A long time ago, on a gray, rainy day in central Ukraine, the body of my paternal grandfather was going into the ground. My cousin and I were charged with standing by as goodbyes were said and the coffin was eventually lowered, holding a portrait of Grandpa Anatoly that was much too big and heavy for two weeping kids. Nearby, a bunch of men that grandpa had worked with were laughing and telling jokes. “So long and see you again! But not any time soon, I hope!” one of them said cheerfully before he kissed my grandfather’s dead hand, which was folded over his chest (Ukrainian funerals are pretty metal — we no joke kiss our corpses).
I hated that cheerful man fiercely in that moment, the urge to hit hit only slightly overwhelmed by my urge to pee — my grandfather, as it turned, had been a popular person, and the leave-taking at the graveside took forever. And this was Ukraine. Not many public toilets around, let alone ones that don’t remind you of Ninth Circle of Hell crossed with a chemical lab in a rogue dictatorship.
Decades later, as I watch my adopted motherland, the United States, lurch from crisis to crisis, I remember the laughter by my grandpa’s open grave. I understand it now.
Grandpa Tolya, as we called him, was a lot of things to people — but one of his defining characteristics was being happiest when others were simply having fun around him, even if he was in pain. I inherited that quality from him, alongside my fivehead and intense love of Raphael’s Madonnas (Grandpa Tolya may have been a Soviet engineer, but he was born to be a Renaissance painter).
The lesson of Grandpa Tolya’s life, as I have come to see it, is that you’re no good to anyone if you can’t fucking laugh once in a while. Even when the world is ending all around you — and every death is the end of a world. At the funeral, grandpa’s co-workers were honoring that, they were honoring him.
*wink*
Today, I would like to honor him too — by starting this newsletter. I want to provide you with a humorous look at my specialties: current events, conspiracy theories, online safety, telling stories, Russia, Ukraine, and, as a very big bonus, fashion, art, and tasty food. Yes, my RECIPES, which you are familiar with if you follow my Twitter or Instagram, will be one of the bonuses paying subscribers will get.
The idea is that more current topics will be reserved for Mon - Weds, and more fun ones for Thurs - Fri. It’s going to be lit.
By starting this newsletter, I am not just honoring my grandfather. I am also honoring my powerful need to eat. I’ve survived the 2020 crises very intact so far, but things are about to get much harder for me. So you will be supporting me and my ridiculously cute son. And no, I’m not above trading on his cuteness. For one thing, I heavily contributed to his genetic makeup.
So please subscribe and enjoy. And tell your friends that all of the cool people are doing it.
P.S. No, I did not pee myself at the funeral. It gets better than that. I eventually went off to pee behind some trees (as previously mentioned, Ukrainian public toilets exist to give people PTSD/offer them a glimpse of hell should they be bad in life), and — drumroll please — scratched my butt on thorns. I’m sure there’s a metaphor in there.