The Golden Edge

                Art and non-fiction novel
By Svetlana Savitsky
               
               
             Dedicated to the 70th anniversary of my friends - writer
               Morgan Volodya and his muse - Tatyana with love   

   In spring porcelain Arctic unclenched his jaw-chilling, incredulously letting rare ships admire jagged white teeth coastal cliffs. No rays-lasers burning the last fear, the sun of freedom irresistible impulses to penetrate through the skin and muscle to the bone and throbbing in the arteries of the heart. Freed from the drizzling curtain Leningrad, Black and Blue Ocean, enthralling motion shaft-swingers, and allowed themselves to be stroked, and perhaps daunting iridescent white snowflakes, it is unclear how, and on what a cloud-filters through the dazzling sun screen.
   Starboard of the ship surfaced whale - very close up of water and froze. Snowflakes melted on it. Steam was rising from the body.
   - He - live! - Volodya struck the main idea. - It's warm!
   Black huge monster, the real dimensions guessed only the soul was like aboard spongy rubber boats.
   - How old is he? – Volodya thought. - Forever!
   Small mammal attentive eye literally scanned the human soul. For a minute, as in an incredible dream, they communicated.
   - Here I am the boss! - Quite clearly for a man thought a whale. And thought it was just as obvious Volodya, as you know his heart is in the Arctic powerful solar flows.
   - I just came to see - Volodya thought - I'm a journalist. I did not make you feel bad.

   - I'm on a sturdy ship, - said the man. - I have long forgotten how to fear. And ... I'm free!
   - This is not your boat! This is my toy! And if you believe that freedom, describe the conversation! Try to tell the truth! - Ocean giant snorted, just laughed, leaned a little to the boat, alone fin, demonstrating the strength and Volodya barely stay on his feet - so possessed under his feet deck.
   - Your fins - this hand? - Volodya was surprised by the unexpected opening and grabbed the handrail.
   A whale plunged into its depths. Probably, it’s very deeply. Within the water column clanked, creaked loudly, and then just clicked the anchor chain on deck: the deep sea is the owner said something in his own way, like a whale. But the man decided that the animal is much larger than the size of the ship, found a lost land axis, and spread it on a rusty carving to the opposite side of the world.
    Volodya darted across the deck, hoping to see a miracle again. Where there! Vainly! Only ship, like a paper, rock on calming "puddle" among the pack ices.
    In the cabin, telling the boatsman, that just as a man speaks with a whale, puzzled mustachioed uncle is not a joke, Volodya took a notebook and wrote down a few lines for the newspaper. But that in fact, what line it turned out that the whale is right: two write - three in mind!
   Working as a special correspondent, Vladimir never gave that shook in expeditions actually - her own feelings. It does not remain in the frame of the "socialist reality". For strip reversal was enough: who-where-when and how much. What is the temperature? What are the communities?   What are the Lighthouses?..
And really wanted!
To the coast two days go. So, the boatsman said.
Texture for his small newspaper abound. The benefit of the soviet ship has a sea library. And stretching out his legs, from breakfast to lunch and from lunch to dinner, he once again read and reread the book about the lake of Captain Grant, on the banks of the pathfinders of Ontario, of the mysterious island of treasures. Learn whether he is to write so exciting?
   Mentally climbing the ribs, singing radio:
   "The fourth day of the blizzard rocks Dixon
   But what you mean better song ask diligently ...”
   I wonder if it is possible; if in fact, question the song? She what? Live?
   He was walking along Northern Sea Route in the ship "writers". He lived in a cabin where at one time was gathering impressions Konstantin Simonov.
   Ringing time, frozen, as is the northern ship slowed down, nice. How he loved those moments, waiting for them. The whole life of the sea was somehow "across the wool." Fast, so fast that you can say about it - unconsciously quickly, because there was no time to just stop. Think! Feel! Resolve itself without loud agitation radio and quiet whisperings relatives. And had to live, live, live, work, work, work, life and work quickly to eat, sleep, and again - live - work - eat, sleep, in a vicious circle continuously scroll through hour after hour, day after day, month after month, year after year ... and then what, when read to the crust?
  Maybe, after all, while he is on shaky palpable line between sea and sky, better to remember everything from the beginning?
   Just did not want to deal with memoirs. Thoughts, the same like life, are going over the layers of blanket covers of past dreams: one, two, and three.   And pointed somewhere to himself: "Duvet covers"! It is night. But the tablecloths! These are the days. And then the closets - these are months.
   Then apartments - these are years. And then the five-year plans - these are the cities... Sometimes, having noticed a speck, his mind stopped on some episode and began with some relish detail, painfully, as if freed from the illusions of youthful extremism. Oh, the speck on perfect canvas of biography has been put ... but oh, by the way, and the wrong time ... What a pity. What a pity! And what happened?
