Ukrainian Holiday Memories

  "Do you have a holiday memory or reflection you are willing to share?"  The email was inviting  me to prepare a talk for the weekly gathering of the Lake Chapala Unitarian Universalist  Fellowship (LCUUF). 
Immediately, I thought of my time in Ukraine as a peace Corps Volunteer.  I have  so many memories.  What a great chance to reflect and share.  So I got to work and began crafting my talk.  

LCUUF during a Social Justice public demonstration

LCUUF characterizes itself as, ..."brave, curious, and compassionate thinkers and doers. We are diverse in faith, ethnicity, history and spirituality, but aligned in our desire to make a difference for the good. We have a track record of standing on the side of love, justice and peace."

I presented my talk on December 18th, 2022.  And with their encouragement, I’m posting it here. The text is below and at the end there’s a link for a video presentation. I hope it's meaningful to you.  

                                        _______________________________

After 40 years working with social change organizations, I retired from AARP and joined the US Peace Corps. I went to Ukraine. What an adventure. 

 Now come with me as I recall holiday memories from Ukrainian and reflect on their meaning.

Resourceful & Courageous Mothers

I’m working with mothers in a new nonprofit. It’s called Hearts of Love. Their mission is to change the way disabled children - their disabled children – are treated. During Soviet times, they were shunned. Why? Because they didn’t fit the Soviet ideal of strong healthy comrades. They were the flawed ones. Kept at home and out of sight. No special services. No playground activities, No friends. Nothing.

But when the Soviet system crumbled, a group of courageous and resourceful mothers said, “Nyet, No more.” They created the Hearts of Love Center. Regardless of disability – physical, emotional or mental – children were welcomed. They were coming out of the closet and into the light of day.   

Hearts Of Love Center

It’s Friday. That means Art Day at the Hearts of Love Center. It’s become a popular activity to paint with the American. That would be me.

Since the holidays are approaching, I make a huge Christmas tree by taping together blocks of copy paper and painting branches. I explain, with some help from my interpreter, that our art project is to decorate this holiday tree.

All ages and levels of ability soon get busy. Some children draw with careful details. Others are mostly scribbling. No matter, all are handmade and all will adorn our tree.

I tell my young artists, “Your art is unique. Claim it with your name. When you sign your name, you’re telling the world, I made this….LOOK!”

One boy with a muscular palsy surprises me. Instead of his usual scribbles, I see him concentrating with all of his attention. Slowly he produces a design. Wow!

Proudly, he shows it to me. I dig deep into my language learning for the right Russian words to say - Otlichnaya Rabota! Otlichnaya Rabota! Good Job. We both smile.

As I put away art supplies, a little girl bursts into the room. “Chi, Chi !” she insists. Time for tea. I follow her to where a party is being laid out.

Birthday Girl

No Styrofoam here. China cups and plates encircle the table with pots of peppermint tea. It’s the little girl’s Birthday. She’s 8 years old. Her mother has brought in a small cake. It’s a very special treat.

As we settle around the table, a wonderful Ukrainian ritual is repeated. People begin sharing birthday wishes. These are not quick clichés like those printed on a Hallmark card. No, the people share stories - intimate stories about a person’s character, talents and goodness.

Each person takes time to tell their story. No hurry when you’re celebrating a birthday. I love the way Ukrainians are not embarrassed to express kindness. It’s a lesson to copy.

I look at the little girl. She’s wearing a red dress. Red is considered a most beautiful color in Ukraine. This little girl is so sweet and beautiful.

The Birthday Ritual continues. Gentle words of appreciation accumulate like dozens of gifts – but only more valuable. I am touched when her older brother speaks. I don’t know all his words, but I understand his tone and body language. He admires and loves his little sister so much. We all should be so blessed.

Soon it will be New Years. For Ukrainians this holiday is more like our American Christmas, but without all the commercial excess. It’s family time centered around a shared meal. I’m honored to be invited into this family

A whole roasted chicken

We’re gathering at Babushka’s home. Like most Ukrainian celebrations, the living room has been rearranged to accommodate the generations. A grand daughter is so excited to show me the table with food laid out. She especially wants me to see and take notice of “an entire roasted chicken.” I smile and do take notice.

