By most standards he was an old man. He died a month short of age 82.
I think, believe, he was a good man. He was my father-in-law named Nikolay. The story is that he was a Don Cossack, from the Kuban. I don't know.
He was buried with a lot of metals. A brown jacket.
The first time I met him, I was kissed. On the lips. That's happened once again. Actually Nikolay's brother-in-law (or maybe another relative-I know, father of the beautiful Katherine). Anyway, I normally can avoid it. I'm American.
He was short. Extremely strong. One finger mostly lost. During the "Great War". The grasp of the hand constricted. It hurt. He reminded me in image of a stouter William Faulkner. Distinguished looking. A handsome man. I knew Faulkner...not. I shook his hand a couple of times. He died when I was 20.
And Nikolay died when I was 63. There is no connection with Mr. Bill at Leslie's Drug Store in Oxford, Mississippi and Nikolay in Galicia, Ukraine. Except, maybe that they both considered themselves patriots.
Nikolay loved Stalin. A few years ago on May 9 I watched TV with Nikolay. His excitement at seeing Stalin was...well...a little annoying. But, for him...reality.
When the new section of Burstyn was being built he was a force. A utility company that now serves Ukraine and also sells electricity to Western Europe created a new section of the town of Burstyn. For a Georgian (person from the state of Georgia, USA) I think of Peachtree City, South of Atlanta, golf courts as a major means of locomotion. Well, of course, Burstyn is not Peachtree City. But, like Peachtree City it was a planned community. And, not a bad idea. I've seen planned Soviet towns, cities before. But Burstyn is different. Darn good. Probably more on that in this magazine.
But, anyway, Nikolay was entitled to a 3-room for his Burstyn work. The good communist chose a 2 room for his 3 daughters and wife Maria. It was duty. Obligation. Devotion.
Consistent. Communist. He never would have conceded God.
This is Western Ukraine, 2006. There is a new, beautiful Orthodox Church.
People now remember religion.
They, many, are damned devout.
And the old communist was buried. After ceremony in the new church. A good Christian burial. He would have hated it.
He fought 6 months. I do not know why. At the time of his death, his appearance was that of one of the Jews condemned to Auschwitz. Maybe 60-70 pounds. So skinny. Bone raw. Totally incontinent. A burden. Why he endured, I know not.
But, he did. He believed in something.
I learned they, the Church, charged 2700 hryvnia for the ceremony. More like ceremonies. In the house. A priest. Nikolay's home, plus 50 years. His face closed with a scarf around his head to hold his mouth shut. Then, another ceremony as they dipped his body 3 times coming out of the door of the house. I have no idea why.
A bored priest. A mad hatter of a priestly woman that seemed more in charge than the bored priest. I don't know who the son-of-a-bitch was that sprayed smoky 'sacraments' as the priest uttered inanities.
Then the truck. A pine box. But well done. And with fake gold fasteners.
A bus. People. We go. He is buried.
More damned ceremony.
I like the fact that the O&C'ers were not the onlies that tended the man. Others, family contributed to the throwing of the dirt.
Nikolay was Russian. Marie, the school teacher, Ukrainian. They say he refused to speak Ukrainian, she the same on Russian. All their lives. I doubt the truth of this.
But they did live together some 50 plus years.
Four ceremonies, exactly as I remember. And the Mad Hatter woman was there, all. Thankfully the bored priest did not come to the dinner. Only the Mad Hatter.
Sorry, forgot to tell. Mad Hatter was in charge of hosannas. She, three other women and two men were a choir. Constantly singing verses, all the same. For some reason, beyond me, most everyone understood. And I'm talking of older people and younger people. How did they know? This is good I think.
A thumb, forefinger and next, when pressed together stands for "God, the Son and the Holy Ghosts". This was done four times.
How did these people know this?
You know...I suspect the old Communist knew too.
And, he would not have respectfully disagreed.
Definitely not respectfully. He'd have been pissed.
In my view, he'd have been wrong. But still a good man.
But he's dead. And Saint Peter has a problem.
Another damned Communist.
And I can talk. It's the old Communist that's dead. Not me.
But, I'm damn certain that that old rugged SOB that kissed my lips would have no part of the goings on that day.
P.S.
As a veteran, the old man's 2700 hryvna is mostly reimbursed by the State. So the Church, the Priest and the Mad Hatter win. Yes?
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