  And off we go. And it is not until years, not months, to either to days. Seconds and minutes, as scrap, roll in foil, drowning in an ocean of thoughts slowly. And it's desire: to recognize irregular jumps of time it became the only time, in fact, like it or not, and oddities occur with time. Then floated it down with the ship, he has to grow wings and flying time over land without looking back. But here's the paradox! When the time was lived hard and long, I remember in bulk - whole pile of those most duvet covers or enclosures or apartments, or scrap, tied in a knot and immediately run in the bottom of the times.
   It turned out that only a free element of the sea gave the freedom of thought, freedom of consciousness, deliberation, and maturity. Unusual image was born unconventional thinking. But how is it? May you say, for the sake of God, how in three lines of mandatory news can you accommodate all volume of a gigantic minute of conversation with a whale? How to transfer to those who wait on the shore, that the bottom of the boat for the night industry icicles sharp teeth, and the ship became like a grizzled old sea dog, or rather, a dragon, ready to roll in overnight and will not emerge?
   Vladimir concentrated and in a moment gave the broadcast the following: "At 23 July, in the Kara Sea on the traverse Dickson Island just to the right on the course of our cargo ship Abakanforest from the depths of the ocean suddenly surfaced burning blue neon light a huge block of Silurian ice of Paleozoic era and made a request:
-Hey, on board! What are you doing and where you're going?
At this time in the wardroom of Abakanforest gathered all crew who was free of the watch. At this time in the wardroom gathered all crew who was free of the watch. Here is began the trade union meeting."
And further - the report on two hundred newspaper lines.
  Radioman prayed:
  - Vladimir, your texts are broadcast openly, they read all the trade and sailors of the Navy, including divers, and - very important people from the Chief of Staff of the Northern Sea Route ... Could you write your sentences easier?
   Full namesake journalist, merchant navy captain Vladimir Ivanovitch Karaserv, slashed even steeper:
  - I'm the latest navigation and go into retirement. Let me make this easy. Sailors laugh!
   Vladimir said:
   - We, dear Vladimir, in the officers' mess-room log book is a humorous "Best Marine chatter on our ship." Then let them go on duty daily rewrites and my bikes. For me it would be a great honor.
Perhaps ice floe or whale, or unclear in some depth here or heavenly forces over there did not like the conversation, because of something rocks suddenly on board the "steel worker" so aggressively that there was a hole. The greatest some ice floe really slammed its invisible bottom beak to steel plating of ship, to proportional protection, that has name Ice belt. In the hold poured ice-cold water.
   At such moments, inevitably recall and "Titanic," and God and the Devil. And inevitably recall the whale at the same time to the heap. Volodya as everything rushed to help the crew. And the time braided into a single rope. Who checked the boats ready for launching on the surface; others controlled the supply of food and life jackets, steel kegs of drinking water on board. And in the dark cargo hold, with no rubberized suits, waist-deep in the cutting cold water, the team scored holes in wooden private security firms. Sailors were surprised at how powerfully and tirelessly worked journalist heaviest sledgehammer, and then that with what gusto and joy of the incident he described all this in their reports, as well as that warmed sailors in the mess "sea" tea half with rubbing alcohol from the ship's hospital.
   Not once during the Northern Expedition, and then, before the bears been seen in the Arctic.
    According to the ship's loudspeaker system, a voice of the watch from the bridge:
   - Attention to members of the crew! At present observation on the right side we have a prototype cartoon Umka-bear. Those who want a friendly chat with a male polar bear can get to the venue!
   Or:
   - Warning! Attention! Special attention for experienced sailors! Here is white female-bear with two year old baby-bears! Those who want to knock nails on the deck, please, to pass off to the left side the ship.
   Well, they do not write about it? Or, for example, as not write how unusual, magical, enchanting experience has on people alone menacingly silent a nuclear-powered icebreaker. On modern machines there are no shipping tubes with their usual smoke exhaust; nuclear-powered icebreakers going through the ice, breaking them without any apparent effort. Oh, and in the descriptions of the flashes of the Polar Lights our journalist outstripped Rockwell Kent!
    Sailors from their order transported Volodya from ship to ship by helicopter to view him the "live" like a miracle. The writer went on nuclear-powered ships.
But after returning from the "Ice circumnavigation” Vladimir Ivanovich has been very criticized at an editorial meeting like horse in the tail and the mane.
He growled:
- Sailors - by nature of romance. And there is nothing to turn their work into a commercial routine!
    
