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Note that we've played, um, loose with the categories so the first 3 especially, are practically meaningless.


News 4 A 1
Reich 4.0

Ukraine and Mother Break

The most important political issue in Ukraine is relations with Russia. L’viv identifies more with Ukraine nationalism and the Greek Orthodox church while Donetsk, predominantly Russian, favours Soviet-ism. In Kiev and central and southern regions, these issues are not as important to the population. Everywhere, people feel unified by shared economic difficulties.

Mother Break

Oh hey, I’ll get back to the Chernobyl story soon. I’m experiencing a mother break.

I just came back from a women in technology event. God, I get tired of hearing how to go forward. Do any of these women know what it is like to have loss and failure, and the only bright thing you can imagine being a reward after death, for suffering through life instead of committing the mortal sin of suicide, bred into them?

My mother once tried to explain to me how hard it was to be a mother. “When you were a baby and cried at night, I’d just pick you up out of your cradle and cry right along with you,” she told me.

Here she was doing it again. I didn’t ask to hear these stories. She was compelled to tell them to me. She had no friends. Any that she did have, she could not cry and complain to incessantly or they’d avoid her. So she was polite, charming and a good listener to her “friends,” who consisted of neighbours and the mothers of our school mates. My “best friend” in school was the daughter of our neighbour. We had nothing in common but my mom wanted desperately to have someone to talk to. So Kaitlyn and I became, well, I became Kaitlyn’s bitch, basically, so my mom had a reason to call Kaitlyn’s mom.

We lived on a farm, with a long, long lane, two miles out of town. My parents were immigrants, who came over with their parents as teenagers. They didn’t choose this new land of promise and opportunity themselves, they were uprooted just as they started developing into a young man and a young woman and in a way, inhibited from development. They couldn’t speak English and both lived on farms miles from other families so they couldn’t socialize much, and grow away from their parents.

My mom had to work as housecleaner in the city during the week, coming home only on weekends. Her earnings went to Grandpa to help support the family/establish his farm. My Dad, when he was sixteen, he and his brother went to work in a logging camp in northern Manitoba because their parents couldn’t afford to feed them. They got fed in the camp. They came back several months later. Their wages had been just enough to cover food, lodging and some kind of return trip. My Dad was the saddest, quietest person I have ever known. (My mom was a bit of wailer and hitter.)

We only had one vehicle. I have four brothers and a sister. My mom would do just about anything for a bit of conversation with someone other than her sullen daughters or loser husband. So I became friends with Kaitlyn.

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