Something to Celebrate

How on Earth does time fly by so quickly?  You blink and you are 60!  Yes, The big 6-0! How the hell did that happen?  Gosh I'm old.  And frankly, I was feeling even older than that after the hellacious year I had struggling with my mom's passing.   Coming back to the dark days of winter in Moscow, I was battling the worst depression I've ever known.  Seasonal Affective Disorder, compounded by grief is not a pretty picture.  I would spend entire weekends never leaving my apartment.  I would just sit, staring into space and then notice that my shirt was wet from the tears that had been pouring down my face.  All I can say is it is a miracle that I clawed my way out of this terrible time and I am truly grateful for the friends who reached out to me.  The only thing positive  I can say about this experience is that it gave me a new understanding of what clinical depression feels like, an understanding of how death might seem like a more positive option than daily despair, and the deepest empathy for people who struggle with their own demons.  Keep fighting the good fight--  there is light to be found.

So I not only made it to a new decade, but I felt like I had won a battle from the darkness to the light. It was time to celebrate. I knew I wanted to do something really offbeat to celebrate this Big Zero birthday, so what to do?  Go somewhere?  Drink champagne?  A photoshoot in Red Square, complete with balloons and friends!  Why not all of the above?  Topped off with a night at the Four Seasons and a champagne breakfast!

When we had finished the photos, I noticed that there were some young high school graduates in Red Square so I thought it would be fun to give them the balloons for their photos.  They were excited!

But wait!  There's more...because you can't have a never-ending birthday if you only celebrate once.  So I celebrated again when I visited my good friends in Norway...

And then I celebrated again when I met up with my best friend in Poland!  Yes, that is a bottle of Dom and yes I had been waiting my whole life to try it!  All I can say is I am a cheap date, because it wasn't my favorite.  But I will say it made for the best mimosas with what we had left the next morning!



So, if I try to think of some life wisdom I could impart from all these 60 years, I would say that the best moments in life come from being surrounded by family and friends.  They give us the strength to make it through another day.  ps--I can't even believe I did not get any photos of my sister and family this summer!  I think it was a bittersweet reunion as we were busy sorting through mom's estate... and are still working on it.  I guess my other wisdom to impart would be to live large (with relationships and experiences) and live minimally (with things) because you really can't take it with you.   

Norway in the Summertime

Moss, Alby, Son and (and daughter)

After the longest, hardest year of my life after losing my mom, I desperately needed to be surrounded by family and friends. First I flew back to Texas to take care of some business and to see my sister and family.  I think we were so busy I did not even get any photos!  A visit with some of my college sorority sisters was good for my soul!  We laughed and laughed.  Sorted through some of mom's old photos...

 Mom being the consummate mom--she enjoyed being a mother and put her whole heart and soul into it.  This is her with my brother and I.  This furniture is trendy again! I think we called it "Danish modern" back in the day instead of "Mid Century modern, though!"

I love this photo of my dad and brother.  Dad was an Air Force pilot and flew KC-135 refuelers.  Bless my mom for putting up with giant photos of them as wall decor, though!  I wish I had one with my sister, but she came along 5 years later and the third child never gets as many photos--I guess the parents are so busy.

I splurged a little on the trip back to Moscow and flew business class.  What a difference getting some sleep on that overnight flight makes!

Preflight champagne?  Don't mind if I do!

I was bummed to find out I had a ten hour layover in England, until I found out I could spend the day with my friends Graeme and Christine.  We had a nice pub lunch followed by a Summer Fete.  Great day out in England and wonderful treat to see them!

 Cider at the "Smallest Pub in England" on Platform 3 in Claygate.

At the fete.

A great stopover, and then back to Moscow for a few days.  My cat was glad to see me!  And then the trip I had been so looking forward to....Norway!  I flew into Oslo and spent three days visiting with some lovely friends in Moss.  Grete and her family were my dear friends when I lived in England (and still are). I taught her son, David who is my Godchild.

 The amazing and wonderful Grete Woman and Kjell

 I recognize this cabinet!  And one candle for every family member.

