Author: Hettie D.

My name is Henrietta (Hettie) Dombrovskaya. I was born in Saint-Petersburg, Russian (actually, back then – Leningrad, USSR) in 1963, and immigrated to the United States in 1996. I love Saint Petersburg, the city I was born and raised in, and I think it’s one of the most beautiful places in the world. Similarly (but differently) I love Chicago, and can’t imagine myself moving somewhere else in the observable future. I have three children, Igor, Vlad and Anna, all adults living on their own, and one (so far) granddaughter Nadia. I also believe that my children are the best thing that happened in my life. As for my professional life, I am working in the field of Information Technologies. When I was twenty, I’ve declared that the databases are the coolest thing invented and that I want to do them for the rest of my life. Thirty plus years later, I still believe it’s true, and still, believe that the databases are the best. These two statements together imply that I think a person can have it all, and indeed, I think so! Keep reading my journals to find out how I did it.

Cultural Events From The Front Row

I have a lot of subscriptions this season; most of them are together with my neighbor, and this week is the first week when things really started.

After the Symphony ball last Saturday, there was the first of our regular subscription concerts, with Ricardo Muti conducting Stravinsky, Liadov, and Brams. There are several new young musicians in the orchestra, and my and my friend could not take our eyes away from a very young violinist who was visibly ecstatic being on the CSO stage and was eagerly following the maestro’s directions, beaming.

Since we both agreed that we prefer the close to the stage seating even if the view is a little bit obscured, we have no problem finding the tickets to our satisfaction. Today was our first Opera, Wagner’s Flying Dutchman. If was the first time that I discovered that the Opera House has the same pricing strategy, and the side seats close to the stage cost the same as the rear main floor. We sat unbelievably close like I never was that close to the stage at any opera. We could see the singers’ facial expressions (as clear as in the videos below), and we could read English captioning with no problem.

The 2 hours and 20 minutes opera ran without intermission, so I was a little bit unsure whether we would survive, but the music was so captivating, and the performers were so engaging that I didn’t even notice where the time went! I never heard this opera before, not even in the recording, and I enjoyed it immensely.

Since I promised one of my followers that I would tell all about the opera set and costumes, here is my report. The set was innovative but not extravagant (in fact, the video about the lighting provides good shots of the set). The way they represented both ships with one was very clever. The costumes were “historically neutral,” probably close to the end of the nineteenth century, so they were not distracting the audience from the music. We loved it!

Mom’s Medical

Yesterday was my mom’s regular doctor’s visit. The day before, when I was at her place and submitted the request for the SSI application, she said that “she has a disability.” That was news to me because she never mentioned that she had anything that would classify her as a disabled person. She said, however, that she has a paper from her doctor in Russia about that.

I asked her to find this paper and to bring it with her to the doctor’s office. When we came to the office and sat down there waiting to be called, she showed me the papers. It was something incredibly weird, and now that I am thinking about it, I believe that she mentioned it a long while ago – I just didn’t pay attention. These papers didn’t contain any diagnosis; instead, the paper said that she has a “general illness,” which causes her “disability of the third degree” – the least one, that allowed a person to work. The form was hand-filled and had some official seals but no supporting documents. I told her that I had no idea what it meant and that nothing like this would be considered as a reason for disability benefits. Then she became very upset and started her usual spill in an elevated tone about how when my friend Irina was alive, she could ask her anything about her medical conditions, and Irina would reply, and now that Irina passed away there is nobody whom she can ask, and all the rest what she usually says in this case.

Further in the conversation, I learned that she had fallen down in the bathroom the other day, and her elbow was bleeding, and it took her a while to get out of it. When I brought up the topic of having some help, she told me she did not need any and could do everything at home by herself.
The subsequent conversation with the doctor was somehow more optimistic. I think that’s because the doctor “saw it all,” and she reassured me that “everything is typical,” and it’s great that my mom started using her cane when she goes to the bathroom at night. After this conversation, I realized there was no way I could prevent all the accidents that could happen with my mom, and I just needed to accept it and not stress out either her or me. Another good thing is that although mom’s doctor is moving to another clinic, it’s not as far as I thought, and mom will still be able to see her.

