Dear Grandchildren

Dear Nana,
What are you doing in Ukraine? Love, Josh, Allison, Kyle, Julia, Tony, and Philip.

Dear grandchildren,
It's hard to explain why I am in Ukraine when I miss you so much and wish I could see you.

I am a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV for short) in a country that's closer to Russia than to the United States. I'm not only in another country, I'm also in a new environment. I am living in a village, Starobilsk (18,000 people), that is smaller than Sylvania, and it's rural, not suburban. For a city girl like your grandmother, it's a big change.

The Peace Corps is a cultural exchange program with other countries. It's a people-to-people program, where you share your skills, learn about other countries and get to know the people, and they get to know you and learn more about America.

When you get to know people like this, living and working together, sharing meals and good times, it's hard to be enemies. Most people in Ukraine today, and in all the former Soviet republics, have never met an American. I'm the first community development volunteer in Starobilsk. I was the first American at Camp Sosnovy. But then, how many Americans have ever met a Ukrainian?

I've always believed in what the Peace Corps does, from the time I was a graduate student and young mother in Madison, Wisconsin, in the 1960s, when president John F. Kennedy created it. Your moms were little, not even in school yet. But I remember thinking, "I'd like to do that some day."

Well, some day is here! I figured if I didn't do it it now, when I'm 69 years old going on 70, I might never get to do it. Lillian Carter, former president Jimmy Carter's mother, joined the Peace Corps when she was in her 70s. She was sent to India at a time when millions of people lived in horrible poverty. She met Mother Theresa. As hard as it was, Lillian Carter said it was the most amazing experience of her life. I believe that.

What do Peace Corps Volunteers do? There are more than 300 of us in Ukraine, working in about 100 cities and towns all over the country. Ukraine is about the size of Texas, and looks like Ohio and Michigan. It has lots of farmland with some heavy industrial and mining areas in the southeastern regions. I like the fields of sunflowers in summer. The Azov and Black seas are to the south, and mountains to the West.

We work in schools, universities, summer camps, libraries, orphanages, and organizations like the YMCA or Goodwill in America. We teach English, organize activities for disabled people, do after-school art classes with kids, work on human rights projects, do civic education, and help groups start small businesses.

I work with a group called Victoria. It helps people who have been falsely accused of crimes or arrested for crimes they didn't commit. It wants to make sure governments enforce the laws. This includes environmental laws. One project is protesting the building of a gasoline station on the Aydar river that runs through Starobilsk, a pretty river like the Maumee in Toledo. People are afraid of oil spills and pollution, like we are in the U.S. That's why a lot of people in Florida are against oil drilling in the Gulf of Mexico. That's where we swim at St. Pete Beach, Pass-a-Grille, and Fort DeSoto.

Ukrainians have another disaster in mind, Chernoble. You've probably heard of it. That's where an atomic plant exploded and sent radiation into the atmosphere, and the ground, for miles around. People are still suffering from that disaster.

I also help out at the library (Biblioteca). I started an English Club for people who want to practice English. The youngest is 12, Josh's age, and he really does great; I have teens and college students, plus adults. We would love to have some English-language books. The Library doesn't have any. It would be a great help to people learning English. How about collecting books for the Starobilsk library?

I am now working on a project to get computers for the library. Part of this project is funded by the Bill Gates foundation. The "digital divide" is huge here. Very few libraries, hospitals, or any other institutions even have computers. Less than 10% of the people in Starobilsk have internet access. I hope this project comes through.

I also tutor some teenagers who are learning English in school and want extra help. Maybe you read my blogs on Helen and Viola. This summer I did the same at Camp Sosnovy, but in a more informal way. You would have liked the kids by the way and fit right in, playing soccer or volley ball, doing skits, and dancing to loud music!

The biggest challenge for me is learning Russian. It's a hard language with a different alphabet from ours. I think I sound like a 3-year old most of the time when I try to speak Russian. More like Philip than Kyle! I'll keep studying though. I think I am understanding more, so that helps.

PCVs work all over the globe, but no matter where we are, we share the same goals: to help create a more peaceful world and to build understanding between countries.

The hardest part is missing you. I can't wait to see you in March, when we'll celebrate my birthday and Julia's and Tony's. Actually, we will celebrate ALL of our birthdays then. You'll get to help me blow out 70 candles. Take care and let me know how you are doing. Your ever-loving Nana

P.S. Maybe you'll join the Peace Corps one day, and continue a new family tradition!

