Remembering Mom (July 2, 1915 to March 31, 2003)

If you could see me now, mom! In the village of Starobilsk, in eastern Ukraine, a Peace Corps Volunteer. Getting to know the people, the place, the customs and traditions. You used to call me your "Peregrine," that mythical bird who wanders the world. I guess I am a wanderer. I know it's how you thought of me when I was in graduate school in Madison.

It was a tough time for you. Dad was sick, you were alone. Andy and I were away in college, then in new marriages, starting families. Loren was home, and that was good, because you comforted each other. Still, it was maybe the worst of times, the times you wrote about secretly in your "Pensees," which we discovered among your momentoes only after you died.

But I know that is not what you want us to remember, the tough times, the sad times. You want us to remember the best of times. The times we shared as a family, 301 Landing Road South, Allencreek school, Harley. How you loved meeting our friends and having us bring them home, and how much they loved you and dad. Bob Gray, 50 years after graduating from Harley, remembers you as "elegant." His memory made me happy.

You want us to remember the music. Your singing. Practicing your arias. "My Madama Butterfly." You want us to remember our piano lessons. The choirs. The Eastman. The reception in our home for Leontyne Price, the great opera diva. The concerts and plays and ballets. Dad's Christmas music.

You want us to remember the family dinners and holidays. Your dad, our grandparents. Extended family gatherings, the fun ones, the fun times with cousins. The cookies you baked, the fruit cakes, the way you decorated our home, with such beauty and love. The trips we took, the times we shared, the dreams we had.

You want us to remember how you spent good times with your cousins when you were growing up in Rochester. How you excelled in languages in high school, went on to Geneseo college to study psychology and education, taught for a while. You want us to remember that you were an innovative teacher, teaching languages to young children, "the younger, the better," you said. You spoke several languages yourself. I wish I had inherited that language gene from you!

I remember your love of books and ideas, the great classics that you devoured and that we discussed at dinner. What discussions! One time, I was in high school and I think you were reading Sartre, you said something like "I don't believe there is a God," which set off quite an argument with dad. We three kids tried to get in our two-cents as best we could. I don't recall how it ended, or even getting up from the table. But oh what a memory! I am still at that table, mom. Still listening, still hearing you.

You want us to remember you with our children. The #1 grandmother in the world. The best Nana to every one of them, all four girls, Elissa and Michelle, Kaaren and Allyson. The games you played; the costumes and clothes you made, so many lovely clothes; the arts and crafts you did together; the trips to the art museum, to Nantucket, to Florida; the beautiful doll houses you created for each of them, family treasures. You are in their hearts, forever. They won't forget. "Nana banana," as Ali still calls you fondly. "Nana's candy dish, her piano, the Curio cabinet, I'm so glad I have them" Michelle says. "That chandalier and bedroom set," Kaaren laughs. "My beloved artist nana," Elissa says, as she gathers everything you left behind, even your shells from Nantucket. They love you still, and miss you. "I wish Nana were here."

I don't know why I sometimes wander back to sad times, when I was at low points, when I was ungrateful, insensitive, those times you needed me to be there, and I was somewhere else. I know you want me to go beyond that. You told me so yourself before you died. I mostly have, and it's better when I do, because then I am focusing on you.

I am appreciating your strength, grace, and dignity. I am appreciating your beauty and talent and all of your gifts that you bestowed on your three children so generously, with unconditional love.

I'm with you now mom. And I know you are with the angels. I know you are at peace, green eyes sparkling, a beautific smile. I like to think that you are filled with the love of all the people whose lives you touched: dad, your kids, your grandkids most of all. I like to think that this love is so powerful it is filling you with joy and light.

You are our light mom. Andy's, Loren's, and mine. Elissa's and Michelle's, and their children, Julia and Tony, Alli, Josh and Kyle. Elissa is now grandmother to Julia's son Philip, my great grandson, your great-great-grandson. Ali and Jay are parents to Ava Rose and Leo. All beautiful. All your legacy.

You are our role model for passing on love and wisdom, for cherishing a strong sense of family and family traditions, for valuing critical thinking and love of learning, for knowing the meaning of compassion and caring for others. We love you.

Back in Starobilsk

far right, at Michelle's home; my grandchildren at my birthday party.

Hard to say Goodbye
Saturday, 27 March. My visit home has ended. We crammed in as much as we could on my last day, but we just ran out of time. Elissa, little Philip and I made a quick trip to the Toledo Museum of Art to look around, see a Gordon Parks (the great photographer) exhibit, show Philip the Matisse mural, and listen to Matthew, a friend of Elissa's,  play some lovely jazz on the museum's grand Steinway, encased in a bold contemporary design. He played familiar tunes and one of his own compositions, a waltz to send me on my way.