But then...I wonder why does she seem to cherish it so much? Could there be deeper significance - “an entire roasted chicken?”

I believe all people carry collective memories. I learned during Peace Corps training that food shortages are a Ukrainian memory. When the Soviet empire collapsed there were long lines at markets. During the World Wars, Ukraine was the landscape of countless battles. The fertile farm land was scorched over and over again and families were left to sift through ashes.

And even more, Ukrainians endured the Holodomor. Holodomor? Have you heard about it? Like most westerners, I didn’t know. I was ignorant.

Holodomor is a Ukrainian word for death by forced starvation.

In the early 1930s, Stalin targeted opposition for extinction, especially in the rural farming communities. As a result about 6 million men, women and children were slowly killed - starved to death in a man-made famine engineered by this totalitarian regime.

Amazingly, we remember the Holocaust, lest we forget, but shame on us.  The Holodomor is mostly forgotten. Yet among Ukrainians...they never forget.

So maybe, there is a deeper significance in collective memory - a whole roasted chicken

We begin our New Years meal. And the first of many toasts is made. Toasting has a rich heritage going back to Cossack times. Each one is offered with eloquent words, a heartfelt speech and a shot of Vodka, of course.

My family shares five rounds of toasting. First and second rounds are to welcome everyone and honor our friendship together. The third to honor women. The forth to honor men. The fifth is to give Glory to Ukraine. There can be more, but often five shots of vodka is enough. Don't you think?

As we celebrate, a Surprise bursts into the room.

Surprise!

A bouquet of balloons is brought to the table. The granddaughters have inserted poetic best wishes into each balloon. Everyone selects one and squeezes it until it explodes. With a loud bang, out pops a truly hand-made blessing.  What a splendid activity. It costs next to nothing, but is filled with warm regard and love. So simple and thoughtful and lots of fun too.

Annya, an older granddaughter gives me a handmade card. I think she composed the kind message inside. I read it…

Jud & Annya

We wish you health...so you may enjoy each day in comfort.

We wish you love of friends and family...and piece (sic) within hearts.

We wish you beauty of nature ...that you may enjoy the work of God.

We wish you wisdom to choose priorities...for those things that really matter in life.  

We wish you generosity so you may share....all the good things that come to you.

We wish you happiness and joy...and blessings for the New Year.

We wish you the best of everything that you so well deserve.

As I leave this loving home, it begins to lightly snow. Nostalgia drifts into my mind and heart.   I remember home, family, and friends. Many memories from America and now more are here in Ukraine. It's a Wonderful Life….

May you too be blessed during this holiday season and cherish the deeper significance of your memories.

Link for the LCUUF Service 12/18/2022

ANOTHER ADVENTURE - SRI LANKA and VIETNAM

I’m not OCD or at least I don’t think so.  But there are times when a good list can help.  This is one of those times.

This 74 year old is going on a Far-East Odyssey to Sri Lanka and then on to Hanoi, Vietnam.  My niece Jenny and her family recently relocated to Sri Lanka and I’m taking advantage of this family connection to visit.  

If you’re like me, you may not be clear about the location of Sri Lanka.  It’s an island Country. It’s beyond the Mediterranean Sea, beyond the Middle East and sits on the point of India nearly on the equator. It’s halfway around the world from Washington, DC. 

Please take a moment to learn more.

With my list in hand, I’m getting organized.  Clothing folded. Shoes and sandals. Check. Electronics categorized and art supplies readied.  Check again. Do I have too much…not enough? What’s missing? It’s the usual self-doubt I get before a new adventure.  

And then taking a break, I begin thinking.…

Why do I welcome adventures? Often people who read my Blog ask me this question. I wonder why...

Since retiring, there’s been Peace Corps service...twice, teaching English in Mexico and lots of travel in Europe, the Balkans, Alaska, Japan as well as numerous trips to visit my grand-kids and their wonderful parents. 

