On family history, parenting, education, social issues and more
This summer and early fall, I had lots of breakfasts outside; and that’s one of my favorite things to do in summer. No other meal is as good outside as breakfast. And since some of my friends love these outside breakfasts as much as I, and always ask for the pictures, I decided to put together a breakfast retro; now that the outside breakfast season is over.
Enjoy 🙂
I know that at the moment everybody is posting the pictures of fall foliage. And I am not going to be an exception. Everybody has their own “the most amazing fall colors,” and here are mine – from Deer Grove Forest Preserve, the oldest forest preserve in Cook county.
I’ve already mentioned that for the past several weeks, the workload was ginormous. All the efforts were geared towards launching a new product and then making sure everything works as expected.
Launching a new product was a big deal, and in the pre-pandemic times, we would have a big celebration.
Since we are effectively remote these days, with only a very sporadic appearance f people in the office, our leadership team came up with a very special way of celebrating our success. Each of us received a FedEx delivery of a limited edition champaign bottle, and on Friday after work, we had an online event. Our CEO talked about our plans for the rest of the year and the next year, and then people with different business functions talked about their challenges during these weeks.
And after that, we had a remote toast:
Yes, we visited later, but still – the last ones while we still lived there. It should have been still September, but in October, there was no time for pictures.
We were taking a walk at the Peter and Paul Fortress that day. The outdoor pictures were taken by Boris, and the ones inside – by my mom.
This picture was taken at the ADBIS conference in Moscow in September 1996. I do not remember who took it and why, or when I got the print: printing pictures was not instantaneous then. It was the same strange time. I didn’t have a visa yet and was waiting for the second set of documents. I was mentally half gone, but I still didn’t tell anybody. I remember a couple of social activities, but the overall picture of that conference is pretty hazy in my memories.
It was the first time ADBIS had become an international conference, not just a gathering of Russian professors and researchers hanging out with a hadnful Western colleagues. As I had said many times, one part of me was sure I would return in two years because, despite John Roseman’s words, I could not imagine living anywhere except Saint Petersburg.
The other part of me was similarly sure I was leaving for good. All the things I could not forgive my mom for were still raw and hurting, and this other part of me was hoping never to see her again. I didn’t see any way for Boris and me to achieve any stability in our relationships, and this other part of me was thinking that I would start my life fresh, meet some other man, and live happily ever after. I think this was also Pam’s intention: she didn’t know about Boris; on paper, I was a single mother of three, and Val was divorced, and supposedly, we didn’t have anybody else to lean on.
I always have the same thoughts when yet another anniversary of my coming to America is approaching. I think about how little I knew about what the future held.
Today, I was talking to Boris on FaceTime, and at one moment, we stopped talking and just looked at each other. And I felt so strongly how lucky we are to have each other and how much our lives have changed because we have each other—not only the family/personal life but also the professional life and overall what kind of humans we have become.
It’s crazy even to think about this: I would never decide to go to America if I weren’t sure we couldn’t resolve our issues. I am thinking: if my mom and grandpa weren’t both so difficult, and if my mom could secure my grandpa’s apartment after his death, Boris and I would have a place to live. And I would never ever decide to go anywhere. And that apartment was so small and miserable that it would be a miserable life. But I wouldn’t know about it.
And even more horrifying, if we never entered these relationships… We would both live our lives and think that everything is great, and we would be different people (I can see it clearly—what kind of people we would be!).
OK, seasonal thoughts:), and one more night, I am up way later than I planned! I am leaving myself here, on September 15, 1996, and I can’t even imagine how somebody could be as ignorant as I was!
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.
I was in the process of explaining to mom that when I go to Finland, I will have to be on strict quarantine, and I can’t go to the store or take public transportation. And she said: but nobody can tell by looking at you where you came from! I told her that I would not break the rules and that Boris wouldn’t want me.
And then I started to think… With all my not talking about Russian politics, I can’t stop myself from expressing this puzzlement. At the peak of BLM, of looting and arsons, most of my Russian friends who wanted me to explain what’s going on would end up not taking my explanations. Their idea was that any revolt, any protest against any officials, and any authorities are something negative.
That’s one side of the deal. The other is that everybody is up for breaking rules “when nobody sees it.” Breaking regulations is commonplace, it happens often, and nobody cares. Like if there is no police officer with a gun watching each and a single person.
Mom is continually asking me about different things, whether they are allowed or not. And she finds it difficult to understand the concept of “use your own judgment.” But mom is eighty-five, and using your own judgment is not something she was taught at school. And when I see the same attitude from others, I can’t understand that
Yesterday, I went to the haircut, and while there, we talked with my hairdresser about me going to the office, about mask-wearing, and all this nowadays small talk 🙂
And she told me about a client she had a couple of days before. All the time in her chair, he was talking trash about Nancy Pelosi and how hypocritical she is, not wearing a mask while doing a haircut… all that nor wearing a mask himself!
My hairdresser said: I told him, yes, I agree; it is very disrespectful not to wear a mask when you have a haircut. You are putting another person in danger. But, my hairdresser concluded, he didn’t get the message!
I asked her, could she refuse him a service per Governor Pritzker order? And she said: no, we can’t reject any client these days!
I feel very sorry for her because she is a person here who puts her life in danger. And I can’t wrap my head around such behavior!
FOr the past two weeks, from time to time I find Morrison’s campaign materials in my mailbox. I do not know whether his campaign decided to cut on data analyst or what, but my mail looks funny together:
Two days ago, my vote by mail package arrived. I am impressed by the number of languages:)
I am still undecided though whether I wan to vote by mail or vote early.
On Wednesday morning, we submitted one more book chapter. Now we are half-through by the page count, and almost half-through by chapters. If not for the work crisis, which is going on for almost three weeks now, this chapter could be enjoyable. I mean, it was, but not without drama :).
I am very tired, I do not have time for any human activities, but I know that I am doing the right things. Unfortunately, I can’t share publicly most of the work things, but I am confident that I am doing everything the right way/ I just need a second life 🙂
It’s that time of the year when squirrels run around with their tails up, getting food supplies into their nest to help them last through the winter. That’s what I thought of myself when I went to IKEA last Saturday, the first time after it reopened. I ran out of everything and needed to replenish supplies.
Foto, travel, St.Petersburg, Stokholm, Tallin
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