Boomerang of Happiness - 1
In the late 1980s, Alex was a promising young Soviet engineer and inventor gifted with a special ability to clearly see and predict where the communication technologies would move in the future. He was one of those rare types whom nature generously gave everything: looks, smarts, and kindness of heart. Alex was about 5’9”, had an athletic body thanks to his passion for volleyball, swimming and biking, wavy black hair that he always wore short, and deep hazel eyes. Thanks to his good nature, Alex had a lot of friends who always wanted him at their parties because he played a guitar and had a great singing voice. In short, everyone loved him and he had great prospects for his future.
If Only Pear Could Talk
A big beautiful spreading pear proudly stood in the middle of the family backyard. It was not the only fruit tree there, there were also apple, mulberry and tart cherry trees. It was not the oldest in the family’s little orchard, that would be the two mulberries, but the pear tree was the biggest and obviously the most valuable as it sat right in the center, providing shade for a big part of the backyard. It had been planted by the patriarch of the family, a father of two girls at the time, in 1951, to celebrate finishing the construction of the main house on his little farm. In more than 40 years of its existence, the pear tree saw a lot of the family life and the way the village changed.
Charging Bull and Fearless Girl
It was only at night that the Charging Bull could get some rest from the crowds. He didn’t mind people, as they were coming from all over the world to see him, and he liked listening to them chatter in different languages. But he did get tired of them rubbing his private parts for luck. And lining up to do so, on his both ends: To take a picture with his face and to rub his balls. The night brought some relief, even though there were still some late-night wanderers approaching him, at least it was not a constant stream of people.
No Hope for Hope
August 8 is a sad date for me. On that day in 2000, our family friend with a beautiful name Nadezhda (meaning “Hope” in Russian) died a horrible and slow death. Five axe-cut wounds to the arms, chest, left shoulder, and a final blow to the neck from the back that broke her spine. The investigators said she was probably running around the house wounded trying to shield her two kids with her body. The murderer was more merciful to the kids, killing each of them with one hard blow to the head with the blunt end of the axe. The police never established if he killed the kids after Nadezhda or made her watch them die. According to the neighbors, who heard the screams and cries (no one came to help, but someone did call the police which was too late to arrive), the whole crime took about 30 minutes. Half an hour of horrible pain and agony for Nadezhda.
Knitting Is my Solace
I was a hyperactive child before the word "hyperactive" became a part of the everyday vocabulary. I also had a hyperactive best friend who I knew since we both were three. Together, we were a force of mischief and source of trouble for our parents. I can’t recall how many times our parents were summoned to the kindergarten and school because we always got ourselves into trouble climbing fences and trees, running away and playing outside into deep night when our parents gathered search parties for us. We both were doing very well at school, acing all subjects. "Such smart girls," our teachers would say to our parents, "studies come too easy for them and that’s probably why they get into so much trouble. Too much time on their hands. If only they could put their energy into something useful.”