Indeed, I've developed a proclivity for adventure.

It’s not always been like that.  I come from an ordinary American family.  My parents lived in the same community all their lives. But we children moved away from coast to coast and in-between.

We have our love for one another as well as our dysfunctions.  And for me early on, life threw a big challenge.

As an 11 year old, I struggled with a dislocated hip that needed to be pinned back into place. Healing took a long time. It required three years on crutches just as I was entering Junior High.

Yikes. No fun. In a way, I felt like a cripple and I was.

Even when I got fixed, the negative self-image lingered.  Like a lot of kids, if not many, I stumbled through teen years.

Of course, what you face as a teen is not necessarily what you can become.  Out of feeling broken, I developed empathy for the marginalized in society.

No wonder, I joined the War on Poverty and served in the barrios of El Paso Texas.  I found meaning and purpose.

I was drawn to Seminary during a time for social change. I read Liberation Theology, learned about the biblical roots for the “Social Gospel” and discovered Saul Alinsky as my hero for community organizing.  

Seminary in the 60s was a place for free and challenging thinking.  I was growing and beginning to find myself.

Along the way, I picked up self-help books because I didn’t want to get stuck.  

A book entitled, The Artist Way, was most valuable.  It provided a structure of “Morning Pages” to dialogue with myself.  It encouraged wholeness, creativity and spirituality in all aspects of living.

Each morning I wrote 3 pages of free association - whatever came to mind.  Soon I was discovering hidden facets of my personality.  I was coming out to my strengths and dealing with weaknesses.  

I discovered a very active self-critic – an internal voice that’s quite good at limiting life.  

The critic says,  “NO, NO! You’ve never done that before.  You’re not capable. You’ll probably fail” and so forth.  I was accumulating a lot of hesitancy and regret.

But slowly I managed to quiet the negativity. I overcame fears and discovered the wonders of stepping "outside the box" - a cliche for sure, but not without its truth.

Taming the critic meant saying, “YES, this is going to be an adventure.  I don’t know what will happen, but it’ll be an experience not to miss.”  I found myself becoming less “risk averse” and more empowered.

A dear friend introduced me to Mind Mapping as a tool for more self discovery. I used it to clarify "what I really wanted" in living. Now I'll turn to it when I'm feeling stuck and want to move on.

You might want to give it a try.
Learn more about Mind Mapping here.

So here I am again. I'm on a plane and this time to Sri Lanka.  I’ve been on row 31F for a night and half-a-day.  It’s a long long trip.

Out the window, dawn is breaking over Dubai complete with a morning star. Beautiful.   

I begin imaging...

Opportunities for meeting locals, discovering the culture of a new country and welcoming the adventures of each new day.  All of this and more awaits me.

I smile to myself. This 74 year old is doing it and I've got a pretty good list to show for it....

A WAKE-UP EXPLOSION

It’s 5:00 am and I’m in a deep peaceful sleep.

Suddenly, a volley of explosions pierce my dreams. I look up at the skylight above my bed. Flashes of light cut through the early morning darkness. Each explosion, in rapid succession, startles. and yes, scares me.

My mind searches for explanations. What’s happening? A snippet of the Star Spangle Banner - “the bombs bursting in air.” brings an uneasy feeling. 

Each blast is so loud and direct. I feel vibrations across my skin. Is this what an invasion feels like?

I live about a half block from the Church.  Its tower houses several levels of bells ...all sizes.  

In the midst of the explosions, they start clanging  their cacophony demanding attention. 

I peek out my window. But all I see are a few early morning risers strolling down the narrow street oblivious of the sound and furry.

Puzzling….Explosions and church bells in the pre-dawn of Ajijic, Mexico.

Later, I learn that the hullabaloo marks the beginning of a month long celebration. October is a month devoted to Our Lady of the Rosary. 

La Virgin del Rosario is represented by a small antique statue of Mary holding baby Jesus. Here in Ajijic, she occupies a special chapel on the edge of the Main Plaza.