 Grete and Kjell grow beautiful flowers.  Grete's artistic touches even extend to her salads!

We took a little drive to Son (pronounced "Soon") one day--a lovely old harbor town.  The day was wet but not our spirits.  "There is no bad weather in Norway, just bad clothes!"  We followed up Son with lunch at a cafe in Moss.  Grete looked at me like I was crazy when I started shouting, "Eric!  Eric!" but actually I had just seen one of my old students from Moscow, coming to eat at the same cafe!  It's a small world, after all.

Beautiful downtown Son

The next day we went to Alby.  We took a nice walk through the forest to a pebble beach on the Oslo Fjord.  There is an old stately home that has been turned into a modern art gallery (Gallery 15) in Alby.  I had a gorgeous salad there!

 Found my souvenir! 

 This was an unusual plant--it is seperate little berries, not a blackberry.

Awesome salad with Norwegian shrimp and pickled red onion!

Grete had a little party while I was there, and I finally got to meet Grete's other children, Glen and Jacqueline.  I felt like I already knew them from hearing so many stories about them over the years!

Grete will probably kill me for posting this picture on the internet but I love it.  She has had more than a few hard knocks in her life, but she has an indomitable spirit and somehow manages to find the humor in life (and stick her tongue out at it!).

My soul restored, I set off for Svalbard and the Arctic Circle.

Time for a Topical Post

All Aboard...

It seems you can't tune into the news these days without fresh new sexual harassment allegations against some movie producer, celebrity, person in power.  The old ball got rolling (oh...bad choice of words) when allegations began about Harvey Weinstein.  And there have been jokes about him being a slimeball pervmeister for decades.  So why did this particular outcry suddenly take?  Maybe it was the sheer volume of women coming forward--with a veritable avalanche of allegations against him.  Or just one too many hotel room massage meetings?

This was followed up by Alyssa Milano's #metoo campaign.  Twitter and facebook and who knows what other social media were flooded with women telling their accounts of the sexual harassment they have experienced in their lifetimes.  And my big take-away from that movement is that most women and a fair few men would have had to spend their teens and 20's under a rock to not have a "me too" story to share because we've all got them. 

And now we can add to the toppled icon mix a couple of Senators, tv talk show personalities,  CEO's and publishing execs, Matt Lauer, and who knows who else will come crashing down from their mighty pedestals before all is said and done.  Apparently, we can only turn a blind eye to "pussy grabbers" when we are electing them for our top office but everyone else is fair game.

I in no way support sexual predators.  I was incensed when Rapist Brock Turner was given a slap on the wrist after he sexually assaulted an unconscious young woman.  But for crying out loud, the current witch hunt that is happening can't be the answer, either.  What disturbs me most about all of this is that no due process seems to be happening.  Women with stories from as many as 10-20 years ago suddenly decide that they need to speak up against someone and he is immediately forced to resign from his job.  It's kind of like the Salem Witch Trials, circa 2017.

Another starlet comes forward with her tale of being "sexually harassed" but then admits that the man "respectfully stopped" when she told him to.  So I think it begs the question--is that sexual harassment?  If not, then what is sexual harassment?  Is it anything I'm uncomfortable with?  If so, let me head to the nearest college campus so I can take shelter in the designated "safe space".  If I tell someone to stop, that they're making me uncomfortable, and they "respectfully stop" did harassment happen?  Or does it revolve around power differences?  Is it harassment only as long as the person has some sort of power over me?  Or controls an industry I want to work in?   Is it harassment if a man I'm not attracted makes a pass at me?  What if George Clooney makes a pass--is it still harassment?

I once worked with a woman who complained to me about being sexually harassed by someone we worked with.  She seemed quite distressed about it, debating whether to report him or not, and frankly I was kind of shocked and offended on her behalf.  I have definitely not had that experience as a teacher--even when I was younger and cuter!  I can't think of a venue less likely to inspire harassment.  But as it happened, a few days later I went to a party and the both of them happened to be there.  I thought, "Oh dear--this is going to be awkward."  But no--they drank a couple of beers, had some playful banter back and forth, and the next thing I know, she slaps the guy on his rear, laughing and smiling as she did so.  Seriously, who was harassing whom? 

