My Russian Family Read online

  The war was going badly for both sides in 1904, although Japanese commitment in providing men and materiel gave them an upper hand. Numerous smaller battles failed to create a decisive victor. The main base of the Russian naval squadron at Port Arthur, isolated from the main Russian forces, came under siege in 1905 and surrendered to the Japanese. Not long afterward there were small engagements, then a large and final land battle occurred at Mukden (later renamed Shenyang), the capital of Manchuria. It yielded some 160,000 casualties on both sides with still no decisive winner. The Japanese finally gained victory in the Battle of Tsushima when its new fleet, superior in speed and armaments, ambushed and destroyed the Russian Baltic Fleet which was on a seven-month trip to reinforce the aging Russian Pacific fleet now at Vladivostok.

  Japan was financially exhausted and, with the internal political unrest in Russia, both sides agreed to a peace table mediated by U.S. President Roosevelt. This was a great gift to the ambitious Roosevelt working to bring America out of its isolationist mode. Roosevelt was worried about the tsarist ambitions in Asia, as he worried about German ambitions in the Atlantic. He also did not want Japan to dominate the Far East, so he lobbied both sides to the peace table. Since Britain and Japan were diplomatically tied, as were Russia and France, neither was an acceptable arbitrator. No one trusted the Kaiser’s Germany. By default, the U.S. had become the natural mediator and Roosevelt won the 1906 Nobel Peace Price. Russia relinquished control of Southern Manchuria to China and control of Korea by Japan was diplomatically recognized. This was a temporary halt to Russia’s Pacific expansion plan.

  After this ignominious ending of the unpopular Russo-Japanese War, Ivan was demobilized and came home. He had not received any letters from his wife or relatives for a long time because mail was extremely slow in the beginning of the Twentieth Century. Ivan did not know how things were going with his family and in the small village.

  When he reached the village, all of his relatives and neighbors poured out into the street. But his wife did not show up. All the people tried to hug and kiss the soldier but he made his meetings quick and laughed, “I’ll give you all my kisses and hugs and have nothing left for my wife!”

  At this moment, the happiness was broken. Everyone turned their eyes away. Ivan looked around and then ran home. He flew into the house and called his wife’s name. But there was only silence. Feeling somebody’s hand on his shoulder, he turned around and saw his younger sister Linda, her eyes full of tears. “She is not here anymore,” she said.

  “Where is she?” He looked at Linda’s trembling lips and became angry. “Where is she, I’m asking!”

  “Oh Ivan, my loving brother! She is in heaven.”

  The strong soldier, who did not remember ever crying before, howled. The weeks of mourning turned into months but reality finally set in, as it tends to do with people living close to the soil and nature. Ivan realized that he had to put his first marriage behind him and move on with his life. Events occurred rapidly once he made the decision to remarry and the cascading steps carried him like a riptide to his wedding day.

  The sharp, clear sound of troika bells triggered a painful memory for Ivan. The gaily decorated, three-horse sled with its overhead rack of bells pulled up noisily in front of his house to carry him and his friends to church for his wedding with Varvara. Ivan’s face grew dark and his older brother Yeager asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “That sound of bells reminds me of my first wedding. How we loved each other and how happy we were. But now, many things are wrong.”

  “What things? What are you talking about?”

  “I lost my true love while I was off to the war. However, even the war was no good. I did not get to fight. I have no war stories and no medals. All that time and effort and I never fired my rifle at the Japs.” He paused in thought. “The biggest problem is that I had no chance to prove to myself that I could really face enemy fire. It is important to me and now I will never know.”

  Yegor paused in thought as he fingered the medals on his chest and remembered his own time of The Red Badge of Courage. He replied, “The irony is that you never saw combat, even though Russia lost the war. The tragedy is that your loving young bride pined away and died of consumption and a broken heart in your absence during that war. You know that you cannot live in the past. Look at all the good things. You survived the war, not even wounded. You are strong and healthy. Our youngest sister lives with you. You found a wonderful girl from a good family to marry. Get a hold of yourself!”