After the museum visit, we drove out to Sylvania to see Josh's Junior High basketball game. Great game. Josh made a three-pointer. "That one's for you!" Michelle said with a big smile. Josh's team ended its season undefeated. The whole family cheered. Then it was time to say goodbye. The kids piled into Michelle's blue Suburu, waving away. I jumped and waved and blew kisses until the car disappeared. My heart sank.

My daughter Elissa drove me up to Detroit with a sleeping Philip in the back seat of the car. We reminisced about our visit, the things we did, our dinners, my birthday party, the books we collected and mailed to Starobilsk, our fun Mary Kay makeover with Alli. We agreed it was all wonderful. We talked about her new space at the Collingwood Art Center and some projects she hopes to work on. It's her time, I tell her. Your children are grown and pretty much on their own. Time for you. No one deserves it more.

We got to the airport and hugged, holding back tears. She drove off, Philip just waking, wondering where Nana is going now. I cry. I am going back to Ukraine to finish up my tour of duty with the Peace Corps. One more year and 3 months to go. I want to do this, and yet, it is so hard to say goodbye. Goodbye to my children and grandchildren and great-grandson Philip.

I wonder why I am doing what I am doing. Why not just stay put? Stay where my condo and friends are in St. Petersburg, stay close to my family in Toledo? Why do I leave the people I love the most? Why am I a wandering Peregrine, as my mom used to call me? Conflicted, torn between loves, I walk alone into the airport for a long five-hour plus wait for the plane to Amsterdam. Just me and my baggage. All of it.

Anxious Travel MomentsIt was a long wait, but I hate long goodbyes even more. The plane finally got off the ground at 10:00 p.m. I settled in, crowded on all sides in the center aisle, and tried to sleep, on and off. We arrived in Amsterdam 7 and 1/2 hours later, on Sunday 28 March at 11:00 a.m. Travel is not without some anxious moments and arriving at the gate at Schipol, with no one to help get us to the next gate, was a bit of a hassle. No one knew anything. I didn't see the arrival/departure board. I kept going and finally found a station where someone was willing to help. Of course the gate was at the opposite end of the airport. I got there as the plane was boarding, and made it to Kiev a few hours later. I'm now half-way around the world, without family, on my own.

I always end up the last in line at Customs, and this was no exemption, but knowing I had to find a way to get to the train station (Voksal) to catch my 6:40 p.m. overnight train to Lugansk added to the anxiety. I had about an hour. I made it through customs, got my luggage, went to an ATM, got some hryvnia, and was hussled by the "taxi recruiter." He's the guy who asks where you want to go and suggests a taxi and says how much, all in English. It worked for me (it usually does), because I didn't want to miss the train and I knew this would be the fastest way. The taxi driver kept upping the price on the way to the station, speeding to get me there on time. I told him not to worry I would give him a tip. He raced on. I held my breath.

Made it to the train on time. I got to the right track with the help of a stranger who spoke some English. I'm getting to know the train station pretty well, so I understood her directions.

Overnight Train
It interesting to take the overnight train to Lugansk. I meet people and have some interesting conversations. This time my 4-bunk coupe was shared by a pleasant middle-aged man and two young college-aged girls traveling in a group with four others who came in and out of the coupe. We smiled from time to time, but they were full of their own conversation, spirited and serious. The man and I were spectators. As soon as the girls left, we called it a day, or two-days. The train jerked along, and I was glad I didn't have a broken arm. An added bonus: a full moon followed us. This night it looked cold, white as a pearl. I see all those I love and miss, and they will see it too.

Doma!I took a taxi from Lugansk to Starobilsk with 3 other passengers. It was a relatively fast trip, just over an hour, faster than the bus or marshruka. I walked from the bus station to my doma (Starobilsk home) with all my stuff. The ground was hard and I was grateful for that. I looked for signs of spring along the path, subtle, but they were there. A few green sprouts pushing out of the hard earth, buds on trees swelling, a freshness in the air. I got to Luba's and saw that she had been working in her garden. She loves to garden and I knew she'd be at it as soon as she could. I spent several hours unpacking before Sergei got home, then Luba. Big hugs and smiles all around. We were glad to see each other. "My Amerikanka," Luba beamed. I felt warm and welcomed. Luba liked her presents from America. I emailed Vera, Natalia and Iryna to let them know I was back. I got an urgent email from Vera at Victoria's saying she and her folk artist daughter Elena needed me tomorrow to help finish a grant for a new folk art project. Sure, I'll be there! I have to go to Severodoneskt this week, too, to sign off on a new bank account for Vera's Human Rights Project, a Peace Corps approved bank. Not surprisingly, there isn't a branch in Starobilsk.

I'm back in the saddle again! Family visit over, adventures ahead, dreams of home swirling in my head.