Clearly I don't have the answers here, but some life experience has given me me a few observations.  When I have conducted myself professionally, harassment hasn't happened.  When I have dressed professionally, harassment hasn't happened.  When I have been sober and in control of my behavior, harassment hasn't happened.  That's not to say harassment should happen if I'm dressed like a two bit hooker on the pull while nursing a fifth of Jack, but I have found my deportment, dress, and demeanor go a long way in my having control over a situation.  Maybe I've been in the right places or avoided the wrong places.  Maybe I chose a career that was fairly safe.  Maybe I've just been lucky.  As I said, I don't have the answer.  Maybe a little mutual respect?  But this current get-onboard-the-harassment-bandwagon approach doesn't seem to be the answer, either. 

Just trying to make it better...

I can be an overly critical thinker at times.  I know this about myself.  I don't look at things and say, "Golly gee, this is wonderful."  Instead I say, "Well, X and Y are ok, but it could be better if you did Z."  If you ask my opinion, I will tell it to you pretty much just like that.  This does not endear me to those going through life in rose-colored glasses. I get that.

I blame my college English classes.  You want critical analysis? I can deliver! I also blame my dad. I remember being eight years old, and hand delivering my report card, all excited to show my my 95's and my 96. My dad looked at it and said, "Wow, Barb!  That's amazing--fantastic job!"  Just kidding. He did not say that at all. Instead, he said, "96?  Why isn't it 100? What do you need to do to get it to 100?"  He would go through my photos that I took at Girl Scout camp and critique the composition, telling me how I could use the light and shadows and the arrangement of the subject to make it better. So in the Lewis household, it was never "Look how well I did," but rather "How can I make it better?"

So I go through life doing penance for my overly critical brain by trying to do random nice things for people, hoping to even out the balance in some karmic way.  I've stopped and helped at terrible collisions, stopped to help a boy on a skateboard hit by a car, helped lift a man in a wheelchair up into his bus, given enough money to the little old lady kneeling in the snow begging so she can go home and get warm...just wherever I see a little need I try to "do unto others".  This I also learned from my dad.  How many times was the whole family piled into the car going somewhere when Daddy would pull over to help someone whose car was broken down?  I don't have fingers enough to count! So I try to "make it better" but this can be a problem in a country where you don't speak the language. You don't always know if it's culturally appropriate, if you will offend people, or what the expected behavior is.

Take just now, for instance. I was at the little butcher shop by my apartment when a man walked in. Although he was wearing a suit, he looked a little rough around the edges. He looked like someone old before his time, with a heavily wrinkled face and unkempt beard. His suit was old and worn, and his shoes had broken buckles and worn down heels. He first looked at the cheese, asked the shop lady something, and then went and looked at the bread.  Then he walked out without buying anything. I thought he had looked hungry, but it could have been my imagination.  As I stood in line to buy my hamburger meat to make some tacos for dinner, I couldn't stop thinking about that man, and feeling guilty that I would have a nice supper and I didn't know if he would or not.   I wondered about buying some of the cheese he had been looking at and some of the bread and just handing it to him as I walked home. But I didn't know which direction he had gone or if I would see him again, or again, if it would be awkwardly inappropriate.

You know, when people in the US think they are poor, they still have a television.  They still have a cell phone.  They still have regular meals--it might be beans and cornbread, but they get to eat. But in my years overseas, I have seen poverty of a very different kind. The kind where you go to bed hungry and wake up hungry and keep going from there. I kept thinking maybe I should try to find the man and give him some money for dinner. But it is awkward--what if I would offend him?  What if he didn't really need any help and I embarrassed him? I don't have the Russian language to politely say something like, "Hey, if you can't use this please pass it on to someone who can."