    ***   
   Old Leningrad met him tobacco smog in editorial cabinets.
   - Oh! The Rig-n-Rolls arrived! - Aslan chuckled.
   Volodya called him Kozlan (Billy-goat). The bad boy half of his age being seated on a stable salary, because he was a communist, and gave monthly only five or six lines of news. And then on this "garbage" worked yet technical editor and editor of the literary, head editor, three correctors. But on newspaper pages all the same the errors of this mediocre steadily infiltrated. And no one thought to dismiss this "wonder of the world" as hairy hand uncle from almost the Kremlin supported him invisibly.
   As a nonparty man Volodya, has been sent away for essays, to all the "sunny resorts," even to the top of Pamir. After followed next three days as Levite gave share under percentage of his life he was indebted to put down seven to ten pages a good material. His creative breath is enough for that. But for the Whale it was not enough. Because two or three days of continuous work with supplementary feeding in the form of custard cakes, just cream cakes and coffee, coffee - oceans of drink - knocked brain. After the delivery of the material Volodya died down, too, slept for three days. Therefore he did not write stories or novels. Some essays, a series of short stories, but not ringed great artistic form.




    The same fate was with his personal life. "Good things not be called marriage" - he laughed off...
   Leningrad met and The White Nights, too. What in them mysterious? Turbidity and grays! Again new task and again it was Moscow station full of visitors, arriving, departing ... Narrow upstairs to the second floor to the ticket office. Volodya steps over the sleeping on the flow dirty people. Strange, where did they all come from?
     Again recorded in a small notebook a few phrases.
    While he was at sea, something is greatly changed. What? The people, as crazy, stands in queues for eggs, laundry detergents, alcohol, bread. Now for all of this give on coupons. Why do people using so much soap? Crazy! Either this is a provocation. And something serious is coming.
Fellow journalist A. Nevzorov, the next member of People Academy and State Duma deputy, slightly husky, grinning, assertively broadcasts pour "the box for fools" in his program "600 Seconds," as disgusting live in Russia, in St. Petersburg.
The whale turned the planet and not the whale, but the confusion buzzed around as worried hive...
   Volodya joined up to the tail of the queue, protruding from the supermarket. Got the words:
- The oil gives. And, if you're lucky, may be a meat...
The queue quietly and intelligently, still yet as on Leningrad talks. One lady to the other:
   - Yesterday for us gave large parcels from Hamburg on identifications for families with many children. Yellow they are. Wow, well done the Germans! And you go. All give. There's sugar just extraordinary. And chocolate with nuts! And flour! They probably think that we're dying of hunger. I too decided to collect at the parcel for them. But they did not give me them address...
   Nearest by sedately men spoke:
- Our Sugar, also known as Saharevich and Zuckerman immigrated to Israel. Perhaps, in Leningrad soon remains only one Jew: cruiser Aurora...
From far away came the sound of country ditty:
   - Very good, that Yu. Gagarin
   Not a Jew and not Tatarin,
   Not chuchmek and not gentleman.
   He is simple Soviet man...
   Near granny loud whisper whistle commands like at war to his hunchback companion:
- Just go to the both two sides. You could go to meat. I`ll go to milk. Those who survived the Blockade takes all and ever without waiting! And in the war, I remember, that people ate human meat!  You walk to market and afraid: what will mistake! A human meat, it is the same as pig. Fat lays on the edge. Then here is salo. Only gray patina covers on it. And sweet it is. So we distinguished.
    Vladimir looked back. He saw followed him portly aunt, and vividly presented her in a cut with fat ... Nausea. And it`s swung. He estimated the time, how much more he will stay on the tail of the queue. Counted pensioners and prospective beneficiaries, decided that the meat all the same not enough for all and made his way to the Tauride Palace. He said to himself that now and again he came to his stack of duvet covers.
   The sun just occurred through the clouds. Volodya chuckled: the long night as at the Arctic.  But here, in Leningrad – it`s the whole life looking as gloomy year under a gray decayed blockade greatcoat.
   From Finland Gulf punched in the face flurry of tuberculosis and piercing wind. Coughed spasms like tonsillitis pedestrians. Chilly twitched his wet fur the skinny little dog on a leash tied to the hammer bow fence. Dusty grass in squares around trees flattened his long bunny ears, not wanting to part with a sticky suspension, which strewed the road from spring to spring. And from semi basements pulled out old-century dampness, and steadfast never weathered here a cat litters.
   The heart has been stopped by gray melancholy.  Glance of Vladimir rushed to the sky, where the wind is fast and always the same painting a watercolor one after another using instead the grisaille a blurred carbon black.
  From the wide-opened window came the demanded song Viktor Tsoi:
- In our laughter and our tears and venous pulsations ... Change, we are waiting for change...

***   

Vladimir passed stereotypical stone houses, built monotone square bags, where there are no trees, no grass, just a bag in a bag in the asphalt and stone. They have always been proud of sad poetry always sleepy, but in spite of this, the revolutionary northern city.
    - Leningrrrrrad! Leningrrrrrad! I still do not want to die! - From above thundered Alla Pugacheva in the style of Edith Piaf, rolling r-r-r-r into "the foil".
   But from it, to breathe was easier.  First appeared parkway called Tauride garden with old elms and cropped grass in the manner of European standards around Palace. Outside, it is a classically simple, but inside - an incredible luxury.
  It is here, in the Tauride Palace, in the former residence of His Serene Highness Prince Gregory Potemkin during the October Revolution were party conventions. And then until the 1990 year the Leningrad Higher Party School housed here. Side by side with her located the House of Education, in which regularly arranged "creative" pumping seminars for journalists and other spiritual artists of the second capital under signature of the turnout.
   At the end of XVIII century at the Catherine Hall of the Tauride Palace, its owner, Prince Potemkin staged lavish balls at least three thousand people. And the Empress Catherine was a frequent visitor here. And in the eighties of the XX century in the Tauride Palace the boss almost the entire Soviet country Gregory Romanov arranged the wedding of his daughter. For this "responsible measures" he took in the Hermitage Royal dinner service and half of it has not returned. Sensation about it published the German magazine Der Spiegel. European radio Liberty and Voice of America story retold in the Political Bureau showered letters of angry communists.
   Volodya suddenly saw a poster on the fence and looked at the wristwatch. Still before the Tauride performance was yet a time. He wrote down off the fence "just in case" in his cherished copy-book for any future reporting:
   "Stahovich A. How and whom to choose in the State Duma? What is the party elections?. - M.: Type. T-va I.D. Sytin, 1907. "What demand from the elected official in the State Duma? I mentioned above in the end about how many people should demand from their elected representatives in the State Duma. Focus now on this in more detail. Of course, first of all, a future member of the Duma should know the needs of all those who choose, that is to say most people - peasants and workers to be an honest man, unshakably solid, steadfast belief that with all my heart and soul have stood for the peasant needs - not betray them. Just as important, if not more important is that the chosen one would consciously relate to the future of its legislative work in the State Duma. The first condition does not have to go to the detriment of the second"…
    At this time on the stage of the Tauride Palace released combative young representative from the regional committee of party in white shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Began his report and it is more like a campaign stop to all Union and the jerk out of the border. With enthusiasm he gave his impressions of a short stay in capitalism as tourist and in five-star hotels:
    -They got nobody steals!
   Someone close to Volodya responds from the gallery:
   -Because they have everything and a reasonable price.
   -No, because they're working at full capacity!
   But in the gallery do not give up:
   -Because they have a merciless competition and a sweating system.
   Lecturer:
   -Well, I do not know how to work and do not sweat!
   From the gallery:
   -What about the dream of mankind of free labor?
   Lecturer:
   - And you are there in the gallery, stand up, show them who is there so smart? What is your name? And surname. Where do you work? 
  Walking after such mandatory seminars about the Tauride Garden, Volodya intently frowned. There is something to think seriously.