Where am I? Where I am.

I've been having dreams about being lost lately. This started before Thanksgiving. Yes, I am in a new place, adjusting and adapting as I go along. But I know where I am. I am in Ukraine, in the town of Starobilsk, in eastern Lugansk Oblast, near the Russian border.

I was explaining this to my sister Andy, telling her about my dreams. Sure I get lost sometimes. I take a wrong turn, get on the wrong bus, miss cues because of the language, misread signs, misread directions, misplace things. Andy laughs. She reminds me that this is nothing new. "We all know this about you, Fran, and love you anyway!"

Well, that's comforting. So I brought myself to a new place and my old self is up to its old tricks! It's a sobering realization.

Let's stick to geography, shall we? You can see where I am by looking at these maps. I can see where I am, too.

That's what's so nice about maps. They locate you. They show the way. And they are beautiful. They contain lots of useful information in a small space. They can show everything from terrain to weather patterns to highways, roads, and streets. They give you a sense of direction and distance. They fascinate and beckon.

Ukraine is about the size of Texas. It looks a lot like Nebraska, Ohio and the midwestern states. Farmland, rich black soil, and amber waves of grain predominate. Ukraine is the famous historical "breadbasket of Europe."

It has many rivers, the largest being the Dniper, which divides the country in two, East and West. This geographic divide is also a cultural divide, for reasons going back hundreds of years. When our group of fifty was told we would be studying Russian, we knew that we would be going East for our Peace Corps site, while the Ukrainian language group would be going West.

Ukraine's southern border is washed by the Azov and the Black Sea, which connects to the Mediterranean Sea through Turkey. Crimea, an autonomous republic of Ukraine, has a large Tartar population that is returning home after being exiled by Stalin in the 1930s.

The southeastern part of Ukraine is industrialized. Heavy machinery, mining and other industries mar the landscape and pollute the environment. Towns were thrown up topsy turvey to house workers, those ugly Soviet-style apartment buildings.

Of course the worst case of environmental disaster recently was the explosion of the atomic plant at Chernobyl, up North, not far from Chernigov. Radiation spewed forth over the land for miles and miles. Radiation levels are now, supposedly, at relatively safe levels, but, sadly, the effects on children, adults and newborns are still being felt.

Ukraine's time zone is 2 hours ahead of London, 7 hours ahead of New York City (and St. Petersburg and Toledo), and 10 hours ahead of Los Angeles. When I wake at 8:00 am, it's 1:00 am in Toledo. If I could be up at 3:00 am, it's the best time to call my kids, because it's 8:00 pm there. I did that once. Woke up at 3:00 am, went outside into the garden with my cel phone (it was a starry moon-lit night), and had a great talk with Alli and Josh and their mom.

There are 5 cities with over one million people or more: Kiev, the capital and the ancient birthplace of Russia and Ukraine; Khargiv, Donetsk, Dnipropetrosk, and Odessa. Western Ukraine is more densely populated than eastern Ukraine, but its largest city, Lviv, has only 790,000 people. It's a beautiful city with a fascinating history, once controlled by Poland.

Ukraine, near the 45th parallel, has four seasons; it's pretty much the same in every part of the country, with minor variations in Crimea and the Carpathian mountains in the west. When I tell Jud the days are colder and shorter, and we haven't seen the sun for days, he says yep, same in Konotop, which is way up North. Suzanne, outside of Lviv, says winter is coming there, too. Same in Odessa, say Ilsa and Carl.

Distances afterall are not that great. It's not like the distance beween Toledo, Ohio, and Saint Petersburg, Florida, or for that matter between Tallahassee and Miami, Florida. I think it's mostly the transportation system in Ukraine that makes it feel like that. For instance, it takes me two hours to get to Lugansk by bus, and another 17 hours to get to Kiev by train. The roads are bad and there's not a reliable inter-oblast system, but if you can go by car, you can cut those times considerably. A modern highway system would do wonders to cut distances even further.

So, this is my physical environment. I do not feel lost. I have my maps. Do I know where I am? You betcha! And I can see Russia from here, too.

My Ukrainian Thanksgiving

In Natalia's pumpkin patch

I learned something else about Ukraine: it has no turkeys. Maybe that's why it doesn't have Thanksgiving.

