Russian section of NYC?

In theory, they can. In practice, its incredibly difficult to acquire fluency in multiple languages. If I had a choice, I'd take Spanish. I won't marry Russian, so only one parent will speak it. If they want to learn all about Daddy's roots later in life, they're welcome to blow their money on heritage tours of Moscow where they'll be shown the Kremlin and GUM.

Our "background". Hah. I grew up Jewish. My parents told me that, my government told me that and my school told me that. I'm preserving my heritage just fine. Until the Revolution allowed Jews into the cities and into professions they had nothing in common with Russians save some similarties in language. 70 years of a horrific social experiment didn't change that much for my family.

I wouldn't show them those movies. I don't watch them myself. What they won't be able to read/understand is 12 chairs. But frankly, lets face it - who in this generation truly can decipher the alphabet soup that book becomes? And who understand much about NAP these days?

 

What's wrong with having exposure to more than 1 culture, nicephoras?
Chances are your grandkids will speak Chinese anyway.

 

Um, Yasik? I'm assuming a fluent understanding of English as a prerequisite. I'm not planning on raising the kindele in Miami. On top of that, if my kids will be able to read Cervantes (or even Flaubert) in vernacular, I'd be thrilled. As for GUM and Kremlin - what do you think the kids will want to see on a trip to daddy's "homeland"? The institute his grandfather taught in? The village his great great grandfather herded goats in? Or Kremlin and GUM? And what do you think will be shown to them?

Who said anything about erasing? I'm posting here after all, aren't I? But what does that have to do with maintaining my Russian "background" or heritage, which FM will tell you I don't even have?

Its not that I "don't like watching them" - its that I simply don't. Almost none of my friends are Russian. (Actually, none are that aren't friends of teh family.) The only Russian books I read are classics. While I'll always retain something in common with other eastern european Jews, I fail to see why my kids will. Jews, sure. But I don't see what being from Russia has to do with it.

 

Ooh I wish I had time to post to all this, but gotta finish my stoopid program. So hold those thoughts, my druggies!

 

Just came back from Moscow, BTW.
It seems to be a much friendlier place now than 3 years ago, but the prices are still extremely steep. But, among the very good experiences I can definitely mention the following:
1) The Lokomotiv Stadium. An amazing facility, beautiful grass, very civilized yet vocal fans, though in somewhat underwhelming quantities, and an atmosphere of genuine love for the club and professionalism on the part of everyone involved, down to and including parking guards. Even the cops where friendly and not nearly as threatenning as they are at Petrovsky Park or Luzhniki.
2) Beer. It was probably only a matter of time before the huge amounts of Russian brands yielded a passable one, rekindling memories of pre-default Baltika, and the time is now. Behold Staryi Melnik, an easy-going lager with a very pleasing taste. Its combination with pelmeni is practically deadly for anyone with an iota of nostalgia. It's so good, it almost cancels out anti-Semitism. In a country where all Czech and German "imports" are brewed and bottled in Kaluga, finding a good home brand is essential and Staryi Melnik satisfies even the most demanding tastes.
Nevskoye, however, was disappointing, as its very strong taste does not compensate for the low quality of the brew.
3) Park Pobedy. Central Park could only wish it had its open-air museum of WWII machinery and Zurab Tsereteli's intimidating yet comically untalented attempts at monumental artwork.
4) Theaters. New York, New York can be a hell of a town but compared to Moscow it's a cultural wasteland and even nicephoras knows it. The Anton Chekhov Festival held in the theatrical offseason offered a variety of avant-garde artsy fare, but the absurdist English play I got to see at a small establishement near the Pushkin Square was an entertaining experience.
5) Women... Well, their penchant for overdoing it dresswise can sometimes be tiresome and some of them would be a better fit as an extra in Pretty Woman, but the overall quality is unmatched anywhere in the world.
6) Cultural diversity. Moscow is becoming a true cosmopolitan city with over half of its population being migrants from as far as Tajikistan. Give it one generation, and it will be a certifiable Babylon. Who knows, maybe with the combined effect of migration and Staryi Melnik mit pelmeni, anti-Semitism will finally be a thing of the past.

As for GUM and Kremlin, I've never been inside the latter and haven't visited the former for a long time. But to each his own, I guess.
Nicephoras's pointed refusal to marry Russian, by the way, points to his Russianinity better than if he would admit to drinking Flagman vodka every day while chasing it with Pokhlebka po-Suvorovski.

 

I am in agreement 100% with you here.

My family is like this too. Only 4 people give a damn about where we come from. I guess it is, because my great grandparents were the ones to come over, and they all just assume we are American now and nothing else. I love being American there is nothing I would rather be, but I can't just let go of my roots. My Dad's side is from the British Isles. My Great Grandma from London, Great Grandpa from Limerick, Ireland. That is the easy one.