But during October, she goes traveling.  

Strong shoulders carry her into the neighboring town of San Antonio Tlayacapan and then the various parishes around Ajijic. 

 Wherever she goes, the faithful follow.  While only a statue, she's engaging the people.

Each dawn at 5 am, a blast of skyrockets and bells call people to mass.  

I know because it's becoming a kind of jarring alarm for me. I glance at my clock...”Yup, it’s 5:00 am.” Damn or is there more….?

I’m told that the skyrockets have a double meaning. 

For sure they wake up people, but it’s said that they also alert the angels that prayers and devotion are soon to be flooding the heavens.

Strange isn’t it? When we begin to change the way we think about things, those same things change. 

Now when I’m jarred awake by explosions and bells, I gravitate towards meditation.  My mind asks, “Are you woke...In whom do you live and die and have your being?"

Yes, I’ve grown to appreciate my “alarm” in these noisy pre-dawns of October in Ajijic. 

Sure it’s jarring, but maybe that’s the point because it's reminding people of the good stuff - kindness, forgiveness, and justice towards all creation.  It's a way to center in the beauty and wonder of living.  Now that's a pretty good way to start a day.

*****

Here’s a charming and thoughtful story about a woman’s life in 1946 Ajijic. It references our Lady of the Rosary and can still echo in our modern times. I think you'll enjoy a read.

JOY in MARIACHI

I’ve returned to Mexico. For the next three months, Ajijic on Lake Chapala will be home. I’ve come here to teach some English, grow as an artist and meet others while exploring the Mexican culture.

I’m about an hour’s drive form Guadalajara in the Mexican State of Jalisco (in light green). It’s dominated by Mexico's biggest mountain range -the Sierra Madre - and a volcanic range creating many canyons, gorges and plateaus.  

At the end of the rainy season, the burnt brown mountains have transformed into deep tones of green and new life.  

Jalisco is known as the heart and soul of Mexico.  Here a rich culture of music and dance and art developed.  

Ever changing and adapting, it has retained a distinctive Mexican flair and swagger.

On my flight I happen to sit next to and behind a group of Mariachis. They are on their way to the International Mariachi Festival in Guadalajara.

We get to talking. My seat-mate was born in the USA, but as a young man immigrated back to Mexico to live and thrive. 

I ask him, “Why Mariachi besides the income? Quickly he says, “It’s my passion...identity...life.” I want to learn more...

Mariachi emerged out of the long history  of Mexico's conquest, occupation and rebirth. 

Indigenous people were overwhelmed by Spanish conquest in the 1500s. Then so many foreign ships sailed westward.  For more than 300 years, European and African immigrants flooded the land bringing their own cultures.

In the Jalisco area, elements from immigrant cultures were blended into a unique Mexican sound - Mariachi. 

These songs were part of village life and almost always accompanied by dancing and lots of love and good humor. The children learned the old songs on the laps of parents.  Over time the music adapted to new living situations - always staying fresh and lively.  

I’m beginning to understand the depth of Mariachi and why my seat-mate has such a passion for it.

Mariachi exploded from Jalisco to the entire Country in the 20^th century. With the help of mass media – radio and TV – people fell in love with it. 

 Even without knowing the language, I feel it.  Mariachi exudes energy, culture and style. It brings joy.

To learn a lot more click here   

I’m indebted to Mike Champa of Miami University, Ohio for his study and giving me a deeper understanding.

With my new group of Mariachi friends, we exit the plane. We hang together through immigration and customs procedures. Then they help me negotiate a good price for a taxi.  Wonderful!

With gratitude – Gracias – I’m on my way. My mind is already planning a trip back to Guadalajara and the Mariachi Festival.

Here’s a sampling of what I experience during this joyful parade.

Improvised dress turns heads

Let the parade begin

Music and dance fill the streets

Singing from the heart

Friendship is contagious

Mariachi from Estados Unidos

Beautiful and Proud

Listen to some more Mariachi  Feel the joy...