An Introduction

My mind is a tricky thing…I don’t think that the idea of this journal has escaped my mind for more than a couple of hours at a time over the last few days. The purpose, the reason, the design…and what I hope to get out of it.

Hold on -

I would like to modify that last sentence a bit and change the ending to…what I hope my son will get out of it.

Let’s provide a little background here so that the reader will have the chance to understand a bit more about me and what I hope to accomplish here.

I think it was back in the 8^th or 9^th grade when I became fascinated with all things Russian. The country, the people, the politics (Soviet style Communism), the food.

Can’t really give you a reason why. It’s one of those strange infatuations that settle in on people that can never really be explained.

Through high school, I worked at discovering as much as I could about the country,. This was all before the internet and during the cold war so it was a little difficult and a lot of what I was finding was colored with a political brush.

High school years passed and I made my way into college (a military one) and started studying the Russian language. My university had a summer Russian School and an impressive holding of Russian titles and periodicals. I would find every free moment to place myself in the stacks of the Russian collection. There were many nights well past 10:00 that I sat alone in the library flipping through back issues of Soviet Life and Огонёк.

The Library at Norwich University

The desk where I read in the library

A reading room

The old Norwich University Library

The desk in the basement of the old library where I read

In the summer of 1993 I visited Russia. Moscow, Volgograd and Astrakhan. It was one of the highlights of my life.

The obligatory Red Square shot

Russia burned itself deeper into my soul.

I finished college and it was then that I really set my head towards reading, contemplating and thinking about Russian literature. I felt that I could always keep the connection I had made with the country through its literature.

The classic Russian authors were my constant companion through some very difficult years after graduation. I smoked hand rolled cigarettes as I read “One day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich” by Solzhenitsyn. I drank shots of Vodka along with the characters in “Children of the Arbat” by Rybakov. I sat in the cool autumn air…with tears in my eyes as I read “White Nights” by Dostoevsky…wondering if I would every find a love equal to the love read about in that short story. I attempted to understand the inequalities in society through the writings of Gorky and I saw the clearest descriptions of man and his being, written through the works of Tolstoy.

Because of the comfort that this literature has brought me over the years, I wish to introduce these authors to my son.

Why the Russians?

Well, as a group, I know them the best and I am the most comfortable with them. They fill my heart with peace…and that’s good enough for me.

The little guy is scheduled to arrive in early November.

I want to spend as much time as possible with my son…and when I’m with him, I’d like to be reading with him. The Russians have comforted me in the past, and I think that they will do the same for both of us during the difficult and sleepless first months of his life.

Someday, I hope that he’ll stumble across this journal as see some of my thoughts about him during his early days with us. I also hope that it will give him a glimpse into who I am…and for me, a glimpse into who I am as a father.

I want him to love and appreciate books – paper books…old paper books…my books and now, our books.

I want him to love the printed word.

And as the American author Jonathan Franzen has recently stated -

“To me, the point of a novel is to take you to a still place…

To me, the world of books is the quiet alternative, an ever more desperately needed alternative.”

I want him to recognize and appreciate the beauty of this world that these authors can convey. But I’m not so naive as to fail to recognize that with every illustration of beauty, there is its opposite.

The ugliness of this world will be discussed when the age and time deems it appropriate. The Russians I feel present this battle between the good and evil it in a way that explores the real complexities of our world in a classical way…raw and honest – in a way that our world is afraid to confront sometimes.

So, between naps, feedings, diaper changes and crying fits, I want to read and write for him.

Son, I hope you enjoy this little journey.

-Dad.

I had my own Tolstoy - your great grandfather.