I kept an eye out for him as I walked home, and then I noticed him under a tree. He was picking up some very tiny pears that had fallen from the tree and was putting them into an old plastic bag. And again, I thought he might could use a little cash but maybe he was just a guy who wanted to gather some pears?  Then I watched as he picked up a half a pear that looked like it had been eaten by birds. He sort of considered it, looked at the slim pickings on the ground, and then put it in his bag. That was when I decided to risk the cultural faux pas and possibly look like an idiot. I walked over to him, having to pass in front of the people lined up at the bus stop and said, "I want you to have this" and handed him the 500 rubles I had folded really small so I could slip it to him discreetly. I said it in English, but he must have understood my intentions. He reached out and took the money and said "Спасибо".  It was not much--about $10--but maybe it would buy some bread and cheese.

There is so much need in the world and I know my tiny little drops into the great big bucket aren't much, but I am still thinking "how can I make it better?" That man will be on my mind for days.  I wish I knew his story--I still don't know if I did the right thing, but I tried.  I guess that's all we can do.     Matthew 25:40

A Very Blogworthy Day

This rainy, gray Tuesday began with a group of burly looking, armed men in flak jackets striding towards me. Yes, a SWAT team was at my apartment block this morning. Now I don't know about you, but as soon as I see armed police in heavy gear purposefully striding towards me, I start racking my brain to remember what I did wrong and get an immediate guilty look on my face.  I'll bet my eyes were as huge as saucers.  But they were after someone else this morning, so that was good news.  You never know, given the current Russian/US political climate!

Next I remembered the artisan fair was happening at school.  We had already had an artisan fair in November, where I found a lady who painted beautiful folk art on old wooden pieces.  If you followed my house clearing episodes this summer, you know I was having to pack up/get rid of all sorts of things.  I had an old wooden box (or small trunk) that I had bought 25 + years ago when I lived in England.  An old box, with a cool skeleton key, but it was so old and dried out it was gray and not very pretty.  So I had the idea to bring it back here and see if I could get it painted.

I gave the box to the artist in November, and was supposed to go to Sergei Posad and pick it up in February.  But we ended up not taking a school trip there this year so I never picked it up.  I meant to call the lady yesterday (or rather, have my assistant call her since she speaks Russian) and ask her to bring it, but forgot to bring her card to school.  I was kicking myself and wondering when/if I would ever see that box again.  But as I walked round the fair today, I saw her sitting there--and lo and behold, there was my box! She did a fabulous job, and it is so very special to me because now it represents not one, but two places I have lived in my "overseas years".  (I guess I should add a Turkish magic eye and a Chinese dragon to get the full range, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out!)

So I was already chalking this day up as a win.  But wait!  It gets better!  As mentioned in my last blog post (oddly enough less than a week ago), the Veteran's Choir comes and performs at my school every year to celebrate Victory Day.  And every year, I look for my favorite little old man, Mr. Vasily. This year, Mr. Vasily was not there and I about panicked, because as I've said--there are less and less of the veterans every year.  I went and found Mr. B (one of our Russian teachers--such a lovely man! who helps to organize it) and said, "I didn't see Mr. Vasily.  Please tell me he's still with us."  I found out he had been ill and unable to come, but was so sorry to miss it that he wanted to come back when he was well.  So Mr. B came to me yesterday and said, "He's coming tomorrow, would you like me to bring him to your class?"  Would I?!!  Of course!

So in Morning Meeting time I told the kids--they were so excited!  We wrote some "interview" questions that we wanted to ask Mr. Vasily, which our Russian speakers would translate for us.  Finally he arrived at about 12:15.  He's getting quite frail so Mr. B helped him in and he sat at the front of the room--he is 94 years old now!  We began asking our questions, and Mr. Vasily told us how he went to war when he was 17 years old.  How normally training would take 6 months, but they needed more men quickly so his was only 3 months.  How he slept in trenches in the open and then became a tank driver and at that point lived, cooked, ate, and slept in his tank because "you would get shot if you got out of your tank". How he lost his arm when his tank was blown up at Stalingrad.  The kids were so spellbound we went right through recess time and no one even noticed!  I look up, and my "Mr. Tough Guy" student (who I adore, by the way) has tears just streaming down his face.  And then another student joins in.  And then another.  Until about half my class was crying.  You know, WWII was "Over There" for we Americans, but for Europeans it was "Right Here".  I'm sure many of my European and Russian students have heard family stories of the losses their families suffered, and it had been just a story.  But hearing it from Mr. Vasily who WAS THERE made it come so alive for the kids.   We were all just so touched and so honored to have Mr. Vasily share his story with us, and I know one day when the kids are in a history class and learning about World War II and the Battle of Stalingrad, it is going to be so much more meaningful for them because they met a man who WAS THERE.

