This rule book was issued in 1987 for the Soviet Military Contingent in Afghanistan. The Soviets still had two bloody years left before the last troops made it home. Not getting drafted to serve in Afghanistan was probably the only benefit of being Jewish that ever materialized in all off my life in the USSR. Thousands of others weren’t so lucky and over 15,000 didn’t come home.
In dim light reluctantly released by the Government so the citizens wouldn’t bump into each other I was schlepping to kindergarten. It was 5 in the morning. I turned 5 just few months before and my sleeping in days were long gone. The System wouldn’t let me stay in bed past 7 for the next sixty years, when it will spit out my chewed up and worn out shell of a body patched up like Frankenstein monster by the torture they called free medicine.
I looked around. Zombie-like builders of communism were slowly moving past me. Same clothes, same faces, empty eyes. Years of being fed just bread and fat-free ideology drained the will to live out of people. At night, when the curtains were closed and my parents covered up the listening devices, they whispered about something they called meat. Once a year they tried to recreate meat out of contraband mayo and turnips. It was horrible but we stunned our taste buds with vodka to make it palatable.
It was early spring but one couldn’t tell just by looking at the Communist-controlled weather. Behind the barbwire fences, system’s functionaries, the apparatchiks, were frolicking in the sun and warmth. We got what was left. Used air contained hardly any oxygen. I stopped to take a deep breath.
The International Women’s Day – a holiday celebrating heavy women in cotton-stuffed waist jackets, head scarves and year-round galoshes was approaching. Communist cell in the kindergarten was preparing a concert where like trained monkeys we would attempt to entertain these never-smiling representatives of the weaker gender. Weaker? I evil-laughed on the inside, grinding my teeth. My face remained stoic and expressionless.
I was assigned to perform a Russian folk dance. The System knew I was Jewish and it was their way of putting and extra-painful twist on the torture that was dancing. My head yearned to be covered. My feet were itching to break out in Freilach. I craved gefilte fish even though I didn’t know what gefilte was. Or fish. Instead I found myself standing next to a girl, dressed in a Russian shirt and shorts. It was so cold inside that even ever-present Lenin’s portrait on the wall was covered with frost. My legs were slowly turning blue to match the shorts.
When the music started the headmistress’s eyes told me I had to smile and dance or I will be forced to read Das Kapital while marching around the room for the fifth time in a month. My smile felt like a grimace and my dance moves were awkward, but I couldn’t bring myself to read about the plight of the proletariat one more time.
Scary women in the audience did not smile anyway. They just didn’t know how. After the performance the teachers force-fed us disgusting chocolates filled with Marxism and Leninism. I willed myself not to gag. This came useful later when I lived on the streets of New York doing anything for a buck. Just like Marx predicted.
Standing there ashamed and smeared with chocolate, in a room where one could cut ideology with a knife, I had a dream that I, I someday will tearfully tell about my hardships to the American press and be quoted in every article about Russia.
Most religions start with some kind of revelation. Some guy while walking in the woods finds golden plates, next thing you know, two scmucks are knocking on your door asking strange questions. An old man walks to the top of the mountain, comes down with a couple of stone tablets, next thing you know I have to feel bad about eating bacon. A guy gets crucified, next thing you know….
I may be on to something too. Lately, I started noticing that Dove Chocolate Promises contain unlimited supply of chocolate wisdom and life directives. After eating several bags of chocolates I now have enough wrappers to cover most of life’s questions and daily matters.
The Promises can be divided into two categories: wisdom and directives.
Directives:
Go to your special place
Go against the grain
Send a love letter this week
Don’t think about it so much
Follow your instincts
Whisper in the dark
Live your dreams
Wink at someone driving past today
Smile. People will wonder what you’ve been up to
Love without rules
Discover yourself
Watch reruns, they replay your memories
Wisdom:
It’s definitely a bubble-bath day
There is a time for compromise…it’s called “later”
Sometimes one smile means more than a dozen roses
Age is nothing but a number
If they can do it, you know you can
When two hearts race both win
Temptation is fun…giving in is even better
These pearls can be combined in an infinite number of ways. Try it:
Don’t think about it so much+Go to your special place+Discover yourself
See, it’s like a higher power telling you what to do.
OK, I am back from my “special place” where I just “discovered myself” and I am “smiling” so “people will wonder what I’ve been up to”. Get it?
I am on my quest to eat more Dove Promises to finally discover the secret of life. I found out that I can actually order my own Promises with old stand-by’s like “don’t pee against the wind” or “don’t eat yellow snow”.
