Life changing lessons

Question: Are there any lessons that changed your life and that you'd like to pass on to your daughter and grandchildren?

There are people whose presence in my life has been life-changing.  Your dad, Jim, is one of them.  As are some of the people I've worked with and some that I've met during the turbulent years of my early 30s.  I can't really point to specific lessons, it's more events, both internal and external, that taught me who I am and what I'm capable of.

I had two truly life-changing periods in my life, first when my family left the Soviet Union and second around the time that I met your dad during the year I turned 30.  Each of those periods has shaped me for the years to come and each has contributed to who I am today.  But it's the second shift, the year I turned 30, that was a huge turning point in my life.  Through the events of that year and the years that followed I learned to believe in myself and in my ability to survive.

What I would like to pass on to you is this... Don't be afraid to try new things and to make mistakes, but at the same time, always be aware of others who are affected by your choices.  Moving across the country to follow true love is amazing when you're young and free, but it's quite a different experience when you are a single parent to a child who needs your love and support.  It wouldn't necessarily be any easier, but it would probably be a lot less frightening. 

So, live life to the fullest, whatever that means for you, just keep in mind that your choices affect others and some of those others may or may not be able to speak for themselves.

Childhood

Question:  What do you remember about your childhood?

My memories of my childhood are not happy ones.  I'm sure that my childhood was no worse than it was for many of my friends and perhaps better than most, but that's not what I remember.  I was a very tense and serious child.  I remember constantly worrying about everything, constantly feeling on guard and as if I weren't able or allowed to be myself.  I was always trying to do the right things and always feeling as if I were failing.  I never felt good enough.  I was always being corrected and told that I'm doing this wrong and that, that I had to behave better, be more polite, have better manners, get better grades.  Everything in life was an opportunity for improvement.

The only truly happy times I remember are the times I spent with my grandmother.  I adored her without reservations. When I mention my grandmother, I'm always talking about Grandma Bronya, my mother's mother.  I had two grandmothers and I'm sure that my other grandmother loved me just as much as Grandma Bronya, but for me, "grandmother" always meant Bronya and no one else.  I remember my heart thumping wildly, practically bursting out of my chest with happiness each time I went to spend time with her, especially when my parents would leave me at her house for a few days.

I have two memories, which in my mind, are forever connected with that happiness of being at my grandma's house.  My grandma's house was at the end of a long, narrow, winding alleyway.  The path was all gravel and the entrance to my grandma's yard was a tall, wooden gate.  I remember running ahead of my parents, bursting through the gate and yelling, "Grandma! I came to stay for a million days!"  I would do this every time we came to visit, even when I got older and would come to visit on my own, I would reach over the gate for the key, unlock it and then yell it out as a greeting.

There are a lot of things I remember about my stays with my grandmother, but one particularly stands out in my mind.  In those days, it was believed that kids should nap every day.  Kids napped to a much older age than they do here.  At my grandma's house, she would usually put me to nap on one of two couches in the house, depending on what she was doing and who else was at home.  Most of the walls had decorative rugs hanging on them and I of course knew all the patterns of all the rugs in the various rooms.  I remember waking up from my naps and delaying the moment of opening my eyes.  Consciously I knew that I was at my grandma's house, but there was a moment of fear in case I wasn't and so I would delay the moment when I would find out the truth. And then, as I would open my eyes and see the familiar pattern of one of her rugs on the wall above me, I would feel a hot wave of joy and happiness wash through me.  It's impossible to describe or compare that feeling of absolute contentment to anything else.  Those moments were pure magic and the happiest times of my childhood.

Earliest memory

Question: What is your earliest memory?

I must have been around three years old. I remember my mom and her friend, Maya, sitting on the couch in our studio apartment, talking. I don't remember what they were talking about, but I am guessing that they were talking about Maya moving to the United States. I do remember that they were deep in conversation and they really didn't want me interrupting them. Maya brought me a present, a small package of construction paper.

From that day, it's the construction paper that I remember the most. Growing up, we just didn't have anywhere near the variety of toys and art things that you had and still have. This pack of ten or maybe fifteen pieces of shiny, crinkly, foil like paper was pure magic. The pieces were small, maybe three by five inches and I remember that they were so fragile, I was afraid to play with them and handle them too much, but I couldn't put them down. I remember sitting on the rug and spreading them out in front of me - there were green and purple and silver sheets; there must have been other colors too, but those are the ones that I remember.  I remember the picture on the wrapping for the paper too, it was a picture of a frog, a cartoon frog, maybe drawn there to encourage kids to try and recreate it using the construction paper.

I don't remember what, if anything, I made using that paper. I just remember that warm, happy glow of opening the pack and watching those shiny, crinkly sheets slip into my hands. That's my earliest memory.