So, it started with a SWAT team, and ended with tears, but this was truly an excellent day!

Mr. B and Mr. Vasily

Victory Day!

   VICTORY!

One of the biggest holidays in Russia is Victory Day, celebrated on May 9th.  I think I don't have enough words to describe what this holiday means to Russia, or what it has come to mean to me in my seven (so far) years of living in Moscow.  I hope my photos will help capture some of the spirit of the holiday.

First a little history is in order.  The Soviet Union closed its doors to the world shortly after World War II, and very little information was made public about the Soviet contributions and losses in the war during this time.  Or the deprivations faced by its citizens during and after the war.   If "all was quiet on the Western Front", there was not a peep on the Eastern Front.  So a few facts:

 It can be said that one of the main turning points of the war was the Battle of Stalingrad (now Volgograd).  The German army had taken the city.  They were not expecting a counter-offensive by the Soviets.  But the Soviets attacked the weakened flanks out on the steppe, and with Russian winter setting in, they captured the German army there, marking one of the first major wins for the Allies. Without the German army being occupied on the Eastern Front, it is extremely doubtful that the the Western Front would have been a win for the Allies.  Another point of attack for the German army was Leningrad (now St. Petersburg).  The city was surrounded; Hitler expected to "starve them out" within a matter of weeks. The brave citizens of Leningrad hung on for three long years of unbearable hardship and great loss of lives.  And when the Soviet army marched on Berlin, the war was soon over.

Of the 40 million lives lost in World War 2, nearly half of them were Russian!  A loss of 20,000,000 people in Russia!  There is an excellent documentary, The Fallen of World War II.  If you have 18 minutes to spare, I highly recommend it.  If you don't, skip forward to about the 5:30 mark and it will put the numbers in perspective for you. 400,000 American soldiers died in World War II, to give you a frame of reference.

So, May 9th celebrates the victory and end of this terrible war, and it is an important holiday here in the Motherland.  The veterans go out to Victory Park or other locations around Moscow.  You will see old, old men in their military uniforms, chests filled with medals, clutching armloads of carnations given to them by the public.  Most of them are in their late 80's or 90's now; sadly I have seen the number of old veterans growing fewer and fewer each year.   People will walk up and hand the veterans red carnations, or have their little children give the old soldiers flowers.  It is so moving to see the respect given to these heroes, and to see a culture that actively teaches their children to give respect.   It is a very festive atmosphere--there are concerts and picnics going on all around, and a military parade of tanks of every sort and a flyover of jets.  There is a massive assembly in Red Square--of course you can't get in there unless you are someone important, but you can watch it on television.  My school even has a veteran's choir that comes to perform for us each year, and I tell my students if they get a chance they should go up and shake their hands and tell them "Спасибо" (thank you).  These veterans will all die out in my students' lifetimes, and I can't think of a greater lesson my students can learn than to actually get to meet and thank some of these heroes.  Certainly far more important than any lesson I could ever do in my classroom.

I met this gentleman who was a fighter pilot at the age of 19

Young and old get their photos made with the heroes.

Some veteran groups hold reunions on this day

The entire city is decorated with flags and banners

Children giving flowers to lady hero

Sometimes things get lost in translation, but I'm pretty sure she was a well-known singer during WWII.  She was singing patriotic songs and a man came up and joined her singing.  She did not like that and began whacking him with her flowers.  Once a diva, always a diva!

