{"id":206223,"date":"2022-03-07T12:01:36","date_gmt":"2022-03-07T12:01:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/?p=206223"},"modified":"2022-03-04T03:29:40","modified_gmt":"2022-03-04T03:29:40","slug":"searching-my-roots-in-ukraine-what-i-learned-and-re-learned-in-kiev","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/2022\/03\/searching-my-roots-in-ukraine-what-i-learned-and-re-learned-in-kiev\/","title":{"rendered":"Searching My Roots in Ukraine: What I Learned and Re-learned in Kiev"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cFootfalls echo in the memory\/ Down the passage which we did not take\/ Towards the door we never opened\/ Into the rose-garden.\u201d<\/em>\u00a0 (T. S. Eliot; from, \u201cFour Quartets<\/em>\u201d)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

2 Mar 2022 – <\/em>Recent, shattering world events, have prompted me to check my files to reconsider any past references I\u2019d made to Ukraine.\u00a0 I found a short note to a correspondent\/friend from about 10 years ago:<\/p>\n

\u201cI was there 1 or 2 years before the \u201cMaidan <\/em>[Independence Square] Revolution,\u201d [of 2014] and I liked Kiev very much (my mother’s parents were from there!).\u00a0 A good-looking city\u2026 nice parks, river-views, gold-domed Eastern Orthodox churches.\u00a0 One heard Russian and Ukrainian, and at least during my 10 days-sojourn, I thought it a friendly place, people interacting well.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was there as a copy-editor, a minor, adjunct position in a global organization that tries to do a little good in this world.\u00a0 I was happy to learn, discern, and re-learn; to distill the essential\u2026.<\/p>\n

My interest in Ukraine went back to my pre-teens\u2014an awakening interest in history\u2014general and personal.\u00a0 I finally asked the quietest man I\u2019ve ever known where he had come from.\u00a0 Until my simmering new interest in history, I\u2019d merely assumed that everyone I knew was like me\u2014from New York City\u2014the center of the Universe!<\/p>\n

Of course, I knew there were other places, too\u2014places where children grew into teens and adults and had to leave their homes and loved ones to seek shelter elsewhere.\u00a0 Most of my extended family\u2014the older generations\u2014had been such children in Sicily.<\/p>\n

But\u2026 there was the other side, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you from, Grandpa?\u201d I asked the quietest man.<\/p>\n

And he said, softly: \u201cKiev\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKiev,\u201d I repeated, just as softly.\u00a0 (I had never heard of it!)\u00a0 I looked at my mother–who had never mentioned it\u2014someone whom I knew, for sure, had been born and raised, like most people I knew, in Brooklyn, New York!<\/p>\n

My mother, too, could be quiet, self-contained.\u00a0 I\u2019d have to advance into my teens before I understood how some people don\u2019t like to talk about painful subjects.<\/p>\n

She kept a framed picture of a beautiful woman on a bureau of drawers, next to a photo of her father as a younger man, and next to my father\u2019s picture of his elderly parents.\u00a0 My father\u2019s parents were gone when I was still a giggling, dribbling baby.\u00a0 My mother\u2019s mother died from cancer at 34\u2014long before my premiere appearance.\u00a0 My mother was 14 when her mother died.\u00a0 I\u2019ve no doubt that my grandmother\u2019s passing changed my mother\u2019s life–her personality–forever after.\u00a0 Childhood traumas change us all.\u00a0 Not just children, of course\u2026.\u00a0 No doubt, watching his wife die so young, in \u201cthe land of the free,\u201d drove my grandfather deeply into his wounds, into his inner world\u2026.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Maidan Square, Kiev<\/p><\/div>\n

What do most Americans know about Ukraine?\u00a0 What do we know about History?<\/p>\n

We are spoon-fed propaganda from the earliest grades.\u00a0 In my generation, any class activity could be interrupted any moment with the voice of the principal, booming out of the P.A. box: \u201cTake Cover!\u201d<\/p>\n

And then, 25-30 children and pre-teens would dive under our wooden desks. \u00a0Covering our heads with our hands, we averted our eyes from soon-to-be smashed windows which the Russian A-bombs would obliterate along with us and everyone we knew!\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 After 5 minutes or so, the alarm would signal the \u201call clear,\u201d and we could emerge, happy to survive yet another day in \u201cthe home of the brave.\u201d<\/p>\n

Through some quirk of nature, I saw through the charades sooner than most.\u00a0 Around the fourth grade, I figured I could just mime the words to the \u201cPledge of Allegiance\u201d and the other kids would drown out my silence.\u00a0 So, hand over my heart, I mimed, looked earnest\u2026and the teacher never knew\u2026.<\/p>\n