In the States Again

above Saint Petersburg, Fl

I've been in the States since March 11 and, after a year in Ukraine, it's been a wonderful reunion. I celebrated my 70th birthday in Toledo, with my daughter Elissa organizing a large party and providing lots of goodies, along with my daughter Michelle who brought homemade food, fruit and dips, cookies and cupcakes. Best birthday ever! I spend time with all my grandchildren, and my beautiful great-grandson Philip, who's talking up a storm. I have dinners and lunches, tea and wine with family and friends, including friends I haven't seen in years and years. My daughters are talented and amazing and their partners, Mike and Matthew, are both extraordinary artists, so I've been surrounded by beauty and love. I feel fortunate, and embraced.

It's an interesting journey, and it's all great, even though at first I found myself almost overwhelmed in the large giant supermarkets in Toledo. So many choices. The pace of life is fast and furious. Everyone has a car. There's no walking to the market, no shopping at an outdoor bazaar, no bumping into friends in the middle of the street. All the roads are paved (though not without potholes). All the streets have lights. All the stores are full. Everyone speaks English!

In St, Petersburg, Florida, where my condo is, and special friends, wealthy couples walk well-groomed dogs along the glorious Bay filled with yachts, sit at outdoor cafes under a half-moon, shop the expensive stores, eat at expensive restaurants. It's beautiful in Florida now, and I loved being in the warmth and sunshine, but it's a contrast to daily life in Ukraine. Reverse culture shock.

Of course, the best part is being with family and friends, no matter where you are. At my big birthday bash everyone donated books for the Starobilsk Library, and enough gifts of postage money to send two to three boxes of books to Starobilsk. We are mailing them tomorrow, Elissa and I. I want everyone to know how grateful I am. As soon as I have access to a few pix I will send them along, with my deepest thanks.

Luba and Ira have emailed me that Spring has arrived in Starobilsk, with the tulips, leafing of trees, longer days, and anticipation of lilac season near the holiday of Easter (Paskka). I left Ukraine in winter and will return in Spring, this Saturday 27 March, full of wonderful memories of my visit home, and ready for my next year of Peace Corps service.

Celebrating Women

English Club (to the right), Street re-union (Dr. Olga, Asya, Olga, Luda, Tonya, me, photo taken by Dr. Sasha) , and with Vera and friends at Victoria's (Upper right).

It's the 8th of March, Women's Day in Ukraine, International Women's day all over the world.

I didn't think I'd be writing another blog before leaving for the states tomorrow, but yesterday, Sunday, was such a special day I want to record it. It began at the English Club at the Library. We started an hour early because the Library was closing at 1:00 for the Women's Day holiday, the 8th of March.

I was all ready to zoom in on our March theme of Women in History and Culture, but members came staggering in bearing gifts, for me! Roses, tulips, carnations, chocolates, jewelry boxes. What a lovely surprise. "You are our new role model for Ukrainian women," Luda told me, as I think I blushed beet red. It's being a babuska and great grandmother that does it. "You came to our country all alone, and you are learning our culture," Olga said. "You are a brave woman!" Applause. Oh my goodness. Such unexpected blessings. I said I didn't feel at all alone in Starobilsk. I felt loved, and I was gratefiul, and I gave them each a hug. "You are my new family. YOU are my heroes," I said, "because you are brave enough to come to the English Club!" More applause. And so began our Women's Day celebration in Starobilsk. We talked for a while around the theme "What do women want," and came up with a great list of about 23 things, and talked about them. Mostly, I think, we just enjoyed being in each other's company.

Then I was invited to Vera's, at the Victoria office in Lenin park, for a little gathering. Turns out Olga and Tonya were going too, and their friend Olga, whom I call Dr. Olga because she is a doctor and to distinguish her from the other Olga. As we walked from the Library to the Park, on a crisp sunny day, we ran into Asya and Sasha in front of the Cultural Center. What joy to see them! "I am so glad to see you because I am leaving for the states on Tuesday and I wasn't sure I'd have time to say goodbye," I blurted out. They smiled knowingly (the Starobilsk grape vine), and gave me a hug. We all knew each other or of each other and had a wonderful mini-reunion right there on the street by the park. Dr. Olga hadn't seen Dr. Sasha for a while and they were delighted to catch up. Sasha took our photo. "He is our best doctor," Dr. Olga told me, obviously very proud of him, "and Asya is a renowned teacher of English." What special people, one and all.

I didn't know what to expect at Victoria's. It was another wonderful surprise. Vera and some friends had set up a lovely table with food and cookies and a cake. There was wine and cognac for toasts. We were having a Women's Day party! Oleg, Vera's assistant, came to the office bearing flowers for all of us, and we sat down to good food, good company, good conversation. I toasted to"to the women of Ukraine, to us, to our great leader Vera!" Cheers and toasts all around.