 
  ***   
  Soviet Union bulges at the seams. This said to all that it was falling apart. But the impression was that the decay process by experienced puppeteers. From of a single source of finance was going a series of strong provocations. It was one by with one and non-stopping.   Arrive the dark times of change.
   The industry got up. The peasants folds over. Ceased support science and intellectuals. Teacher's salary was equal to the cost per kg of sausage.
  The Red Army was mocked and humiliated. For the officers have made benefit - free travel on public transport. And the buses stopped braking, if drivers saw at the bus station the lieutenants or even the colonels!
   Yes that there chauffeurs the bars, pubs and taverns prostitutes did not sit down on officer knees! Why would they beggars erratic, cursed and betrayed the country?
By decrees of Mikhail Gorbachev in the country has been cut down centuries-old vines, and then massively flooded the domestic market imported powdered wine and alcohol notorious Royal". Vine was destroyed by the roots, and in Bulgaria and all countries of the socialist camp. The famous Rose Valley of Kazanlik was like a wasteland ... Mikhail Gorbachev for the collapse of the system, appropriate to the plan, received the Nobel Prize.
   Thanks to the efforts of Anatoly Sobchak were blocked factories and collective farms producing meat and vegetables. Peasants were not allowed to come to cities. They could not sell themselves a single gram of harvest. Markets are flooded chemical chips, Coca-Cola. And basically helpers delivered the Bush Legs. It was America's strategic reserves thawed and thrown to the territory of Soviet Union in order to ignorant population use this shit fabricated fifty years ago, and blackening on the griddle. Streets filled piles of junk called second-hand, but for the money, of course, not free. Residents of the USSR tried on castoffs of West.
  People used the food products dangerous for life. The same like the countries of third world. Corrupt mass media give information that opposite to truth. World government triumphed. Economically, the country turned into a raw material appendage. Rattle by advertising: "We are so dressed, because we are so drink our beer!" Redneck put forward at the forefront. Bet has been made to block the intellectuals, on spread ignorance, on credulity, stupidity and ignoble instincts of the general population. Bet has been made correctly.
    While Vladimir shied among his problems, not understanding what has happening at this time around Leningrad and Moscow was killed 17 thousand villages. Death by starvation came as many-armed as and multinational. It was going on all fronts. Undertakers and gravediggers get rich. Death rate exceeded the birth rate.
   Devaluation was combined with a furious rise of prices, with paralysis of the banking system. The people cried. They were thrown in anger impaired Soviet money from the gallery of Market Yard where before that time the paid dissidents scattered the leaflets.
   The main front was dark and unclear.
   After started attacks the information partially opened up that in the republics fueled nationalism. Kazakhs pressed Russians from Kazakhstan, changed the names of his cities, such as Tselinograd to some Astana erasing the memory of Russian assistance and called the help as the yoke. Russians escaped from everywhere, throwing the apartments, good and real estate. And the government never supported refugees. Baltics an annual returned to the treasury only one billion instead of two. They destroyed monuments to soviet soldiers who liberated them from German fascists. Raised the mercenary tails some people on Ukraine and Belarus, Armenia and Georgia.
    Chechnya has been chosen to host the war. It was worked out on practice the theory of international terrorism.
   Instead of Lenin atheism who in the 17th year destroyed more than 20 million men in the fratricidal civil war and received a right to be as a mummy buried in a granite heart conquered Russia from the non-existence of the cellars were extracted dusty Gods.
   For seed in the nets under the bottom of the ocean ships were unnoticed imported millions of copies printed on special paper the Christian Bible and the Koran. Very thin parchment leaves in the water stick together, but on the ground they take normal. People who do not read and do not delving into the meaning, mindless herd threw the church baptized. On sale there were crosses with the wand for the crucifixion.
  Suddenly, out of nowhere appeared synagogues, churches and mosques. As from the sky millions and billions of dollars fold down to the restoration of monasteries and cathedrals. Party bosses carefully crossed themselves, sometimes with both hands and got double or even triple citizenships.
   In parallel with these actions on the underground market from the West rushed pornography on video cassettes. The Playboy and any other like Burda started publishing in the mass copies. The Orthodox Church, as Indian tribes in America, received the right to sell duty-free vodka and cigarettes. So, with one hand spreading malware products, the other hand, Church let go sins.
   - Repent! - Broadcasts Christianity – Because you are the slaves of God, and to all of you is the original sin!
    - Repent - cried pagans - because 1000 years ago, you have betrayed our ancient Russian Gods, so Russia is still on the knees!
    And only those who have been streamed the money not were going to repent. As known, the grandson of Cain really prayed to Mammon, and he commanded to rejoice over any multiplied state.
   Blue Screens of TV were flooded by soap operas. It was Just Mary or some kind of Slave Izaura. As well as a criminal series and not completed even now. It was such as the City of Broken Lights. After them came the mass publications of Bibles and Psalms, and stories of some martyrs (and in Russia all people are martyrs!). They flooded the cultural space. Importantly, as was sung in one of the songs: that is for "the citizens did not climb on barricades."
   Distribution system of Union Print collapsed. And here already in kiosks mutually exclude each other sticks out proclamations. They call Russians to revenge for the death of Sergey Esenin and the same time they call Jews to be careful because Russians want to arrange them a new St. Bartholomew night for the all of their sins.
   Interest that nobody has yet knew nothing about the big plans of the West on a new labor force, needed by Israel and the United States, Germany and Canada. The people easy succumb to provocations and were glad that got rid of The Communist Plague.
   A thimble game for vouchers heavily flooded on Russia. Population, trusting commercials TV, listened, hanging ears, that it would be necessary to put the voucher in any enterprise business. And, if you bought a lot of vouchers, you will become part owner of a large company.   If you put a voucher in the First Pension Fund, after 60 years you will get such a big pension. But on a quarterly basis you need to fund some money just to retirement. If you do not agree with something of the items, you need to pay some money to notary public and after that he put the lawyer stamp Claims and send your letter to such address in Moscow. 
   The people, of course, divided in their views, not understanding that where throw in this game - everywhere wedge. Someone immediately changed their vouchers to the bottle. Someone brought them in some enterprise, which through month or two burned and another bankrupted. And someone brought to the First Pension Fund or the First Voucher Fund, which dead in Bose after six months. And all not to find!   
   In order to distract people from the alteration of property, the mass media released on the chessboard the tours and the horses as Kashpirovsky, Chumak and Mavrody. Up to full credibility they pulled Mister Solzhenitsyn and gave him the Nobel Prize. The same as gave it to Gorbachev.   
   Spontaneously born nihilism abused all - communism, socialism, capitalism – and that position has become the norm in the nineties years.
To top of it next Gorbachev amnesty released a banditos. And from now the red jackets of the New Russians got into a series of anecdotes.

