The New Year of Winter 2023 has brought much-needed rain to this part of Northern California and more is expected over the next several weeks, not a major inconvenience. I am grateful for the change in the weather pattern that will bring additional water to fill the creeks, rivers, lakes and reservoirs. It also brings a change of wardrobe: I wear boots, a rain jacket and scarf and carry an umbrella. As I saunter out for my daily walks in neighborhoods, my mind sometimes wanders and reflects on the past.
Walking by city parks and schoolyards, I am reminded of my childhood living in New York. I enjoyed the winters, with its sights, sounds and activities of the season: of playing outside, having snowball fights and trying to build snow forts and igloos and sledding down hills. I actually walked to school in the snow and rain—no big deal, more an adventure, for a young kid! But, even at such a young age, I knew and felt the discomfort of the coldness seeping into me and the instinct of when to return home. I knew that going home was all about the warmth: from the meals of warm food and drink served, to the warm bath water that I submerged my body in, to being tucked in at night under the warmth and weighty layers of blankets on my bed. It seemed only after these simple basic rituals were performed that I sensed that all was well as I gazed down to watch the snow falling gently under a street lamp from my bedroom window, my last vision before sleep overtook me.
Years later, the experience of being cold at times further confirmed my belief that nobody likes being cold…Nobody! We need warmth: the warmth of hearth and home, the warmth of family, friends and community, the warmth of shelters provided from the many storms of life—storms visited upon us by both nature and human nature. We human beings need warmth!
And continuing along the way another memory draws forth as my mind travels across the ocean to the homeland of my grandparents—to the city of Kyiv in the Ukraine. They emigrated in the early part of the 20th Century due to political and religious reasons and to seek a better life in America. The people of the Ukraine now in the early part of this 21st century are also seeking a better life—a better life in their country. They are staying, fighting and dying for their beliefs.
I read that in the town of Lyman, in the Ukraine, an older woman, Kateryna, manages some of the humanitarian aid flowing into the city from an abandoned kindergarten. She had to move into her mother-in-law’s home from her former residence—a residence that was without heat—so she could keep warm with a wood stove. A scenario that has undoubtedly played out amongst many other survivors in cities, towns, and villages throughout her country over the past year.
Kateryna stated, “We were told there is no heating in the apartments and there won’t be any. It’s OK. We’ll survive, we’ll manage. We’ll break through.” And so they will.
And with this walk now over, I view my neighborhood—and see what? The homes, mine included, are all standing and undamaged and with their lights on. I silently note not having to avoid roads, view bomb craters or listen to deafening, earth-shaking explosions. The power lines, the telephone lines and cell towers all around seem to be standing tall and operating. Infrastructure appears to be up and running. When I re-enter my house there are no broken or blown out windows. I have plumbing that functions. I can turn on a faucet and am able to drink water, flush a toilet, take a shower, do my laundry. There is electricity and gas. I can push a button and the heat comes on—warming my bones. If hungry, I can pull something out of my refrigerator, turn on the stove, or again push a button on the microwave, to warm my food.
In this day and age, looking East, thousands of miles away—it is almost inconceivable and beyond tragic to view what has occurred and continues. Yet, here we are—again, in the role of being the witness to history.
So… Now… at this time of the year, when coming in from the season’s shortened days and cold weather, after work or play, may we consider this: that when we sit down to take a meal with family or friends; or when we draw a bath for our children or read them a story, while lying in bed together, again these same simple rituals, before turning off the lights and wishing our loved ones pleasant dreams, can we remember to keep Kateryna and the millions of men, women and children of the Ukraine in our thoughts—knowing they would love to be doing these very same things?