I got back to Luba's about 5:00, laden down with flowers, presents and wonderful memories. And there was Luba, at the kitchen table, with Ira and neighbor friend Tonya (Berdyansk buddies), having another celebration and waiting for me to return! Another party with more wonderful women. More food, more toasts, more love. I gave the women my flowers and candy, and they gave me their love in return. I could not ask for more. I feel so blessed.

This morning, the official 8th of March, Luba, Sergei and Nikita came into my room with more gifts. Luba knew I was looking for anything Ukrainian to bring back to the states with me, and so she got me some souvenirs. We shared breakfast together, and I gave Luba presents. What a memorable time all the way around! Two days of celebrating women.

Rebirth

Winter is going. Can Spring be far behind?

The snow and ice are almost gone. A few days of mild weather, pagoda teplo, and it melts, very fast. Now it is water and mud, lots of mud. But muddy paths and deep puddles mean that Spring is coming, so how can we complain? It's in the air. I don't want to jump the gun, as it were, for fear of jinxing this wish. On the other hand, in Ukraine Spring officially begins on 1 March. No matter the solstice. Even a snow fall. We're there on paper, on a wing and a prayer.

For me this Spring also means taking my first trip back to the States in a year. I can't think of anything else. I've wrapped up my work, have one more English Club on Sunday (we'll celebrate International Women's Day), make a stop at Victoria's, and the rest will wait until I return. I'm cleaning my room, organizing files, putting things away, clearing shelves, packing, unpacking, re-packing. It's like that nesting instinct that goes into effect when you're 9 months pregnant and anticipating the birth of your child. Luba sees it. She smiles, touches her heart, shows 4 fingers. Four days to go.

I left Florida on 30 March, 2009, arrived in Kiev on 1 April. It wasn't an April Fool's joke either. I was really in Ukraine, with group 36, a bunch of raw Peace Corps recruits of all ages and backgrounds from all over the US. After 10 weeks of training in Chernigov, our boot camp, it was onto our sites. Now we are all over Ukraine, and doing good work, a seasoned group of dedicated volunteers. I've been a PCV in Starobilsk for 9 months. The one-year site anniversary is coming up fast, too, on 19 June. Then it will be just one more year to go to complete my service. Beyond that, I can't think.

Time has passed quickly. Some good has been accomplished. I 've lived through four seasons in Ukraine. I arrived with the lilacs in Spring, basked in the glow of a sunflower-filled summer that turned into a golden fall (inspite of a broken arm), and then made it through a long tough winter. We are coming into Spring again. The paths are muddy. The sun is warm. I see buds swelling on trees and bushes. Rebirth. You can begin again. You can go home again. To everything there is a season.

Korychevka Village School

The kids, and backrow, left to right, Olga;
principal Ludamila; me, and Tonya.

Tonya invited me to her school last week to meet her pupils. It's a school of about 100 students from first to 11th form in the village of Korychevka, where Tonya lives and teaches.

It's about 45-minutes from Starobilsk. Olga, Tonya's friend who made the arrangements and joined me, managed to get Vladimir Romashky, director of Starobilsk TV, there, too, to cover the event. And also to drive us out to the school! It was Ukrainian hospitality, generosity and talent all the way.

We were greeted at the door by Tonya and two students holding homemade Ukrainian bread on a red embroidered Ukrainian table runner,a wonderful traditional greeting for guests. We were entertained by the students, who put on a play, read poetry, and sang Ukrainian and American songs. A chorus sang Jingle bells. I met the principal, Ludamila, a lovely woman, warm and welcoming, and some other teachers and students.

Next we went into a room set up with dining tables featuring a variety of Ukrainian food, including vareneky, a national dish, made by the students. What's a Ukrainian gathering without food? It was served by young students in Ukrainian dress; they looked beautiful. We were regaled with more singing and welcomes.

I was up next. I thanked everyone, said how honored I was to be there, how much I liked their play and songs, and told a little about myself. Then came the Q & A. The students asked good questions, obviously well-prepared by their excellent teacher, Tonya. Do you have a family? What do you do here? How do you like it? What did you do in Ameria? Do you like Ukrainian traditions? Are they like American traditions?

It was fun, and the kids could not have been sweeter or more enthusiastic. It was like being at Camp Sosnovy and, in fact, I did recognize one young boy, Slava, who had been at the Camp. He was pleased I remembered him. He's the boy in the hat looking through through the window of the Ukrainian house, part of the students' play. You can see the beautiful bread and embroidery work too.

I passed out maps of the US, and like at the Camp, the kids wanted me to sign their copies, which I was happy to do! It was fun for the children to see a real American. For them it is a treat, and for me it is always a pleasure.

It reminds me how rich in talent and creativity young Ukrainians are, how they inspire hope. "I'll be back," I said as I left. They were delighted. I was grateful. I had received so much more than I gave, another heart-warming and unforgetable Ukrainian experience.