I found this out when I considered cooking a sample Thanksgiving dinner for Luba. I say "considered" deliberately. I haven't cooked a meal since leaving the States, so this would have been a remarkable effort. Luba would have thought so, too. I think she thinks I can't cook at all.

I went to several stores looking for turkey. No luck. I went to the baazar. Pumpkins, yes. Turkeys, no. Maybe there is frozen turkey somewhere in Starobilsk but I didn't find it, and if I had I wouldn't have bought it because of frozen meat warnings (frozen, unfrozen, re-frozen, and who knows how old).

This is as far as I got with my Thanksgiving meal. Luba did better.

The night before Thanksgiving, I explained to her about our national holiday and our traditional meal. We sat in front of the computer and conversed through Google translate (my Russian still frustratingly elemental). I shared my Thanksgiving blog. I shared some recipes.

Next thing I knew, Luba went to her winter storage cellar and, with a big smile, brought out a beautiful big pumpkin. If it's not canned, I don't know what to do with it. She took charge. She was in the kitchen--command central in every Ukrainian home--peeling, gutting and cutting the pumpkin into small pieces. She coated each piece with sugar, put them on a cookie tray, and.put them in the oven to bake.

A wonderful aroma filled the house. So familiar, so comforting. About 30 minutes later, we shared delicious pumpkin treats with tea and good cheer. We did the same on Thanksgiving evening, while watching president Obama and the national turkey on television.

This was my Ukrainian Thanksgiving. It was special. A new Thanksgiving memory was born.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Happy Thanksgiving from Ukraine.

They don't have Thanksgiving here. Pokrova is the closest it comes, the fall religious and harvest holiday. It will be just another work day for me. I'll go to Victoria's, then the Biblioteca, and try to have tea with some friends.

But I will miss sharing this time with family and friends. I have wonderful memories of Thanksgivings spent in Toledo, in Tallahassee when my mom was with us, in Washington, DC with friends. I remember the turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pies, lovingly prepared, displayed like works of art on beautifully set tables. "God gave us memories so that we will have roses in December," a Scottish poet wrote.

I love this thought. I won't have a turkey dinner this year, but I will have memories, and I will give thanks. I am thankful for family and friends in the U.S. and in Ukraine. I am thankful for my loving daughters and grandchildren and great grandson Philip. I am grateful for the opportunity to serve as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Starobilsk, and for the kindness and generosity of the people here.

My daughter Michelle sent an email recently with this great message: The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes their way. A nice Thanksgiving message for all of us, wherever we are.

Our Library - Part 1

Our local public library runs on a shoestring. Over the past few years, the town has cut back the library's budget; so have the Rayon and the Oblast (region and county). Drastic cuts, over 30% and more. The economic crisis in Ukraine, compounded by the global financial meltdown, has affected every aspect of life here. Libraries throughout the country have been hit hard.

The Starobilsk library occupies a lovely historic building well-located in the center of town. Beautiful as it is, the building has not been updated in years; it is drafty, dark and, perhaps worst of all, has ancient wiring and infrastructure. It is not computerized.

The library still uses an old card catalogue. Everything is done by hand. Librarians spend most of their days writing things out on cards and pieces of paper. It's an antiquated library, the kind our mothers and grandmothers may have used, and loved.

It's hard to love these libraries now. Nor is the Starobilsk library an exception. Almost all of Ukraine's libraries are in the same fix.

The oblast-wide library in Chernigov, for example, a town the size of Rochester or Toledo or Tampa, is in the same condition. When was the last time you used a card catalogue and the old Dewey decimal systerm? When was the last time you had those cards in the little front pocket of a book stamped with the return date? Actually, when was the last time you went to the library just to take out books? Amazing really.

Some librarians have been to the U.S. and visited our libraries, which are modern centers of learning, technology, and community. I can't imagine how shocked these librarians must be at the stark contrast. They seem helpless to change their situation, moreover, and knowing the possibilities only makes it more frustruating.

This sense of helplessness and frustration, by the way, is pervasive, a common condition across the board in Ukraine. It affects every level and all aspects of private and public life. It doesn't help that the National Bank of Ukraine, which was supposed to help out other banks and aid the economic recovery, absconded with or misspent billions of dollars in one of worst financial frauds in the nation's history. The extent of the fraud is just now being uncovered.