  Ivan smiled and shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. “Yeah, of course, you’re right!” He stared into space as though he were staring into the future and a revelation came over him. “I am lucky and you know what? My life is going to be all right. I’ve got to get on with my life. I’ve got to make it work!” The two brothers set out for Ivan’s second wedding day.

  The groom had faced the reality that spring planting was coming and he could not have a farm life without a wife. The brothers did not speak of it but they knew the truth of it. Of course, the young bride was oblivious to this dark thought. Varvara looked like a white lily in her filmy dress and soft transparent veil embroidered with silk orange blossoms. The bride’s eyes seemed to be blooming like forget-me-nots. The maid of honor Dahsha looked at her enviously. She told the beautiful girl, “Your groom left for the church already. You have to hurry.”

  The garlanded troika transporting the bride darted forward through the snowdrifts with bells ringing, carrying Varvara to her groom, her first and only love.

  During the ceremony in the church, when Ivan tried to place the ring on his bride’s finger, the ring fell to the floor. “That is not lucky for the girl,” the guests whispered.

  Is that true? wondered Varvara.

  The next ten happy years passed rapidly. They celebrated their wedding anniversary with their first two children, a boy Vassily and a girl Tania, who were born close together.

  The anniversary was a busy day and the quiet evening and her full stomach made Varvara relax. Her husband kept silent, watching a fire in the fireplace. She was studying his masculine profile. Her husband was always very good to her, shouldering the heavy burdens, going out of his way to help her and encourage her. Nevertheless, kisses and words of love from him were not common.

  She asked, “Ivan, do you still love your first wife?”

  The husband did not answer for a long time. Varvara’s heart trembled. Finally he drew in a deep breath and said, “Let’s not talk about the dead. Why are you asking?”

  The young woman whispered, “Because you never ever told me that you love me.” That instant, Varvara remembered the fallen ring in church.

  It was always obvious to me that my grandparents loved each other very much. However, she needed to hear the words every day and he was content to demonstrate his love by his actions. My granny never forgot the fallen ring.

  5. Relationships

  Is it possible to be happy and have no money? Many people think that it isn’t. Is it possible to be rich and unhappy? Many people think that it is. I ask these questions and I answer them with this: I think that everything is possible!

  When my Grandfather Ivan brought his bride back to his home, his 12-year-old sister Linda continued to live there with them. She was humpbacked from a childhood accident. A large homemade wagon pulled by a team of horses had struck Linda in the back while she was still an infant. Unfortunately for Linda, her back deformity later proved to be inoperable, thus destroying her dream of many years to eliminate her deformity and appear attractive. The girl was a kind person with large naïve eyes and a beautiful face. She would have been tall except for the accident. Linda was quiet like a mouse and timorous like a bird. Upon meeting her, the 17-year-old Varvara stroked her sister-in-law’s head and felt much older. She told Linda, “I’ll take good care of you, my dearest.”

  Ivan laughed and stated, “My little sister has taken good care not only of herself, but of me too! Do not worry, my de
ar, she is an excellent helper.”

  It was completely true. Every morning Linda got up early and started the fire, milked the cow, and did other duties associated with hearth and home. She was a magnificent homemaker and companion. Ivan and Varvara’s first child was born a year later. Linda became an unfailing babysitter. Everyone called her Nanny and that name became glued to Linda forever.

  Nanny lived with the family for many years. When Nanny was in her twenties, she and her village friend Big Dunnia decided to go to Moscow to earn some money. It was the early 1920s and Moscow was an exciting place, full of new faces and new ideas from the crucible of the revolution.