   ***
  So, everything was going according to some plan. Leningrad, at these very pores, that supplies cities of food and consumer goods are not worse than other, feeling pretty torpid along from shortage. He was stunned by the presence of criminals and become uncontrollable revolutionary herd.
   1991 year came. From Moscow called that on streets came out the tanks...
   No one understood. Especially creative people, who found themselves not demanded. No place to publish. Space for printing was almost nonexistent. Six to eight magazines for 250 million! Authors waited the publication of their books for 15 years.
   At that time Vladimir hard cohabited with a woman "in love" to take on the education of her two daughters in the living husband. Not forgetting his two boys from the old women he grew, learned, put the girls to their feet: the eldest - the engineer, the youngest - a nurse. However, as a result of clashes in the society, suddenly found that he lived at random, and that his favorite woman - Georgian Jewish. And it suddenly, after all the previous international education society, was reprehensible.
   Once a day his eldest stepdaughter unexpectedly returned from her work.
   - What is it?
   - Our Head announced that Jews cannot come to work. That Leningrad preparing for mayhem...
    - Come on!
For end the family found: it seems to be true. The police were alerted and the Ministry of Internal Affairs Divisions, sports clubs. But it remained unclear which side these divisions, because one of the main party members in Leningrad was a convinced anti-Semite. Leningrad Jews rushed to change their place of residence. 
   Volodya had two cars - for his wife and him. A few times neighbors repeatedly poked his wheels like beast: "damn private owner in green-black-red Lada." They would have just come off on them for a sweet soul. Even brave boyfriend of stepdaughters rushed off somewhere. For three days and three nights Volodya had placed him new Jewish family at the other end of town, in the apartment of his second wife, who lived with her youngest son Sergei in a three room. The memorial plaque needs to hang at this apartment and this building.
  The refuges and hosts – all six - sat quietly. A weapon for protection was only tourist hatchet and gas canister. The younger brother of Vladimir came to help. He was a sailor and had just returned from a trip. Sasha brought the edge barrel cut shotgun with cartridges. In Italian it means “lupara”. Those kinds of weapon usually keep under wear. Men were on duty all nights for two hours, as in the army. Volodya remembered light of lanterns through tightly pressed up curtains on the windows. And steel shotgun with two barrels, which seemed of this light as gold ... gold edge - this way, and his sword, and the power of the gods, planted in genetics. It is a philosophy and life. It is a dream and reality.
   Finally, Jews dared to return at their homes.
On a betony fence of the entrance and exit points from Leningrad to the Moscow railway station began to play the red graffiti by giant characters, full the rare foreign paint from spray cans: “Jews! Go to Israel, "Jews - out of Russia!”
   Slogans, in principle, are not dangerous. And deep down, Volodya knew. But here was just a question: “A night cuckoo over cuckoo a day cuckoo or no?” Fear of his wife and daughters grew stronger from each indirectly snatched parts of the crowd.
   In the subway they fill themselves more terrible every day. Sometimes they wildly scary, because it was not clearly whence in the subway lobbies appeared shaved thugs, wearing in a black leathers, a high cap, and red and white swastikas on bandages. The boys with cheerful faces and neo-fascist slogans where sounded terrible and ancient forgotten word “Russia”. Jewess seemed threatening. The boys cram to the passengers printed on the cheapest paper sheets which burned the hands.
   Other lads glued over metro wagons by flyers against abortion.
   On TV fountained propaganda of unbridled lifestyle and mass advertising condoms. Many understood that all activities are aimed some secret organizers. They wanted the chaos, and to live in these conditions is not wished.
   Of course, immediately after the clearest threats to the Jews, all of them quickly came to Moscow to the Israeli embassy for fake guest invitations to visit to Mediterranean and then they urgently turned to their Local Police Department for documents. The second Exodus had begun.
  It was no life but only the expectation of life.

  ***
  Near the Western Wall, which was built by yet King Herod, the Wailing Wall, Volodya thought: "How? Why so fast and time flies so poorly? Who stole it? Five years he, a Russian man, survives in Israel as a shadoof with clipped wings in a small nest of titmouse.  Some delirium!  The fifteen protracted nobility life painfully flashed as dusty pillow in desert. Maybe that's enough?"
   He touched the ancient stones. Could it help? No? He listens to stones. No. Here is only a void. He has had to decide himself.
  To cry at the Wailing Wall was not wanted. And these “fire letters” not yet appeared.
  Volodya began to scroll his life events in order to clear from what started his woes. Maybe they started from that moment as he avidly swallowed book after book in parents’ house on the top of Sakhalin sugarloaf in city Kholmsk? Convicted sites...
    One day a neighbor found in the attic of his home a few abandoned tomes. Knowing that Vladimir likes to read, he immediately brought them to the boy. But scares parents have been ready in Siberian exile, and never kept any books in the "family home". They don`t like the attempts to write of them son. Mom tore to pieces all of his written, cried and wailed over him as he is dead:
   -Volodya, my dear son! I beg you, do not write anything! They will kill you!
    Not knowing the authors, the content, and not having any idea what dangerous book, Vladimir hiding them in different places in the house: under the foundation, the ledge in a chicken coop and pigsty. This occurred at the edge of the earth, in a seedy district town, under the eighth grade (because after they moved to a city apartment). But now he remembered the books: The Decameron, The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, Martin Eden and The Iron Heel by Jack London, the poems of Alexander Polezhayev, Tyutchev and Fet - a rare selection! Not in the every public library there are the same books.
  Volodya was sitting on a small prickly and slippery slope of a hill the bamboo, resting his feet in some bushes without a name, so as not to slip, and that was not visible from the outside, it reads.
   
"I have done –
Put by the lute.
Song and singing soon are over
As the airy shades that hover
In among the purple clover.
I have done - Put by the lute.
Once I sang as early thrushes
Sing among the dewy bushes;
Now I'm mute.
I am like a weary linnet,
For my throat has no song in it;
I have had my singing minute.
I have done.
Put by the lute."

