Who am I and what's my story? I could meet the question from so many directions in so many ways. The road we choose in life takes us to who we are and there always is a story to go along with it.

My story, just like everybody else's, is full of twists. Our lives are so unique to each of us and so common when related to the daily cosmic synergy our existence as humans spins on.
Both sets of my grandparents came from faraway lands.

Europe at the beginning of the 20th century through the Second War and beyond offered background as unique as the people living in it. Borders were alive and changed from one day to the next.

My paternal grandfather was born in Lvov--part of southeastern Poland when he was born, then occupied by the Soviet Union in 1939 under the terms of the German-Soviet Pact. There's a lot of history, real world history that comes along with my story. I didn't care for it much when I was younger but as I grew older everything changed. How many people can use both: Hitler and Lenin in the same story?

It turns out my grandmother shook Lenin's hand. You may not think of it too much, after all we live in a capitalist society not very opened to a Marxist reference. I didn't think too much of it myself when I first heard it as a child but as I grew older and politically mature it became one of the coolest details I know about my family. Lenin was traveling by train across Russia and his train stopped in Kiev where he was greeted by many people. My grandmother was amongst the admirers.

By 1943 my grandfather was a well-established intellectual--managing his considerable estate, which included horses, large houses and servants.

One night with only the clothes on their backs, he and his family left their lives of abundance, love, and happiness to run away from Stalin's idiotic behavior while trying hard not to fall in Hitler's ring of fire, on the other side of the conflict.

How full of surprises is life? How rich one can be with only a change of clothes--alive only because of the warm hearts and kindness of strangers?



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Following the death of Lenin in 1924, Stalin prevailed over Trotsky--taking control of the Communist party and imposing his reign of terror against Jews, intellectuals and the remaining landowners who survived the Bolshevik revolution. Lenin protected Jews. His speeches, left for posterity, clearly iterate tolerance towards this large segment of the Russian population.

Breaking the Nazi/Soviet alliance, German troops invaded Soviet territory in June 1941. In an odd twist, Joseph Stalin became a powerful ally for US--opposing Nazi Germany and its Axis. During the summer and autumn of 1941, German troops advanced deep into the Soviet Union, but stiffening Red Army resistance prevented the Germans from capturing the key cities of Leningrad and Moscow. On December 6, 1941, Soviet troops launched a counteroffensive that drove German forces from the outskirts of Moscow.

Kiev prepared for attack. 200,000 people helped the army with preparations. On July 11th, 1941, German troops appeared on the Irpen River Bridge.

In the background of war, Stalin eliminated enemies of the revolution--sending men to the front and children and women to work camps far away on the frozen tundra of Siberia. Many families perished. These were things my grandfather feared when leaving everything behind and changing forever the lives of everybody connected to him.

The front line moved quickly toward Kiev. My grandmother held my father in her arms while her four-year-old little girl held her hand.

In a split second, she lost her grip on her little girl, Galia's, hand. A bright ball of fire separated them. Details are scarce, but the little girl perished that night. My grandmother watched, horrified and helpless, as her little girl was swallowed in a mortar shell's ball of fire.
What motivates people to survive grim strikes of misfortune and tragedy?

Though only three years old, my father remembers the bombing that night.
How many three-year-olds have seen the flames of hell?

My grandmother lost her hearing--because of the explosion or the trauma of losing her child? She rarely talked about it, but never forgave herself for letting go of her little girl's hand. The only times this tough woman permitted herself to shed a tear were when immersed in these memories...

Life would be so different if things happened in an alternate sequence.

For the rest of her life, my grandmother was convinced Galia was a guardian angel watching over our family. Nobody had the heart to deny this wisp of magic dust that protected the living and commemorated the dead.

Kiev witnessed two battles, one for defense and other for liberation. Both were some of the biggest battles of WW2, and touched my family in ways hard to comprehend.

I narrowed my attention and focus on this part of my family history because I believe it set the stage for my destiny and for who I am today. Of course, this all happened before I was born and there's a story about that too. I have it all in my head and I will put it down on paper or in the cloud, as technology dictates today.

For all I know I am who I am today because of what was left behind in Kiev and what was experienced later on by my family. When I was born, my future was sealed by all that happened during the war.