I took this photo from a friend's 9th floor balcony.  Jet trails form the Russian flag.  They were so close I could have waved to the pilots.  (but I figured they'd better concentrate on avoiding the taller buildings!)

Concert of patriotic WWII songs in front of the Bolshoi

Victory day is always May 9th, but if it happens to fall close to a weekend, we get a nice long weekend holiday.  One year I went to St. Petersburg for the long weekend, and here are a few shots from their Victory Day celebrations:  The video is from Peterhof Palace--the army was performing the Victory song, Den Pobedy.  The pictures following are:  Naval flotilla, crowds thronging the streets of St Petersburg, and station cooking up Russian World War II rations (which you could sample) using vintage equipment.

So Victory Day--important for Russia, important for all of the Allied Forces countries, and important to me.  I hope I've shared a small glimpse of it with you.

The Things We Keep Along the Way...

My 86 year-old mom recently had a terrible fall in the driveway.  She broke her nose, did quite a bit of skin damage/tearing, and wound up in the ER.  The local hospital felt she needed more care than they could give her, so they took her by ambulance to a larger hospital in Dallas who had an emergency ENT doc.  While she did recover from the fall, she felt that living on her own and caring for the house was getting to be too much for her, so she moved into a very nice "independent living" facility where she gets three delicious meals a day prepared by chefs, a cleaner/housekeeper, and a smaller space to have to maintain.

My task in all of this endeavor was to clear out the house.  And I can't go a moment further without mentioning the invaluable help of my sister, Mary Ann in getting her moved and setting up and running an estate sale.  In addition to helping with the estate sale, I was tasked with all the leftovers. I spent the better part of the summer sifting through...what can I call it?  Ephemera?  Treasures?  Deciding what to send off to the Salvation Army, what to keep in storage, and what had outlived its usefulness and should now be retired to the bin.  And I can tell you that it is hard, emotionally going through all this old stuff--knowing you don't have space for all of it.  And picking and choosing, while I wouldn't exactly compare it to Sophie's Choice, it is difficult nonetheless.

I decided I needed a place to remember some of those objects, so here it is.... I'll start from the top and work my way down--I wish I could line up pictures better on here.

1) marble bust--weighs a ton!  It was my mom's parents.  Does it work with my traveling lifestyle?  No.  Does my decorating style work with marble busts?  Not really.  But I kept it in the storage unit--it was too hard for my mom to see it go.  Maybe I'll settle down one day and have a place for it.
2) my doll cradle.  I loved playing dolls with this!  And my mom made the pretty little cover.  Gave it to my niece--maybe she'll have daughters one day.
3)Annie's "feely heart".  A remembrance of my dear friend Annie, who died way too soon of a brain aneurysm. I will keep this forever.
4)paper weight--I made this in kindergarten.  Can you believe it still has water?  Thank you, Mrs. Freeman.  Gone, but not forgotten.
5) shoes I wore in college.  I thought they would be really crazy and one day I would say, "I can't believe I wore those!"  But actually, I still think they are kind of cute.  Just a bit too small.  I think they went in the trunk.
5) hand print - also made in kindergarten. I had a really crafty teacher! Can you imagine--we got to make things instead of do test prep! Gone, but not forgotten.
6) loom pot holder - made in first grade.  Hasn't everyone made one of these?  Santa brought me the kit for Christmas--I loved sticking my hand in that big bag of circle thingys!  Gone but not forgotten.
7) a whole bag of love notes from my first class.  Were kids just sweeter then?  Or was I?  I must confess--I kept them--I don't get so many of them any more.  I think we keep kids too busy for note writing these days!
8) all the cards and letters my mom and dad ever sent me.  Kept.  Rereading them makes my dad seem right there to me.
9) old family pictures....kept.  My mom always thought she was too fat--I think she looks beautiful.
10)My brother sends me blue jay feathers when I am going through stressful times.  He died 38 years ago.  (No, I am not crazy--that is a story for another time).  I got 3 this summer--one was lying on the kitchen floor.  Kept.

So those are some of my priceless treasures!

I wonder what sorts of "treasure" other people keep?