   He received a shocking blow to the envy of the good life. "How can it be so easy to be able to write, - he thought - and a person can feel as hard! But nature, it was invented in a poem or a real one?"
   Volodya looked at the miserable tenacious shrub in which he baulked his feet, and could not identify the name or the color of the stem and the structure of the cortex, either in the form of leaves. He had already worked with a kind of botany book, The Identification of Plants, but "shrub" in it was not listed...
   And there is almost no vegetation. Nearly tacit Western Wall built by that Herod - just rocks and dust. Here is only stupefying heat. And around here are only the weeping songs of Israel. Can somebody ask him, these songs? What all these people cry and pray milling here? About money, health or is it about love?
    Love... He was in preschool age in the town Volkovysk in the Western Belarus. He loved the angelic girl named Elsa. They rolled on sleds from the railway embankment with departure to the highway and a truck hit the girl... This bloody spectacle, which he unsuccessfully banished all his life, now for the millionth time rose again before his eyes.
   And then dusty, smell up of coal and oil small town in Sakhalin named Mining plant (Gornozavodsk) with the division into Lower Town on the coast of Japan Sea and Upper Town near the hills. The river was the cloaca of the oil wastes. It was spring of his the fifth grade. She - the girl from the parallel class, the daughter of school mistress. Daring, dusk Vladimir takes his chromatic harmonica (a great achievement!), sticks in his cap a bunch of white lilac, dragged across the bridge from the Upper to the Lower City and finds the necessary house. The godlike in profile, she plays the piano at a window opened in the green garden.
   Having waited a pause, Volodya bravely starts his coarse song – couplets of Nicolay Kurochkin from the movie "Wedding with a dowry":
- Because of you, my cherry, I quarrel with a friend,
Because the local climate very influential in love...
   On the porch appears angry paunchy father, its local king and god - he the chief of the entire district. Of course, he does not ask the boy to visit, he menacingly matter in space, because it does not see the light from the darkness.
     Her name is Adele. Since then, and has become a tradition: what he - that is not, and if it is, it is - no. By the way, next month parents transported Volodya to another city by railroad. How knows if were they right in them choice?
   Was the Volodya himself right, when decided to take his wife and two stepdaughters at some prehistoric homeland, where, at least, the Jews as a people in the majority? Is he right to themselves, taken together, and his life in this godforsaken place, once the "promised"? Cry whether he is not there at the Western Wall? No. Why? Will the wall to take someone's tears? And someone who has promised to fulfill every desire to stupid?
   That's old man Izia. He prays to send him some money. Here's aunt Rachel, she asks the God to send her some money. Here are two friends Sarah and Leah, asking God to send them some money. Where can I take them to all the Jews? Only God knows. And do not perform prayers at the Western Wall.
    So what is possible in this case to talk to him? Maybe just leave her there, not her "girls", and the most coveted hit the road in Europe, merge by soul with the Antiquities and worth of the human hand and mind, learn something new, previously unknown, but from Europe, he said, and you can walk to Russia .
  Thus we will assume that the "creative business trip" too long.
What was the initial work?
   Together with his father Ivan and under him leadership, beginning from age of five years, to all his life in the Grand Union, he put the whole aspen-birch wood, hammered steel spikes into railroad tracks, built five private homes. He knew how to cut, plane, carry, dig, "a square roll and carry round", load and unload, drive nails, put fences, hew logs, working with a chisel and a drill, make the beds and put on the greenhouse, weed and hoe hands, plant potatoes under a shovel and a plow - well, anyway ... In elementary school he was making ships in a circle modelers, pasted gliders and petrol aircraft in aviation circle, becoming older, equipped radio studio at his middle school, put the telephone switchboard and conducted by telephone in each class. At home, he collected homemade astronomical instruments, including a map of the sky and telescope training, and later with the help of his father built himself a home-made scuba diving under drawings of the journal "Science and Life". In St-Petersburg, before leaving, Volodya was employed on his own car and carried the film studio director, how in the payment days paid to him employees by boxes of champagne instead of money. Also were transported to the city  the goods of black marketers, drunks, thieves and profiteers, prostitutes, lesbians, homosexuals and Armenians with footwear products from "Masis"...
   Man earns a living by working as a man, a woman - a woman.
   Volodya was once an owner of a semi-house. He bought for his first wife. But she did not like that. Because off without the "urban services." On that they parted.
   In Israel certainly as a journalist, he immediately flew to the newspaper. He writes couple of articles about the plight of Russian immigrants in a hot climate, stressing that the mass exodus of the Union may lead to the death of a nation called "Russian Jews." Apparently, someone did not like something right away, and to Vladimir Ivanovich was honesty stated:
   - Volodya, do not you see, you are not a Jew. Please, give the Jewish these Jewish affairs. Somehow do understand...
      In Israel it, Gentile, was ashamed to sit on a government benefit for people with higher education. He was trying to earn money, save them and buy a house. It happened. He bought an apartment. Now it spends the rest of the life of his third ex-wife.
   Before Israel the writer has owned an electric and gas welder crusts, diploma teachers, journalistic experience and experience as a head near and far mail trains. "When I was at the post Coachman ..."
   Drop out the attempts to become a Jews national journalist genius, Volodya tried lives as an advertising agent, independently collecting, trading, manipulating, outbid, and buying advertising space in various newspapers. Only manipulator with direct-flow brain does not happen in nature. Neither so after he mercilessly advertising insured Jews nor how much in vain. Then he washed the dishes in the restorations and rose to assistant chef-cook.
  After all he polished an asphalt floor by mop, on local lung "matate" in industrial hangars. That was mean he worked on "nikayone." As the Red Army reservist and expert analyzed unsold masks, check them for suitability, screwed again, packed in boxes and stacked on pallets for the Israeli army and for all Jewish people throughout all Israel.
   Lover of Botany and Dendrology, he worked as the gardener as a hero from movie Slave Izaura. He raked "bulls" from urban lawns. Like a monkey he climbed to the tops of trees, removing twigs that prevent for some villa owners, he sawed by Friendship, carried on him back the heavy as cast iron, trunks and twigs of orange trees on clearing old orange plantations.
   Later, in the open air, he produced and bottled in a bottle, in a jar of bubbles and hot synthetic glue, brewed from a mixture of magnesium, aluminum and other all chemicals from the Europe on small factory between Jaffa and Tel-Aviv, supplies the glue throughout the all Arabian Middle East.
    Volodya remained fit, slim and handsome high Kazak with bright eyes and even row of teeth.
     - You really offended the Soviet authorities. They have not given you desired profession! - Eyed him from head to foot with undisguised regret Jewish cabinetmaker at the labor exchange.