Now we go to my Mom's side. She is from the south, and I am talking deeeeeep south Lousiana. Like Bayou country. Great Grandma on that side from Spain. Spanish was lost after she passed, but I have retrieved it in school. Great Grandpa from France spoke French all the way up until my Mom's parents refused to learn it. They saw no need to speak French, much less Cajun French. The South is a mess, but I just don't understand how you would not want to learn the language of your ancestors. My whole house is decorated in French like themes, but we can barely muster u pa conversation in French.

Sorry I kind of rambled here, but I felt that you needed to know you are not the only one who's family totally has given up on their heritage.

 

Well yes. But I'm not planning on teaching them three at once.

What YOU would go see isn't relevant here. Its what they as interlopers to a culture they don't understand will one day want to see to understand where their forefathers "came from". And that's what they will be shown. As for why I couldn't show it to them, you're assuming I would want to go when I'm in my 60s. I do not forsee that being the case.

More good then bad. Well, its a funny way of looking at it. I suppose those who were born in concentration camps got more good out of it then bad, if they were then allowed to come into the US. Not a great argument. I have no attachment left to the place save some relatives. It never had any for me, and it charged me money to strip me of a second class citizenship.

Perhaps it is for you. But that's because you see yourself as Russian. Generally, I've seen from most emigres, that they do not have some of both. They either have Russian friends or American friends. It promotes a self contained circle. I have no desire to enter into that circle.
Beyond which, I am more American than I am Russian. I have no interest in Russian cinema, Russian music or (God forbid) Russian television. I have no accent. Most people I work with don't realize I speak Russian. I grew up on the Simpsons, with Nu Pogody a vague memory. What am I holding onto but bitter family conversations around the dining table?

 

Aside from having the finest Klezmer experience you'll find anywhere, New York does just fine for culture. I'm surprised you even made that comment.

Your search for the pithy has led you astray Shurik. Most Russians are under no such illusions, as their dating pools are usually restricted to others of Russian descent.
Besides which, you didn't read my point accurately. I have not "refused" to marry Russian. I simply won't get the chance. I don't know them and don't date them. Unless I procure a bride from abroad, I'm afraid its not going to happen.

 

So much good material , my neshuma is rejoicing at the lack of belittling or patronizing during the conversation.
Emes.

My $3.98.

I've NO friends - sure, acquaintances - former friends - someone who thinks them are me friends (slowly dem illusions are dying off).
Reason - realization that the family, interests and sumpm I'm not sure anyone would call an occupation, taking up all the time; yes - a lot of unusual, even critical circumstances - yet the choice is mine; on the other hand - having taking cabs G-d knows where mit a "Russian" cabbie - never been taken for one.
A story - UCLA Optical research institute - 3 months ago - I take me lovely bride for an exam - during an aforementioned exam, I've a lovely 2 hour conversation mit a 59 year old faded beauty fin Odessa , who brought her 73 year old 3rd husband in (may he who gives us light AND moths, bless his soul).
Never it has crossed her mind that I might understand Russian ; oh what a symphony her life was - Maupassant couldn't imagine dat kinda chit.
I do cherish the miserly Russian - Moldavian - SOviet memories - sure most of them were painful - but... it was MY pain, and not anyone else's; the good things were GREAT in comparison, most importantly - quite an intricate, complex and dichotomical culture became the basis of my makeup ( and I'm richer for it), and yes I do feel quite guilty for witholding it from mein maidalah, yet, methinks it is a right thing to do for variety of reasons.

NPA - you sure your Grampa herded goats - usually that line of work was reserved for goyim myishigas? Now Institut (edrenna vosh') dat's a correct place to be.

 

I can't even go that far. I was nine when I left. Talking about my pain would require even more self indulgence than I possess.

My grandfather? He was a professor of chemistry. The other was an accountant/NAP entrepeneur. The second may once have owned a goat. Judging by my genes, he couldn't have herded his own grandmother ten paces down the road.

 

Awright dat explains a lot - I was almost 17, and have not been back since.

The Grampa's stories now jive a lot better as well, me alopogies.

 

No need to apologize. My great grandfather on my father's side did own some farm animals. A sign of great wealth, it was.

 

It's people like your ancestors that served the cause of anti-Semitism in Russia. Now, MY great-grandpa was a regular Jewish peasant, with his own land and farm animals and no goyim slaves to do the work for him. That position was well filled by his 7 children.
My grandma married a goy, producing my mom, who got her college degree at the age of 30 via a correspondence course. As for my dad, who is 100% Jewish, he was a factory worker and played basketball for the Moldavian junior selection. My step-dad, another pure Jew, was a career military officer and a Ukrainian wrestling champion.

Not that this saved any of us from anti-Semites, but at least I get to watch the expression on my Russian acquintance's faces when I tell them my family history.