  Big Dunnia was from a large family with many children but she was the only girl. When Dunnia was a teenager, a younger sister was finally born. Her father was so glad it was a girl that he downed a large glass of vodka. When the happy drunk went to the priest to register the birth of his child, he forgot what name his wife had selected. The priest presented the baby with the name Dunnia and the celebrating father returned home. His wife then quietly reminded him with her fists clenched that he already had a daughter named Dunnia. But it was too late to change the name. Since that time, everybody called the older girl “Big Dunnia” and the younger “Little Dunnia.” Ironically, when the two sisters became adults, Big Dunnia was very short and Little Dunnia was very tall.

  The small Big Dunnia was physically similar to the hunchbacked Linda. Maybe that’s why they became friends. They would tell all their secrets to each other, all their hopes, all their plans.

  Looking forward to earning some money for Dunnia’s dowry and Linda’s back treatment, the two girls walked to the train station in a very good mood. Their hopes kept them motivated and cheerful. Good-by, village! Bye-bye, former life! Hello, future! Hello, new hopes!

  History repeated itself as the happy girls headed for the same large textile factory where Varvara and her friend Dahsha had worked.

  • • • • •

  Around 1915, Varvara took the train to Moscow on a buying trip to the big city. She was 27 years old and celebrating her tenth wedding anniversary so she indulged herself and visited a photographer’s studio. She was a soft woman but very strong inside and this is reflected in her picture. This picture was airbrushed to hide the scar on her lower face from a horse’s kick.

  My Granny Varvara about 1915.

  It was about this same time that my grandparents planned to build a new larger house from red brick and lease the old house as a storage unit. To make this dream come true, they raised two specially selected bull calves. When the bulls were mature, they took them to the market and sold them for a very high price as breeding bulls.

  Ivan put the money in his shirt pocket, refusing his wife’s offer to hide the cash inside her blouse on her bosom. Self satisfied, the husband and wife were going back home in their horse-drawn wagon, hugging each other and singing. Varvara said, “Please button your tunic pocket. I don’t want you to lose the money.”

  Ivan answered with a condescending smile, “I did button it!” He touched the pocket of his single-breasted, high-collared military tunic. Cold perspiration suddenly stood out on his forehead. The pocket was unbuttoned and empty!

  After this calamity, the couple made the bold decision to make the bricks and build the house themselves. All winter long they were shaping and firing bricks at a nearby clay site. After the harvest in autumn and with the help of all the neighbors, the new house was built. Final touches included a lilac bush, which was Varvara’s favorite flower. She loved the scent of the little purple blooms at the end of the branches. Her husband had planted it in the front yard in appreciation for his hardworking wife. Lilac bushes and acacia bushes with their wondrous gold flowers were popular and they were scattered throughout the village. Ivan and Varvara provided a sumptuous feast for all the helpers in celebration of the new red brick house. Everyone in the village was singing and dancing, wine and vodka were flowing, and everyone was happy except Dahsha, who had remained Varvara’s best girlfriend.

  The girls had missed each other very much after Varvara moved to her husband’s village Arscent’evo about a kilometer away. Dahsha had often visited her friend and told her all the news. The new wife and the single girl discussed funny events and, of course, married life and the relationship between Dahsha and her boyfriend Georgi. He had asked for Dahsha’s hand twice but her parents refused the proposition. The reason was that he was born into a very poor family. The young man was good looking and talented. He could sing and play the harmonium (an organ-like keyboard instrument). All of his friends respected him very much because he was the only local man who could play the music for their dancing.

  But now Dahsha was obviously unhappy. Varvara noticed her behavior and at the first opportunity she took her to a quiet side of the new house to ask what was wrong. Dahsha confided that her parents were preparing for her wedding with the ugly son of a rich family. The poor girl dissolved into tears and covered her face with her hands. She swayed as she moaned aloud. Dahsha’s body language was clear, she loved Georgi and he loved her, but it was not to be. At that time in Russia, no daughter or son could go against their parent’s wishes. Young girls frequently gave their hearts to one young man, but their parents dictated that she give her body and her future to another. This practice gave rise to a still honored tradition that brides on the day of their wedding should look stern and even unhappy. Frequently however, cold logical and experienced parents make better long-term decisions than young love-struck daughters!

