Old Country Surprises
by
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Old Country Surprises My grandfather died a little over a year ago. Since then, my brothers continually pressured me to record the Ukraine holiday experience we shared five years ago. “You’re not repeating those stories to Grandfather anymore. Before you know it, you’ll start forgetting important details,” warned John, my insistent younger brother. “How do you expect your sons to value the stories Grandfather sent us to discover? You don’t even make a point of writing them down. And write the uncensored version. You know, tell it like you did when we played our poker games.” He meant include Natasha’s role. Uncle Jim’s visit a couple of days ago forced my hand. Reviewing the research holiday could no longer be delayed. Face your guilt, I told myself. You failed to meet Grandfather’s expectations as a result of the research trip. Managing that uncomfortable reality was possible, but evaluating Natasha’s effect on me demanded more than just reviewing facts. For a time I wished her physical attractiveness balanced out her subtle, unsettling actions. A vague sense of needing her prevented me from dismissing her altogether. Once I started the story I had to confess, John was right. I already forgot some details. I wish I’d written everything down within the first few months of returning home, but work demands and then family won out. I think I still remember the really important facts. The proper beginning of the Ukraine holiday really starts with my grandfather telling us boys about what life was like in the old days. The old days weren’t just what life was like before his family moved to Canada. It was what life was like for his father and the generations before him. All were poor farmers, peasants. They survived poverty, the government, the weather, and the hard work. He praised his family for sticking together and helping each other when needs arose. Somehow, I feel he didn’t think we believed him or didn’t take him seriously. Or maybe he felt he missed out on sensitizing his son, my dad, to our heritage, and so he tried one more time, with his grandsons. Grandfather didn’t have any living brothers any more. Gramma died a few years earlier. No one was left to backup his stories. I suspect he thought; “My grandsons see my stories as an old man’s ramblings, just a source of entertainment.” Perhaps that’s what motivated him to offer to pay our plane fare to the old country if we would search out his birthplace and talk to some of the oldest people there. He even contributed some money for research. He rightly knew we’d jump for a subsidized holiday. Uncle Jim surprised me when he told me that he and Aunt Susan planned to travel to the Ukraine at the end of August, just when we were going. His plans were to visit a friend of his business partner, Mr. Foresschuck, who promised show him around the area. There was a chance Uncle Jim and his partner might invest in the Ukraine with Mr. Foresschuck. I hadn’t thought of it at the time, but now I wonder if my grandfather didn’t ask him to be in the area in case I needed some help. My brothers and I agreed that after three days of exploring Kiev, we would drop in on Uncle Jim. John’s friend Eric and Eric’s older sister, Stephanie and my girl friend at the time, Melissa, joined us. We all rode a bus over to the Crown Plaza, where Uncle Jim and Aunt Susan booked at room. As it turned out we arrived too early. They were to land that night. The clerk at the desk asked if we wanted to stay at the Crown Plaza. I must have had some kind of frown after he informed us of the cost--over a two hundred Canadian dollars a night. He didn’t pursue that effort again. I recall asking him if he knew anyone who could help us find the location of my grandfather’s birthplace. I showed him what my grandfather had written down and told him we only knew that it was near Kiev. I said the tourist information center sent us to the library. The librarian couldn’t help us because he said we either had an incorrect spelling or the place was too small for their historical records. He recommended talking to an elderly gentleman who worked weekends in the library. He had a very good memory for local details of the past. The clerk looked at the name on the note pad but showed no sign of recognition. “I know of someone who might be able to help you out,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Her name is Natasha. She manages a small inn in a place a little over a hundred and twenty kilometers from here. She takes a great deal of pride in knowing the history around this area. If Natasha can’t help you, she could put you in touch with someone who could.” That was the best news I’d received since I arrived. My hopes were raised even more when I found out that we could reach her inn by train in less than two hours. He smiled when he said their rooms were considerably less expensive too. I asked if he’d phone to see if she’d be in later this afternoon. I also indicated we would be interested in rooms for the six of us. I hoped that would give him an incentive to phone. It did. Rooms were available, and she would be in. He wrote the name of the hotel and where to find it. Looking at what he wrote I knew it was something that I wouldn’t easily remember. I confess; I’ve lost that paper. But it did what it was meant to do. Our two cabs pulled up to the right place with no trouble.
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About the Book
When Mike Bennek’s ailing grandfather asks him to take time off from work for a research holiday to the Ukraine, Mike eagerly accepts. He looks forward to connecting with his family’s past; along with his brothers and a few friends, he embarks on the vacation of a lifetime.
From the moment they arrive, the group becomes enchanted with the different culture surrounding them. Exotic new foods, architectural wonders, and the language itself wrap them in the past. But Mike also realizes that, while the Ukrainian people have not forgotten their troubled past, today they are still being haunted by a harmful Russian influence. It is one more narrative he must add to his grandfather’s story.
Mike finds his grandfather’s birthplace with the help of the beautiful, strong-willed Natasha. He hears stories from long ago and learns more about his family and their culture than either he or his grandfather thought possible. From traditional Easter eggs and the peasants’ disdain for the aristocracy to a benevolent nobleman who played a major role in his family’s life, Mike comes to appreciate his grandfather—and his history—more than ever before.
With colorful details of the Ukraine and a dash of romance, Old Country Surprises speaks to the importance of family and the bonds of loyalty.
About the Author
Ken Saik, a retired social studies high school teacher, has published two other books. He is a third generation Ukrainian Canadian currently living in Alberta, Canada.