Probably, but it's not nearly as affordable or accessible, unless your preferences lie in the area of the lesser Broadway fare. Washington's free-admissions museums do a better job.

I hope you don't mind my interloping into your conversation with yasik. The topic fascinates me.
My circle is my family, one Byelorussian/Jewish friend and his wife, whose history is your exact double (she was brought here at the age of 11). I am not a very communicable person. But who you identify yourself with is a deeply personal matter, and not always a matter of choice.
The fact that you even feel compelled to tell us your position is a proof that not everything is clear and settled in your mind. And it never will be.
Two weeks from now I will go to California to interview an ex-NBA player who was an All Star in the 60s and played with Wilt Chamberlain. The name is Tom Meschery, but it really was Tomislav Nikolayevich Mescheryakov.
His connections to Russia are even less tangible than yours. He was born in Harbin, spent some time in a Japanese internment camp and emigrated to the States when he was still a child. His dad made him read Pushkin, but he identified himself as an American to the point of breaking off relations with his family. He is in his 70s now, at the end of his career as an English professor, and the first thing he is going to do after retirement is go to Russia and try to get back the language of his father.
You've done a good job shedding your past. But it's not that easy to eradicate it. I don't even think you really want to.
As a matter of fact, you serve as a great example that it's pretty much impossible.

A really good job. Perhaps even a better one than Brodsky or Nabokov.

You'll come to have a lot of nostalgia for those conversations. It will be about the time you realize that a Russian dinner table has so much more to offer to you as a person than the American one, quality of food aside.

I married a Russian non-Jew, which in the eyes of most of my relatives (even, amazingly, the aforementioned grandma), is a worse transgression than marrying an American. There was a long period in my life when my wife was the only Russian relative I spoke to.
It's ultimately about your compatibility with the person than what their heritage is. Though, admittedly, we do have lots of fun arguing about the life in the 1980s USSR.

Life is a crazy thing. Regardless, your great-grandkids will definitely speak Chinese.

 

I would like to take dis moment to ofiicially clarify my position on Yids owning farm animals, and the herding of the above (animals), not to be confused mit one Messr. Khomeini's tractat on legal ramification of Islam judicial system in regards of "coitus noninterruptus" mit desert farm and non-farm animals.

My Grampa owned plenty of table fodder in a little village by the river inside the line , where I've spent quite a few summer months. My reply to NPA was not in regards to owning or caring for the sheep unt such, but HERDING them; usually a Jewish village would hire a meshugge goy (sometimes a meshugge Yid) to come in the morning - gather cows, sheep (sometimes even goats) and lead them for a day to greener pastures; since NPA mentioned that his greatgrampa herded goats I voiced ( quite accurately) my concern in regards of his gene pool being tainted by the aforementioned meshugge. Much to my releif -the error was straightened out , and NPA's kids will have no higher chance than any other normal bubbalah , to posses unexplaianble urges of running in green meadows mit a whip and a bag containg bread, onions and a jug of "vin de casa".

 

Yea, well, my Italian Great Grand Father in Brooklyn had a Russian Jewish mistress. SO there!

We Italians own you!

 

Your last phrase only proves that you have no experience whatsoever dealing with Jewish women. Lucky bastard. You great-granddad, of course, was anything but.

 

Agreed, that was something so tasteless I probably wouldn't have even said it.

 

He's Italian did you expect better? When they win you never hear the end of it, and when they lose they cry foul.

 

"Why do all Italian men die 15 years before their Jewish mistresses do?

Because they want to!"



Guess you own us in a way dat Olofern did.


And now for the Gypsy interpretation of the avatar reference :

" 2012 - Olympic Games Opening in Dallas and Riyadh - simultaneously.
London idea died - since G.W. , Jeb and Binri B.L.'s 51 family members threw $19B IOC way.

IOC Chairman G.W. Bush is addressing the World prior to the torch lighting ceremony by Fuzzy Zoeller.

Intently staring into the teleprompter in Dallas, the Great Man says :
"Yo."

Standing applause - in both venues.

With a determined scowl :
"Yo!"

Mild applause in both venues

Quite ponderingly :

"Yo?"

Mild applause in Dallas


Reassuringly, yet thoughtfully :

"Yo..."

A few claps here and there from the podium

Cheerfully, mit stacatto und bravado + intent gazing into the teleprompter:

"Yo!!!"

A touch of reflective, deep silence, interrupted by Shurik opening a bottle of "Staryiy Mel'nik" in the journalist section (hadta wash down the BBQ Pork Hot Link).


USOC head - Mr.Rumsfeld reaches from his wheel chair, pulls on GW's "Wrangler"'s and whispers :

"Mr. President - you are reading the Olympic Rings."

"Yeah, I know bud, Daddy got dem chits; but how'd you like me spicing them up on Condi's advice?"