   ***
   Several times Volodya had to fight in the fists with the local "vatiks" and "sabras" (the Jews, the Arabs, on the service and beyond) for trying to humiliate or insult, or refusing to pay salary for the work days. He - the athlete, a reserve officer and never scratched fists hurl. Although the people good knows: The world admires the beauty, patience and hard work of Russian women, and Russian men have been and remain the number one fighters.
   On the glue factory Volodya with noise and thunder managed to fill up of three flown him attackers. Their ringleader was the bearer of brown belt karate.
   There, on that glue factory, there was a following unsolvable situation. The factory canteen was separated from the rest rooms plywood partition but missing about five feet to ceiling. During the lunch break, "kosher" Jews dined first together with their "kosher" cousins Muslims - each from their bags.
  After that the "kosher workers" transition to the recreation room to play cards or "Shesh-Besh". Secondarily in the dining room entered the second hand people.  Usually they were Russian Jews, who were "non-kosher" and often also simply not circumcised. All of these were elderly people intellectuals in Soviet Russia reached retirement age. But in Israel, they had retired to blow another five years. They suffocated from heat, chemicals and excessive physical exertion.
   While the former Soviet people quickly filled, the karatist belted with brown belt mockingly threw bulkhead nuts through the five feet to ceiling and pieces of wood. Once he broke face the old man. Volodya could not resist and went strictly warned about incorrect behavior. And in English, as he knew Hebrew too much abbreviated version. Then, watch for the defender of the oppressed in a secluded area between stacks, the enemy attacked him together. There are two yellow Jew and one Arab. But they received strong resistance from Volodya.
   Hearing about happening was held immediately. Volodya have been afraid the disaster.  But ironically from this time of unequal battle he has begun to promote to prosperity in a foreign country... Suddenly the Russian Vladimir Ivanovich was unexpectedly favored by the young Israeli soldiers and reserve officers, who some years ago participated in the Lebanon war. This man who already stepped half century in age, myopic, balding, in old tired glasses, was carefully put by veteran Israeli soldiers on what is called to duty. At first he was personally invited to manager of a large public security company Hashomer as the guard or the same security man. He underwent amateurs shooting in shooting club: lying down, on the run, from the elbow, from the car wheel, shooting and reloading the gun when wounded in the hand, pistol in both hands, shooting at multiple targets in a city cafe, supermarket and etc.
   Thanks to the care of these guys, he received the Israeli Interior Ministry permission to bear arms. One big gun Beretta was his duty weapons, and the other - a personal Browning, invisible, hanging under his arm to protect the service.
     Since that time Vladimir successfully protected the shops, banks, big factory and little factory, printing and law firms, radio dispatching ambulances and Goodness knows what else, this do not even mention. For example, he protected a mosque or a broken tractor-bulldozer on the side of the road carriageway. He has grown to manager...
     Of all, perhaps, I do not remember near the Crying Wall, crying.
   But I remember the story of instructor of shooting. He was young and fought in Lebanon. The commander of his battalion was a Russian major. In one of the battles they were surrounded. When there was no ammunition, and threatened certain death, Russian  suddenly jumped out of the trench with an empty revolver in his hand, pulled her from the waist up and sweaty shirt, stunning surroundings fierce: “You are the Mather Fakers!” Major rushed for bristling bayonets chain. Enemies in fear of Russian fled. Because of this confusion the Russian commander and his Jewish soldiers were rescued.
   - Remember, - said coach, - we do not love exactly you; we love only our commander in you.
    However, they are being clever, they loved and Volodya, chuckling at his recklessness and rough candor of judgment and actions and being proud of his Russian.
   Volodya has got expensive tinted sunglasses with diopters of myopia. He has got some fat and very good looked in jumper uniform with epaulettes in fringe.
- Okay! - Volodya thought in English and then realized: “hat I now think in English?”
   There were some funny stories. One evening he came to change another guard at house press. (It's all in Tel-Aviv). It has amended several Hebrew newspapers, printing, and space for dance hall - several floors with underground parking. All people ran to see the "Russian". Apparently, someone had alerted them. He feels himself as a slave.  They touched his shoulders, biceps, even trying to look in his mouth.
   -What are you, in fact, a Russian?
    -Yes, that's, - responsible Volodya, - my changer also Russian. He is Ivanov.
    - Well, do not tell me, - answer guys-Jews, – He is only paternal Ivanov!
    In general, people were satisfied by inspection and familiarity with Russian. Volodya mentally thanked God and my parents for their diligent work in production. In their Kazak family both the men and the women were all stately.
   Volodya wanted to break away from the Western Wall, but could not. He was as glued. It can be seen he said not at all from that it was necessary to say.
  As a dishwasher and a kitchen worker, he has enormous experience and expertise in Russia. He had knowledge all domestic work, including cooking, washing dishes. Cleaning the rooms in his family with five children was divided into duty weekly. He was on duty at the house from six years ago before school. And then the army ... The army does not exist without utensils. Volodya had strong hand. It easily handles steel pans, cast iron pans, and the heavy pan. He even liked the work.  And chefs liked this Russian. One of them, named David, kissed him, and wept because he fifteen years has not seen the Russian man. And a one Polish Jew, who was in the Warsaw ghetto, Soviet soldiers liberated, in the opinion of Russian identified, jumped from the information booth of a shop-center Shekem and fell to knees before Russian...
   Volodya professionally knew how to wash and rinse your dishes. And even once, fooling around, wrote a guide for countless former Soviet candidates to scientist, for junior and senior researchers...
He knew: an immigrant must have a strong stomach, strong hands and steel nerves. Desirable - a sense of humor. Otherwise – bad end to him!