Vlad & Dylon Wedding Photos – 3

Before I forget!

Continue reading “Vlad & Dylon Wedding Photos – 3” →

This Weekend

it was, in some sense, a “getting my life back” weekend, although I guess one weekend is not enough at the moment. I had a chance to have breakfast outside, which didn’t happen much this summer.

I biked a lot, although since the sun is not out until 6-45AM, I could not do a really long bike ride.

I went to the CSO Symphony Ball for the first time in my life. It’s not like I do not go to fundraising events, but if I go, it’s for more socially-oriented events. I think there are enough well-off people who would be happy to fundraise for CSO and other cultural institutions.

This year, I received two free tickets to the Symphony Ball for participating in the CSO for Kids Ambassadors program. I didn’t expect it :), and I am not going to lie, it was nice! I took my mom there, and because of that, I skipped a pre-concert champagne toast: I knew that mom wouldn’t be comfortable there, and also, I also wanted to make sure she ate something before we went.

The concert was amazing, and also it was a spectacular view of women in evening gowns and men in tails and white ties.

Other than that, it was mostly finishing writing multiple things I had to write or promised to write and planning my cultural activities for the next two months. Also, I baked an experimental version of my favorite blueberry pie, using strained skyr on place of rahka, and this is much better than using ricotta)

And now – diving into the new work week.

Refugees

Today, I went to the Budlong Woods branch of Chicago Public Library to listed to the talk about the history and mission of RefugeeOne – the charity which helps refugees to resettle.

A huge portion of this talk was about the definition of who are refugees and who are asylum seekers (and I have to admit, I didn’t know that these worlds have precise UN definitions).

I didn’t know how long people usually stay in the refugee camps until they are resettled – can you believe it’s seventeen years on average?! Also, I had no idea about how many displaced people are there in the world – the picture below provides 2021 numbers, before the war in Ukraine, and as of now, the estimates are over 100 million, including internal displacement.

Even when the refugees ae resettled, have an apartment to live in, and help to become independent and self-sufficient, it still takes a huge effort, and that’s what RefugeeOne is doing.

They are calling for volunteers who follow the newly arriving families for the first six months, “holding their hands.” That’s something I was already thinking about last year, and I have to say that, unfortunately, I can’t make that sort of commitment, at least for now. But I will keep it in mind for the future.

How This Week Goes

Monday: Work + taking mom to the DHS

Tuesday: Work + hosting Chicago PostgreSQL User Group after work

Wednesday: Work + discussion on our book + recording a session for P99 conference + dinner with a co-worker visiting from Texas + three-and-a-half hours long show, not especially interesting, and a very cold venue, but it was a part of the subscription, and I was there with my neighbor, so no way out

Thursday: Work + volunteering in the youth shelter

Friday (projected): Work + dinner with the same co-worker.

And “work” this week is twice as intense as usual; not like I have it light any other week. But this week, we want to do as much as possible with my visiting co-worker, so we discuss things and work on documentation. Also, this week happens to be high on customer communications and explaining what I am doing :), and convincing them that I am not their enemy :).
And our dinners are also full of work discussions because we do not have enough time at work to discuss everything we want to discuss.

If I Only Be Allowed…

…to take pictures at the Rogers Park Metra Station every morning, capturing an amazing group of beautiful people from all walks of life, ethnic origins, social backgrounds, and whatever other category you can name! Every morning is a celebration of diversity.

SNAP

Our visit to DHS today ended with unexpected success: my mom got SNAP. We spent about an hour and a half there, and she got an emergency approval and the actual LINK card, and she will have money on the card by Wednesday. I set up a pin for her, and we are good to go.