Still wondering about the world that I was ill-prepared to enter, I lived through the \u201cCuban Missile Crisis.\u201d\u00a0 Nobody talks about that now, but for a dozen days or so, we truly believed we were on the verge of nuclear extermination\u2014verily, the \u201cwar to end all wars.\u201d \u00a0The war to end \u201cpeace,\u201d and everything else besides\u2026.<\/p>\n

\u201cLife\u2019s but a walking shadow,\u201d Shakespeare mused:<\/p>\n

\u201cA poor player that struts and frets his hour<\/em>
\nUpon the stage, and then is heard no more.<\/em>
\nIt is a tale told by an idiot\u2014<\/em>
\nFull of sound and fury, signifying nothing\u2026.\u201d<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Yes, it can be that way!\u00a0 Especially in our age of mass-media, with \u201cmemes\u201d substituting for thoughts, dialectical strutting in place of dialogical exploring.<\/p>\n

In my 40s, I was at a writers\u2019 conference in Connecticut, with dramatic presentations of works in progress.\u00a0 I met a man associated with the Academy there: a tall, robust fellow, introducing himself as Ukrainian.\u00a0 \u201cSo am I!\u201d I proudly proclaimed.\u00a0 And, we became friends\u2026 briefly.<\/p>\n

The next day, he asked if I were \u201cGreek Orthodox,\u201d and I explained that I was not attached to any religion, open to various religious, philosophical and spiritual beliefs.\u00a0 I mentioned that my father had been raised as a Roman Catholic (but, he, too, was a free-thinker) and my mother might, if pressed, classify herself as a \u201creformed Jew.\u201d\u00a0 On the last word, my almost-friend frowned, excused himself from the table\u2026and that was the end of that\u2026.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Renowned Ukrainian folk artist Maria Prymachen, whose museum in Kiev–built in her honor,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 housing many splendid examples of her na\u00efve and fanciful work, was bombed and incinerated during the Russian invasion of February, 2022.<\/p><\/div>\n

What do we know of Ukraine?<\/p>\n

My Socialist friends, and former friends, abide in their belief that Russia saved the world from \u201cHitlerism.\u201d\u00a0 They forget, or do not know, about the Kulaks.<\/p>\n

There were two terrible holocausts in the 1930s and 1940s.\u00a0 The first one, in the \u201830s, occurred when Stalin imposed his maniacal policies against independent, prosperous farmers in Ukraine\u2014the \u201cKulaks.\u201d\u00a0 The dictator was determined to show the world the success of his 5-year plans; determined, as well, to get any independent-minded \u201cfree-thinkers\u201d to tow-the-line.<\/p>\n

So, he told the farmers how to farm their land, taxed their waning yields to extinction, had the KGB arrest the dissonant, and within a year, the \u201cbreadbasket of Europe\u201d was a wasteland (emulating the British-instigated Irish potato famine of 90 years before!).\u00a0 Three million children died of starvation, along with four million adults.\u00a0 That was the first holocaust of the 20th<\/sup> Century, soon followed by the Jewish holocaust; followed by the 3-day holocaust of Hiroshima and Nagasaki\u2026.<\/p>\n

Is it not extraordinary?\u00a0 76 years after August, 1945, we have not eliminated the threat of nuclear war!\u00a0 Nearly 8 billion of us\u2014better connected than ever, sharing a shrinking planet\u2014beautiful, fragile and endangered\u2026but, do we wonder enough: What are we bequeathing the children\u2026and our children\u2019s children?<\/p>\n

Who is in control?\u00a0 How do we deem ourselves \u201cfree and independent\u201d when we have surrendered autonomy and agency?<\/p>\n

How little we know about each other\u2026and ourselves\u2026.<\/p>\n

I walked to the top of a hill and looked down on the Dnieper River\u2014one of Europe\u2019s major waterways.<\/p>\n

From my perch in a green hilltop park, I watched couples and families saunter and converse, children play, as young men and women glided by on roller skates\u2014all full of life and zest, and the promise of life to be fulfilled.<\/p>\n

I saw the water of the Dnieper sparkle, and the sun sparkle on the golden domes of churches, far and wide.<\/p>\n

I had entered one of those churches the day before, surprised that there was no guard, no attendant to question me, to bar my entry.\u00a0 The interior was dimly lit, with light filtered through stained-glass windows.\u00a0 I stood in the back, in the shadows of a corner, admiring and imbibing the serenity.<\/p>\n

