Every person who grew up in the Soviet Union has photos like these stashed in their dusty photo albums. Not all Marriage Palaces used to belong to the Czar’s family but any self-respecting city had a place where the new units of society were forged or at least registered under the watchful stare of Jesus Christ Vladimir Illych Lenin.

In Leningrad the florid stairs of Tchaikovsky march filled the old palace of the czar’s cousin, Prince Andrei Romanov, as a happy couple mounted the deeply carpeted stairway to the elaborate hall where they would be married. Except for the informal dress, the wedding of Elena Pogorelova and Nikolai Smolin might have been a scene in the czarist Russia. It was, ironically, the newest in the “socialist” marriages.

Previously the Communists required civil marriages to be businesslike and perfunctory. But since many comrades missed the ceremony and ritual of church weddings, the government decided to add a bit of romance. The Leningrad “Marriage Palace” is the nation’s first, but many others are planned. In the palace’s waiting rooms Elena and Nikolai could enjoy piped-in music before hearing the speeches at their warm-hearted ceremony. A pleasant room was provided afterward for a champagne reception. Some 500 couples a month have come to be married at the palace and hear the council member admonish, “I wish you happiness and love. Complete happiness is impossible without creative labor for your country.”

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It’s no surprise that I find a lot in common with people 30 year older than me – we share similar memories. But since I am physically not old enough to retire to a front porch where I’d whittle and chase kids off my lawn, occasionally telling educational “in my day…” stories to anyone who would listen, I have to resort to occasionally posting these stories on this here blog. Just like it says in these unfunny pictures old(er) women share on Facebook: “age is nothing but a number”, and my number is 67. I wish the Social Security would agree.

In my day we didn’t go to physicals, the physicals came to us…

…and while the entire class and Lenin himself were watching, the annual health inspection would commence.

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I am ugly enough without being smashed in the face, good thing I don’t like baseball.

An unidentified fan is assisted after being hit by a foul ball hit by Cleveland Indians’ Kelly Shoppach during the second inning of a spring training baseball game against the Kansas City Royals Tuesday, March 3, 2009 in Surprise, Ariz. The game ended in a 9-9 tie after ten innings.

Fans duck for cover as the bat of Baltimore Orioles’ Ryan Raburn flies into the stands during the third inning of a spring training baseball game against the Detroit Tigers in Sarasota, Fla., Friday, March 30, 2012.

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This week the Kansas City’s Jewish Community will be commemorating the 20th anniversary of the Operation Exodus – a massive  effort to resettle the Soviet Jews in North America and Israel. Over a million Jews left the USSR between the years 1970-1995 with a large percentage being welcomed by the communities in the United States. The history of the Jewish emigration out of the USSR has its share of political conflicts and controversies, but the sincerity and generosity of the American citizens trying to help the Soviet Jews is beyond any doubt and is the source of unending gratitude from the recipients of this effort.
When we were leaving in 1992 I didn’t know about any of this: political and humanitarian efforts, 250,000 people marching in Washington in 1987, the Lautenberg Amendment – everything that led to us walking out of the TWA terminal of the Kansas City International airport on a hot October day wearing full winter gear.

By the time of our departure the “iron curtain” had an equivalent of a highway going through it, a road laid out by the thousands of people who made the trip before us, starting with a trickle of refuseniks who spent years being denied the right to leave, and ending with a true exodus of the Jewish population. Everyone knew or was related to someone who had already left, was in the process of leaving or was at least entertaining the idea.

The process was pretty streamlined, and a certain amount of bribes and extortion money made it run relatively smooth.

From obtaining the passports….

 

 

…to an interview at the American Embassy in Moscow, a place where I first got to see real Marines and drop ceilings, to an anxious wait for the telegram with the life-changing words.

Few months later our passports were being stamped by an INS officer at the JFK airport.

I only remember bits and pieces from that time. Flashbacks of trips to Moscow, standing in line near the embassy, first time lighting a cigarette in front of my Mom, medical tests, trying to get rid of our possessions, tearing up “non-essential” photographs, train ride, last customs search, first international flight, Brussels, JFK, St.Louis, etc., etc., etc. A blur of events and faces, places and things…

Many people shared their emigration stories full of drama, tears, heartbreak, hard work, success, joy, fulfillment and hope; mine doesn’t seem so interesting in comparison. I left relatively young and just took it one step at a time always looking forward to the next day. People who came here as a part of Operation Exodus became business owners and engineers, scientists and doctors, the likes of the Google co-founder Sergei Brin and actress Mila Kunis; many achieved professional and financial success, others had a chance to give the best education to their children.

On a smaller scale, I count as my personal successes making Kansas City intimately familiar with the Soviet 1970’s pop-music and spreading the eggplant recipes to the remote areas of the State of Missouri.

Over the years since we immigrated here, I had my share of joys and disappointments; many times the reality turned out to be quite different from what I imagined; some of my ideals were shattered and the other ones were formed but one thing will always remain with me – the people who welcomed us here, provided the things we needed, helped us make this city home, drove us to the appointments, taught me to drive, helped with the resume, and did countless other things to make us feel wanted. Some of these people were related to us, but the majority were just members of the community whom we never had a chance to properly thank.

All these people who helped, marched, contributed and just provided moral support should be proud of themselves – their efforts changed countless lives to the better; their charity and sacrifice will be forever appreciated.

Thank You.

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Recently I was watching one of the most popular Soviet comedies of all time Ivan Vasilievich: Back to the Future for the millionth time, recalling how almost every phrase in that movie was enshrined in the pop culture. In the movie a home-grown scientist sends a regular Soviet bureaucrat to the past where he just happens to look like Ivan The Terrible, who in turn travels back to the 1973 Moscow. In one of the scenes the fake Tsar is having a feast and the dishes are being announced as they arrive: “Black Caviar” (huge bowl), “Red Caviar” (huge bowl), “And from overseas, Eggplant Caviar” (a small drop of supposed delicacy).

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPfTAX590Wg

This is a tongue-in-check reference to the Soviet food supply system where the real caviar was hard to find and was resold on the black market while so called “eggplant caviar” and “zucchini caviar” where sometimes the only items on the mostly empty shelves and were frowned upon by the Soviet people. That’s why I don’t recommend most Russian comedies to an unprepared American viewers they need to be thoroughly explained.

Needless to say that I didn’t miss these not-so-good vegetable concoctions, but when I read this recipe it sounded good enough to try.

For this recipe you will need about 3-4 lbs of zucchini, 3 medium onions, 2 large red peppers, 6-8 tomatoes, 4 oz of tomato paste, 1 pepperoncino (this lady lives in Italy, I used some pepper I grabbed in the Mexican aisle), salt,  pepper and olive oil.

Cut zucchini into small cubes, put in a separate dish and sprinkle with salt. Cube peppers and onions. Heat up some olive oil in a skillet, add chopped pepperoncino (or whatever you are using) and red peppers and saute on both sides. Remove to another dish, I used my enameled cast iron pot. Add more oil to the skillet and saute the onions until translucent; when done, move them to the pot. Squeeze the liquid from zucchini and saute in the skillet, add to the pot. Cube the tomatoes (I removed the seeds), saute them in the olive oil adding the tomato paste. Combine with the rest of the vegetables. Add salt and pepper to taste and cook on a medium heat for about 20 minutes stirring occasionally.


It’s probably a good thing that this zucchini caviar doesn’t taste like the stuff I remember from my childhood. Sometimes the memory is good enough to satisfy the food nostalgia without having to subject the taste buds to the horrible taste of the past.

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