shaking Russia at that time, it wasn’t surprising, but I can easily imagine the anxiety of a person waiting for an answer.

In a philosophical sense I am completing the cycle by returning to the place from which my grandfather left at 16. It is just a pity that people who could tell the whole story - add the missing pieces - are not here anymore.

Well, not everything is so tragic in my family. My grandmother on my father’s side, who is still alive and active, was married 5 times and outlived all her husbands. Actually this was the reason she refused to get married last time at the age of 77. “I don’t want him to die on me”, she said. Ironically, the poor chap died in less than a year anyway. Her first husband, my father’s dad, died in his early thirties. He broke his neck climbing out of his lover’s window at dawn. My father took this lesson to heart and simplified his life by moving in and out of marriages. Considering that Ted’s dad was also on a constant search for perfection and the track records of our siblings, we with our 11th anniversary approaching fast can be considered an odd couple.

And that is where my thanks will go today – to our imperfect families; to those who are here, and to those who are gone; to our friends - to all of those who help us to create our memories.

A Blast From The Past

Oh my god! Today in the morning my friend sent me a threatening letter, stating that if I wouldn’t register for the site which connects former school mates, college mates, etc, she would not speak with me again. So, I figure out I’ll give it a try. I logged in, registered and typed my former school number. While waiting for a site to upload I was thinking that most likely I would not find anybody, after all the school probably doesn’t exist anymore. But the photos and names started to pop up on the screen, and I catch my breath – here they were - people with whom I have spent 10 years at school and later completely lost touch with. Amazingly, despite changes brought by age, in most cases you still can recognize boys and girls that you once knew – most often the eyes or smile remain the same as many years ago. What was eerie though – the kids – a few of the kids were splitting image of the parents, you can easily mix them without looking at the dates.
Wow, what a blast from the past!

Unpacking memories

That is how our house looks for the past few days after arrival of all our stuff – boxes, boxes are everywhere, complete chaos. The first post meant to be up last week but the arrival of our goodies made any activities except cutting open the boxes, unpacking and finding places for things utterly impossible. The kids are overjoyed with having their toys back, I am ecstatic with having my books, and Ted is happy with arrival of his computer.

When unpacking slows down a bit and I am able to stop and really look at things emerging from the boxes, it becomes emotional journey. Each small object represents a small segment of my life, has ties with people, friends who scattered all over the world. Here are the white plates that Claudia and Don helped me to choose at Flower market in Beijing, a bright fire-red vase that was picked by Izumi; colourful postcards, which Jennifer sent from KL , books, which travel with me from country to country. It feels like a veil of sadness and sweet memories is wrapped around me. It is my fourth major move and it doesn’t get easier to part with people. But by now I think I learn to accept this constant cycle of coming and going, meeting and saying good-byes; I just feel grateful that for a brief time we touched each others lives. Thank you, guys.