So the libraries do not have the resources even to begin to enter the 20th century, let alone the twenty-first.

One of the first things I did when I got to Starobilsk, a complete stranger to the place, was visit the library. Iryna Andreenov, the director, is a beautiful women in her early 40s, dedicated to her work. She is almost apologetic about the state of her rayon-wide library, which is supposed to serve Starobilsk and about 30 small rural villages around it in eastern Lugansk oblast. I visited often, had tea, translated messages, and talked about an English Club, which we got off the ground in September.

Meanwhile I learned from other PCVs, and some online research, that there are projects to help Ukrainian libraries. There are Books for Peace projects for example, that donate books. The U.S. Embassy has a "Windows on America" project for Oblast-wide libraries that provides computers and video equipment along with a great a collection of English-language books.

I used these books at the Chernigov Library. My PCV friend Barbara Weiser and I actually did the first literature discussion programs at the library based on the books. They are a treasure.

The Windows on America project is also a huge help with the English Club there, run by my PCV friend John Guy Laplante, at 80 years old the oldest volunteer in Ukraine. John is about to end his 27-months service and go back home to Connecticut, which might leave me as the oldest volunteer here! Before he leaves I'm hoping he can help me convince the Embassy at least to give the Starobilsk library that set of books. It would be of great use here, and helpful for our English club.

The most recent project, called Bibliomist, is supported by a $25 million gift from the Bill and Melinda Gates foundation to computerize 1,000 Ukrainian libraries. The project is being coordinated by IREX, an international nonprofit organization, and the relatively new Ukrainian Library Association. All nonprofits are relatively new in Ukraine, organized only since independence from the former Soviet Union in 1991/1992.

I was excited to learn about the Bibliomist project. I printed out information, had it translated, made sure Natalia, my Russian tutor and English professor, was available, and went to the library full of enthusiasm.

Of course Iryna knew about Bibliomist. She is a member of the Ukrainian Library Association. She has dreams for her library. She smiled at me and made tea. We chatted a bit, and then she went to her cabinet and pulled out a large file. It was her Bibliomist file, crammed with documents and information. Well, I said, let's apply!

That's when reality set in. Iryna explained that in order to be eligible for the project, libraries must have modern electrical and wiring systems, security systems, fire alarm systems, and so on. The libraries must demonstrate they are fully ready to have the computers installed with online access.

Iryna then pulled out what looked like architectural drawings. It was a plan to rewire the library and modernize the building. The cost for rewiring was about 20,000 hgryvnia. That's about $2,500 in U.S. dollars, which doesn't seem so bad. For a small Ukrainian library, however, that can't even afford to replace a broken-down printer, it is prohibitive. Deflating, to say the least. I slumped in my chair. I sensed myself feeling like a Ukrainian.

So, then, the libraries that need this project the most are the libraries with the least money and the fewest resources to become eligible for computer installation.

My mind raced ahead of me, and certainly ahead of my Russian language ability. I turned to Natalia. Tell Iryna we will go to the city, the Rayon and the Oblast and urge them to support this project. I will also try to raise some money in the United States. I just threw that in for effect, but honestly I was ready to write a check. We'll tell them they have at least to match any private donations.

Good god, I was thinking, Starobilsk desperately needs the Bibliomist project. Far-eastern Ukraine desperately needs it. The digital divide is HUGE here: so few people have computers, and even fewer have internet access. The hospitals don't even have computers. Everything is done by hand. Everything.

The libraries can become tools of community and change. They can become community information and resource centers. They can lead in civic education. They can be catalysts for reform, and hope, in Ukraine. What can we do? What next?

Am I ready for Winter?

Winter comes early and stays late in Ukraine, like an unwelcome guest. I came here with the new winter clothes I had bought in Toledo, Ohio, during visits to my children and grandchildren, just for the occasion.

Having lived in Florida for ten years before joining the Peace Corps, I had long ago given up my winter wardrobe. I didn't own a coat, let alone boots and long-johns. We don't have summer, fall, winter, spring in Florida like they do up North. The shedding of the live oak and massive banyon trees signals subtle seasonal changes, but it is mostly spring and summer.