  Varvara was happy about the new house and her three years of marriage, but like lozhka dyogtya v bochke meda, “a spoonful of tar in a barrel of honey,” that one always finds, her friend’s plight darkened her mood. However, she still had to carry on and help her friend prepare for her wedding to the abhorrent man.

  The following month there was a large wedding and reception. Afterward, the newlyweds departed for their new home. A miserable Dahsha broke away from her new husband and debated what to do. Desperation seized her and she hid outside the house under a large wooden barrel.

  Her confused new husband called to her, “My dear, don’t be afraid! I will even stay in a different room if you do not want to face me.” His searching was futile.

  Dahsha spent a couple of hours huddled under the barrel in an uncomfortable position. Eventually her cramped, stiff muscles compelled her to show herself. As she crawled out, she saw no one. The girl went inside and found the house empty. Discovering an empty bedroom, she lay down on the bed and, feeling victorious, slept like a log.

  Two years later, to everybody’s surprise, a happy and contented Dahsha gave birth to a beautiful daughter.

  Everything is possible—like I thought.

  6. The Lament

  How much can you lose before you feel that you are completely broken? Weak people could lose a little and feel completely shattered. Strong people could lose everything and never give up.

  The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the Crown Prince of the Austria-Hungarian throne, and his wife in Bosnia’s capital of Sarajevo on June 28, 1914 touched off a large powder keg. At first it was just another assassination, then on July 23, Austrian officials demanded permission to conduct their own investigation of alleged Serbian sponsorship of the terrorists. Serbia dismissed this ultimatum as “impossible” and a few days later a financial crisis started spiraling outwards like dominoes falling. German trading companies stopped sending money owed to brokers in London, European investors withdrew money from New York, and then banks started calling in loans. Panic shredded the international web of credit finance. Securities that were the collateral for immense pyramids of debt became worthless. The central banks were powerless to stop the outflow. The world’s stock exchanges closed to avoid a complete financial implosion. London’s Exchange remained shut down until 1915.

  Germany instigated the Austria-Hungary invasion of Serbia because it was an excellent casus belli, grounds for war. Germany’s inva
sion of Belgium to outflank France forced Britain to enter the conflict. Russia was an ally of Serbia and so Germany declared war against Russia on July 19, 1914. By August 4, a full-scale European war was underway. Thus, the system of alliances brought in all of Europe and eventually the world, involving some 38 different countries. Originally called the Great War and The War to End All Wars, it is now known as World War I.

  The events that led to World War I had a long history. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the industrial world divided into two hostile coalitions. One side was the “Triple Union” of Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Italy. On the other side was the “Triple Accord,” composed of England, France, and Russia.

  Germany had designs on Russia which included taking over the Ukraine, Belarus, Poland, the Baltic, and the Balkans. Russia’s interest was actually the same as the other colonial powers. The Tsar’s Government hoped that a war would distract people from internal rebellion.

  World War I started and sucked the people from the small villages and towns around Ivan and Varvara into its bloody whirlpool. The Tsar’s Army recruited Ivan’s younger brother, Varvara’s younger brother André, Dahsha’s husband, her former boyfriend Georgi, who was not yet married, and many other citizens. Varvara was happy that her husband could stay home. He helped plant and harvest the fields for their neighbors and family friends.

  Late every evening, friends gathered in my grandparent’s kitchen for an hour or so. Letters were rare and it was a big event when one arrived. They read these letters, wrote answers, and frequently wept together as bad news brought them closer together. Varvara was a good singer and the women often asked her to sing for them. Her gentle voice made everyone’s heart peaceful.

  However, there was one very old song that she sang that made everyone sad. I used to sing it with my father and I still sometimes sing it to myself: