I was watching a video posted by an online acquaintance from Siberia, and it brought back a memory that I find amusing. My first wife was Russian. I don't mean her ancestors were from Russia. She was. Born and raised. To make matters more interesting, she grew up in the old Soviet Union. We had a lot of cultural differences to contend with, at every level. Those who might have been around us then will probably remember that she and I did not get along at all when we first met. In fact, within minutes of meeting each other, we got into a shouting match. It wasn't the last. One day I saw her waiting for a bus as I drove by, going in the opposite direction. I honked and waved, trying to be polite and friendly. Later, she gave me hell for not turning around to offer her a ride. It wasn't like I might have had something more important to do - like work. One night I ran into her at a party. Her presence made an already unbearable social situation worse, so I started making p...
Short stories, essays, ramblings, musings, and other such nonsense.