I got used to it. How glorious to see the purple, pink, and coral shells surrounding the tiny white flowers of the bougainvilla in full bloom in the winter. To plant impatiens and other annuals in January that you couldn't put in the ground up North until June. How exhilarating to go to the beach in February to soak up the winter sun while snow fell in Toledo. That's when my grandkids loved to visit, and I couldn't have been happier.

Even so, I was a "snow bird" at heart. Afterall, I had lived in Toledo for some 20 years. Before that it was Madison, Wisconsin, where the winters were long and hard, the coldest I've experienced. Before that it was in Massachusetts, where I went to college, and before that Rochester, New York, where I grew up. I still in some ways call Rochester home, I think because it was home to my mom and dad. We had some amazing blizzards back then, in all those places. Even Washington, DC, where I lived before moving to Florida, had it's seasons, and not just the political kind.

So it's not like I never experienced winter and four seasons. The changing seasons composed the rhythm of our lives. They were entwined in our being--the colors, the scents, the changing light of the morning sun and the evening sunset. The first snow. The lime-green budding of trees. The early sprouts of daffodils and tulips pushing through hard ground. The long flowing arms of pussy willows and yellow forsythia. The lengthening of days and the hot sun of summer. The splendor of fall, of red, orange and yellow trees swaying against a cobalt blue sky and flowers brighter than ever in anticipation of their resting time. Vivaldi had it right.

I will never forget the moon that sat like a huge golden ball on my neighbor's lawn in Toledo one autumn night, the biggest moon I have ever seen before or since. I shook my head in disbelief, and looked again. Was that really the moon? I felt like I could walk just a few hundred yards east and be on the magic kingdom. The moon was that close, that bright, that accessible. To this day, I see that moon in my mind's eye, and think of the changing seasons.

I brought that image to Ukraine with me. It's never been duplicated, but I'm once again living in a place with four distinct seasons.

I relived the pleasures of spring in Chernigov as a Peace Corps Trainee (PCT), where the lilacs were as bountiful and beautiful as those I remember in Rochester, which billed itself as the lilac capital of the world. I greeted summer in Starobilsk as a full-fledged PCV, when gardens were planted and the berries were ripe. I sunbathed in my first bikini in Berdyansk on the Sea of Azov. I basked in the light of fall through the golden leaves of trees in Lenin Park, until I fell and broke my arm, and brought winter a bit early to Starobilsk.

Now, in November, the days are short and the nights are long, only some 8 hours of daylight. It rains a lot and the roads are a muddy, wet mess. It's dark by 3:30 in the afternoon, I kind of complained to my cousins Leo and Kathy Curro, who live in the mountains of northern New York state, not far from the Canadian border. Kathy reminded me that we are sharing life on or near the 45th parallel. As far away as I feel at times, there's not that many degrees of separation between us. It's cold and gray. Low dusty clouds hide the sun day in and day out. I am anticipating the below zero weather, the snow and ice, with some dread. It's the ice that scares me most; I'm more afraid of ice than flu. But I think I'm ready for winter.

Well, I thought I was ready for it. I have my shiny bright blue, double-zippered Lands End coat with a big fur-trimmed hood, matching slip-on rubber shoes, and a pair of boots with thick soles. I have long-johns and sweaters to layer up.

For some reason, though, my outer winter gear doesn't seem quite right. The coat is not stylish here, nor are those rubber shoes.

The first time I appeared in the library in my winter outfit the librarians looked me up and down, stopped at my rubber shoes, and wondered aloud if I had the right clothes for winter in Starobilsk. Those shoes certainly are not warm enough, they said with concern. Truth is with a broken arm I can't get my boots on and off, so I just slip in and out of those rubbers. it's hard enough to get in and out of that coat. I didn't know how to say all this in Russian. I just said it's ok. I'm warm. Thank you. "Etta harashow."

A few days later the director of the Library, Iryna, wearing knee-high black leather boots with pointy toes, asked me if she could buy me a pair of boots! A few other people have made similar offers. I don't usually blush but for some reason I felt myself turning red at such generosity.

Natalia, who was with me in the library, wearing a belted fleece-lined leather coat that came down almost to her ankles, added with a laugh that my coat needs help too! From afar, she said kindly, I look like a little girl in a too-big hand-me-down jacket!

It seems that lots of folks in Starobilsk are wondering whether the Amerikanka is really ready for winter.