The less exciting part is that we will need to go to the SSA office to apply for the SSI (which we did once – unsuccessfully, but there should not be any issues now). Just another time-consuming thing. And only after we apply for SSI she should be able to apply for subsidized housing. This being said, I do not know when this all will end, but I am really happy with today’s results.

After-School Activities

Thinking about most of my schooling years, I am retrospectively surprised by how little of the cultural events were there. There was almost nothing going on after school. In the third grade, I started to take piano lessons, which our school music teacher was giving. There was one 15-minute lesson a week for the price of 5 rubles (I was giving the money to the teacher at the beginning of each lesson). I neither liked nor disliked it. I thought the girls who played piano were cool, and I wanted to do the same. Nobody forced me to do piano, so it sort of went on until the eighth grade when I didn’t have enough time to do this and stopped. I didn’t play any sports, and I didn’t have any other extracurricular activities until I started to attend theater classes at the nearby House of Culture when I was already in the fifth grade.

I liked reciting poetry, and I was good at it – I still had an excellent memory and didn’t have a problem memorizing long poems and stories, and I enjoyed reciting all these pieces “expressively.” Like many other girls, I wanted to be on stage, but the teacher in the theater class wanted me to do storytelling – he thought I was better at that. Recalling the details, I believe he was a very good teacher, and he took the kids seriously. The core of the class was several extremely talented boys, and it was apparent to me that I was no match, not even close. In contrast to most of the amateur theatrical groups, our’s was constantly looking for talented girls rather than boys, with very intermittent luck.

These classes were no joke. Our teacher spent time with me one-on-one, going through the text. The first time I would start a new story, I had to copy it into my notebook and highlight the most important word in each sentence (and to be ready to explain why this is the most important word). Then, we would go through the text countless times. He said that this stage was not a creative stage but “craftsmanship.” Only after I passed this stage and learned the whole text by heart was I allowed to start adding emotions and other creative elements. I still remember that my best reward was when I saw my teacher laughing after I finished a humorous story at one of the concerts.

All of this, however, was happening in middle school. All the classes were free, and I went to the House of Culture and signed myself up – no parent’s content was required. As for elementary school (from first to third grade), there was nothing for me except for reading after school. Activities like going to museums or theatrical performances were extremely rare. The only “children’s” theaters were two puppet theaters (and it was hard to get tickets for these performances). Museums didn’t have any children’s studios or any kid-centered activities, and things like “children’s museums” didn’t exist. That’s for all this “most cultural nation”…

Most of the weekends (actually, Sundays only, since we had school on Saturdays) included sleeping in, going for some city walks, and almost obligatory visits to my grandfather. As I mentioned earlier, the apartment where my grandfather lived was very far from the city center. It was hard to believe that it was considered to be “within city limits.” The were multiple ways to get there, none straightforward, and all taking about one and a half hours each way. I can’t believe how much time was wasted so reproductively; I didn’t even read on the tram.

My grandfather, with his niece Tamara, who came to visit him from Beslan.

My historical posts are being published in random order. Please refer to the page Hettie’s timeline to find where exactly each post belongs and what was before and after.

“Our Body” Documentary

I am just out of the screening of this movie. I really wanted to see it, and it was very difficult to fit it into my schedule (it’s three hours long!) The only way of doing it was to rush there directly from the train from Milauwakee, which I did. It’s not what I thought it would be, way more difficult to watch than I thought, and way more powerful.

I am not even sure what my takeaways are, except for “It’s hard to be a woman.” It’s almost unbearable to watch at some moments (I could not look at the screen for at least a quarter of the duration of the movie).

And another surprising fact: while following all these women at the most difficult moments of their lives and thinking about what I, as a woman, was through, I felt jealous: I was never treated with such respect by the doctors as these women were. I might have experienced only a small portion of all the physical suffering these women were through, but the humiliation and disrespect I had to live through were unimaginable. I am so glad that my daughter didn’t have to go through it, and my granddaughters won’t even know how bad it could be.