I remembered when my Aunt Sadie had taken me to a Christmas Mass at a Roman Catholic church in Staten Island\u2014my first, and last, such Mass\u2026.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t understand the Latin, of course, and soon my little bones grew tired of all the standing and sitting\u2026.\u00a0 But, as my aunt prayed, I thought that I saw her as I had never seen her, with inner light…and she was beautiful.<\/p>\n

A young woman entered the church in Kiev.\u00a0 In another corner, she lit a votary candle, knelt and prayed.\u00a0 I couldn\u2019t see her face.\u00a0 I felt her peace, and I left quietly\u2026.<\/p>\n

On the weekend, traffic was diverted from the main boulevard.\u00a0 Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people would meet on the street and sidewalks, congregate at little shelters to see the work of local artists\u2014to question and admire, to bargain and purchase.\u00a0 There were musicians, too, and couples danced in the street, and children danced and frolicked, being children.<\/p>\n

The day I was leaving, I stood in the square in front of the hotel, near yet another church.\u00a0 An older woman approached me and started talking to me as though she knew me.<\/p>\n

And, somehow, though we couldn\u2019t understand a word the other spoke, I felt that I knew her.<\/p>\n

She wanted to give me something\u2026but\u2026 I didn\u2019t know her\u2026.<\/p>\n

She held out her hand, and took my hand, and gently pressed a St. Christopher medal in my palm.\u00a0 But, how did she know I would be traveling that day?<\/p>\n

And I thought: her relatives might have known my relatives\u2014long ago, when they were children.\u00a0 They played together, and explored together.\u00a0 Perhaps my grandparents had delighted her grandparents; my quiet grandfather had been less quiet then, when the world reverberated with the laughter of children.<\/p>\n

How can we free the children within us?\u00a0 Jew and Gentile, Palestinian and Israeli, Muslim and Hindu, Black and White, Yellow, Red and Brown\u2014are we not more alike than different?\u00a0 Shall we learn racial \u201ctheories\u201d as we grow older; or shall we learn to dance with one another, tell jokes, play games, share the enlightenment of Art and Music and wonder?<\/p>\n

Where are the leaders to lead us out of the wilderness of prejudice and fears?\u00a0 Is it too late?\u00a0 Where are the teachers and explorers?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

\u201cLOVE\u201d by Ukrainian artist Alexander Milov.\u00a0 The child in one adult reaches out to the child in another adult.<\/p><\/div>\n

Can we cultivate such connections?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

A painting by Ukrainian folk artist Maria Prymachen, whose museum in Kiev, built in her honor, was bombed and incinerated during the Russian invasion of February, 2022.<\/p><\/div>\n

\u00a0\u201cFarewell the tranquil mind!\u00a0 Farewell content!<\/em>
\nFarewell the plumed troops and the big wars<\/em>
\nThat make ambition virtue!\u201d<\/em>
\n\u00a0<\/em>–William Shakespeare<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\u00a0<\/em>________________________________________<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a> Gary Steven Corseri\u00a0is a member of the\u00a0<\/em>TRANSCEND Network for Peace Development Environment.<\/em><\/strong><\/a>\u00a0 He is the grandson of Ukrainian-Jewish and Sicilian-Catholic immigrants.\u00a0 Gary has performed his poems at the Carter Presidential Library and his dramas have been produced on\u00a0<\/em>PBS-Atlanta and in universities, high schools and Little Theaters.\u00a0 He has published 2 novels, 1 full collection and 1 prize-winning chapbook of poems.\u00a0 His poems, articles, fiction and dramas have appeared in hundreds of global publications & websites, including:\u00a0 <\/em>Countercurrents, Village Voice, Redbook Magazine, The Miami Herald, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The New York Times,\u00a0and\u00a0<\/em>Transcend Media Service<\/strong><\/a>.\u00a0 He has taught at universities in the U.S. and Japan, and in US prisons and public schools.\u00a0 He has worked as a grape-picker in Australia, a gas-station attendant, and an editor. Contact:\u00a0<\/em>garyscorseri@gmail.com<\/em><\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

76 years after August, 1945, we have not eliminated the threat of nuclear war! Nearly 8 billion of us better connected than ever, sharing a shrinking planet–beautiful, fragile and endangered. Who is in control? How do we deem ourselves ‘free and independent’ when we have surrendered autonomy and agency?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":171062,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[40],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-206223","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-transcend-members"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/206223","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=206223"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/206223\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/171062"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=206223"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=206223"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=206223"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}