I guess I didn't hit the right balance of style and warmth in my winter blues. I've decided to keep what I have and hope my arm gets strong enough so I can put on my boots, and the trak things that go on them to walk on ice. The boots are bright gold with fur, klunky but comfortable, and now I'm thinking they are not really stylish either.

Wait until Starobilsk sees these boots. I think I'm in for more ribbing, but hey, what the heck, laughing through winter wouldn't be all that bad. It never occured to me that a Peace Corps Volunteer could bring such good cheer to the winter season of Ukraine with so little effort. Wait until they see my matching bright blue wool cap and earmuffs!

Viola

Her name evokes music and beauty. Her spirit encompasses them.

Viola has another year to go in high school. She loves languages. I tutor her in English, but she also studies French and German. When she graduates from high school, she tells me, she will continue her language studies. Her green eyes sparkle.

We had a great conversation last time we were together (which was before I broke my arm) about the Autumn poems I had used at the English Club. Viola not only read them carefully, she analyzed them, talked about why she liked them, which were her favorites, how much she liked the color and images in the poetry. All this in English.

Her mom, Natalia, is a bookkeeper, but her first love is travel. Viola has inherited her mother's international interests.

It is Viola's dream to travel the world, to visit the big cities--London, Paris, Berlin. Do you want to visit America? “Of course!” she replies without missing a beat. “I have had this dream since I was 7 years old. That's when I started to study English.”

She loves contemporary English and German rock music. She mentions groups I've never heard of, Green Day, Tokyo Hotel, Amatory. She shares her interest with her best friend Julia. Her mom likes rock, too, like the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Pink Floyd. Now i'm on more familiar ground, though her mom is only in her thirties, herself a youngster in my mind. Next year, Viola and her mom want to travel together.

I admire Viola's talent in languages, her determination, her seriousness of purpose. “I have a dream,” Viola says. She is working diligently to make that dream come true. I believe it will.

Young Helen

Helen; (right) my grandkids, Tony with great-grandson
Philip, Josh, Allison, Julia. Kyle is probably playing soccer.

I tutor fifteen-year-old Helen in English. Her parents, Luda and Andre, want her to do well in her studies. Helen is a busy teen. She's about the same age as my granddaughter Allison, who's in the 9th grade at her Sylvania, Ohio, high school.

A Ukrainian teen, an American teen. Though worlds apart, Alli and Helen share some of the same interests: sports, music, dancing, the computer and internet games, text messaging, and spending time with friends.

Also, they both like to shop. I think Helen would like the big malls we have in America, and Alli would like the specialty stores and shops here in Ukraine. I'm sure Alli would love walking through the Bazaar with Helen. Whenever I see Helen, I think of Alli, and all of my grandchildren.

Helen is close to her four cousins, Nastia, Mary, Ksusha and Vita. They are like sisters to her. Two live in Starobilsk, and two in Krosnohrad, a few hours from here. Last month she visited Kiev with friends. She loves the city.

Helen's not sure what she wants to be when she grows up, but she likes politics. That surprised me. "I am a patriot," she says proudly, and in perfect English. She means that she loves her country and is proud of her heritage.

When I ask her about the upcoming presidential election, she is diplomatic. She's not sure who she would vote for if she could vote. Politics can be corrupt, she says.

Well, maybe you'll be president of Ukraine one day, I say. She laughs. "I hope politics gets better before that." Me, too. I wish Helen could vote. I wish I could vote for Helen.

My Brother Loren

Loren and I in Costa Rica, 2007

My brother Loren is in Tallahassee, Florida, but he is also here in Starobilsk, Ukraine with me.

That's because we are soulmates. We share a way of looking at the world and a way of being that transcend space and time. Although eight years apart, we are almost twins, as my poet friend Anton would put it.

Loren is having a birthday this week, 12 November, so I think of him a lot at this time of year. He's a Scorpio with compassion.

I also take him places with me. When he drove me to the airport to see me off on my Peace Corps adventure at the end of March, I took his spirit with me. When I discovered Chernigov during my training, he was there, encouraging me to forge ahead. When I got to Starobilsk, he got here too. When I broke my arm, he was with me in Kiev. Whenever I see the moon, I see Loren, because I know he is looking at it too, and glorying in the fullness of being and the grandeur of the universe.

As I get to know Ukraine, he is by my side, giving me the ancient history of this place. He reminds me that this geograhy and culture go back thousands of years, to the time Jean Auel describes in her best-selling novel (and Loren's favorite book), Clan of the Cave Bear. Olga is the name of that book's heroine. Other names of people I write about in my blog, Anton, Natasha, Lara, Anna, are characters in his favorite novels by Tolstoy.

Loren is one with the goddess who watches over the earth with compassion and goodness, the female counterpart of God who teaches us to live in peace, to take care of her planet, to see the oneness and unity of people and the earth. This spirituality informs Loren's environmental work, his work for the poor and voiceless, his belief in participatory democracy, in changing society for the better from the bottom up.

"All things are connected," Chief Seneca said, exemplifying the ancient wisdom of the Goddess and the native peoples of America. So, while I am in Ukraine and Loren is in Florida, we are really sharing the same place, mother earth.

Now Loren is writing his memoirs about growing up with Asperger's Syndrome. My brother is a fierce warrior who fought a beast that held him back all his life. He never gave up. He kept fighting, even when he wasn't sure what he was fighting against.

There was no name for it when he was a child in the 1950s or a young man in his 30s and 40s. Loren searched for himself without a guide, on his own, with grit and determination. Only our mother took Loren under her wing and gave him hope. His story is one of struggle and achievement against the odds. He has come to understand himself and the path he was put on at birth. It hasn't been easy.

I am proud of my brother for making his life one of purpose and meaning. He is my hero as well as my soulmate. So Happy Birthday, Loren. Good luck with your book. You're in my heart and soul. Your big sister, Fran

The Warriors

With one hand clapping, it takes a while to get ready to leave the warmth of Luba's to brave the cold of winter. We had our first snowfall last night. A light dusting of white flakes covers house tops, trees and roads. It's pretty.

I am going back to NGO Victoria for the first time since breaking my arm. I walk carefully from Panfelova to Lenin Park, snug in the winter clothes I had brought in anticipation of this time. They are clothes I bought In Toledo that I didnt need in Florida. A flu epidemic has been declared in several oblasts and most schools and public buildings are closed. It's quiet in Starobilsk. White and silent.

I'm not quite ready to do battle, but the warriors are at work. Among them are my friends Olga and Tonia. Victoria's is having a meeting about the gasoline station the city wants to build on the river Aydar that runs through Starobilsk.

Most people are opposed to having a petrol station on their precious river. "Any place but the river," they say.

As I understand it, there are environmental ordinances and laws against this type of building, which the city and some business interests are ignoring. There is also a law requiring public input for such projects.

NGO Victoria wants to ensure that such laws are enforced. It is in keeping with the "Know Your Rights" project, for which I am writing a grant to the Peace Corps. Victoria is providing public forums, meeting with city and oblast officials, making tons of phone calls, giving people a chance to speak up and speak out.

I may not understand Russian, but I understand community organizing. I understand the importance of giving voice to those who oppose the direction of their government when it is contrary to the people's interest. And I understand the environmental concerns that motivate such actions. Many of us in Florida don't want oil drilling in the Gulf of Mexico, off our beautiful and fragile shoreline.

It's about making democracy work. It's about holding government officials at all levels, from the local to the national, accountable for enforcing the laws and being responsive to the will of the people most affected by their actions. It is about transparancy and accountability.

Victoria's seems to be the center for this kind of action here, and in much of far eastern Lugansk oblast. This former Soviet town, still so connected to Russia in many ways, by language, culture, and family ties, is on the move. The warriors are arming themselves.

I am a silent observer, but the small office is crowded with 12 articulate activists, and others who come and go, showing their support. Some are members of a World War II veterans association. Some are friends of the river. Some, like Olga and Tonia, are fearless critics of what they see as the folly and intransigence of local government. It's an impressive effort.

I'm not sure what the status of this project is, but I don't think the activist are going to let the city build a gas station on their river, at least not without a fight.

Oleg, a journalist whom I met a few weeks ago at the office, is at his computer taking notes. I think it's part of his project for a Soros grant. That in itself is of interest to me and I hope to learn more about it in time.

I am still putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

But I am getting the picture. If the citizens gathered at Victoria's have a say in it, Starobilsk will continue its march toward a democracy that works for all the people, not just the few. The warriors are on the rise.