   ***
   The time since that held "a thousand years". In Canada Volodya become a fun to play at casino. Immediately after he got a Canadian citizenship and got a "foreign" passport he with his new wife, Tatiana, overcoming fears the fears before the foreign guards and before The Devil of Game he crossed the border of the United States to see how the first official document working. With guided tours, by bus. Casino called Mohawk. Not only the dealer, but also managers and including all the staff were as Indians with braids, but not with fighting braids Iroquois. Volodya won and was in euphoric.
  In the next visit, Vladimir interviewed managers and wrote about casino Mohawk, published in a Russian newspaper. But Indians understand nothing.
   He liked Casino "Montreal" which includes not only a large park area with a botanical garden, but here the trees and bushes have plate with them names in the French, English and in Latin. That's where the freedom for curious people! And for free. In the city really Botanical Garden you need to pay money out for curiosity. But here in good weather, he usually put his car in the free casino garage and went for free to walk out in the security park.
   Writer especially liked powerful high trees with showing black bark and glossy broad leaves in the form of five-fingered royal diadems.
  -Here, Tatiana, look! - Enthusiastically exclaimed suddenly Volodya. -   This are Norwegian maples, they grow in England. It is beneath them nurture talent Charles Swinburne!
-Who was Swinburne?
And once again, Vladimir gladly explains:
-This is a great English poet XVIII century! Jack London liked him.
   One day, walking out through the alley Vladimir started to feel familiar smell. Íå several times twisted around its axis. And ... oh, my God! In front of him stuck out that memorable skinny Sakhalin bush with strange in appearance leaves. Vladimir had really read on the rating plate: «Maple Sachalinsky».
   With distinct shrill he recognized: Yesþ this is the same ones, under which he had read Jack London! Weak stalks the countryman doomed as fingers buried alive protruded from the ground. Vladimir sweeping gesture embraced all of them, tore peaked leaf, arid under pressure from the books, did a scan and has placed in the computer.
The next time the couple solemnly presented Sakhalin Maple bright garter belt "for resistance." And this day Volodya with Tanya for the first time in a casino game won, and no longer afraid, because they came here, they know here is living "them man".
   The next time the couple ceremonially presented to Sakhalin Maple the bright garters "for brave." And in that day both Volodya and Tanya they are for the first time in a casino game won, and no longer afraid.  Because now in Casino lived his owner man.
  - Morgan, hello! -  Restraint called him Gennady Dertkin - seasoned fellow journalist, the former worker of TACC in Georgia.
      The meeting took place in Toronto, in a Russian restaurant Arbat.
      - Is not it time, and it's time? - Recalling past acquaintance approached to the table Gennady. - That's it! Amba! It is unbearable to live without our self-newspaper.
   And all that memorable evening party at the restaurant of Arcady Kaplan fascinated Russian writer expounded the details his newspaper project.
     -We call our beauty newspaper The Young Street Review. As the longest street in the world, passing through Toronto!
     -It's not only the name, - tried to argue Volodya. – Usually the newspaper created to consolidate some forces which need to unite ... And what have we? Emigrant rabbles.
   - Ay, but where does it all! You're a talent! - Exclaimed the hearts Gennady. - You will have the opportunity to publish, to reveal to the reader! You do not know the value of his talent. Tell me, why are you too late come off from Leningrad?
  - So it was necessary to watch this movie until the end! You cannot miss the great opportunity to see history! - And Vladimir quoted from poet Fyodor Ivanovich Tutchev.
    "Blessed he who has visited this world
    His fateful minutes!
    He called by Commonweal
    Like the guest at the feast.
    He's their sights high viewer
    He admitted to their advice was -
    And alive, like the Gods,
    From the cup of the immortals drink! "

   But Gennady anyway pricked interlocutor:
   -Yes, you must understand, you're last. There is Georgia. There is Russia. I have worked as a special correspondent for Latvia. It is too. And then there is the whole world. Did you see the world? The whole world did you see?
   -No.
   -You see, you have not seen! There is a world, and there are the world’s values. We're just in time for these things and belong. And so we can multiply these values and influence the process at the global level, it is necessary to concentrate on the essentials.
   - And what most important thing?
   - The main thing - not give for anyone to make a fool of yourself! Look, here is an energy`s worker. And there is the energy of the peasant. There is an intellectual energy which in Russia everybody does not like. Why? Because this last is most importantly, as energy of consciousness, which always has been higher than the energy of the physical labor mistakenly delivered at the forefront under socialism. Then and only then, when the society lives by the energy of consciousness and when it will be at least a thousand people that radiate energy of intelligent consciousness - and the other millions of people, at least, not interfere with this light and just live - that society prospers. But sometimes the EIC is terminated. For example, as it was due the physical extermination of radiating energy after the October Revolution in Russia or as after the fascist coup in Germany. Then that in order to ensure the balance of bio-energy, instead of thinking involved hundreds of thousands of thousands and even millions. And to escape from this riot of emotions, accompanied by bloodshed, or can only attraction in the energy exchange of people, radiating consciousness, but it is not safe rampant passion for thinking, or what is usually the case, the replacement of the radiation emission energy of emotions in physical labor.
   - Are you sure about that?
     - As never!

   ***
   For a few days Volodya break in the text his life. He wrote the script his biography. This is the past half-century. Not a lot happened. Text was for five pages. It is including birth, school, military service, studies of the institution and two marriages with all the developments.
     Suddenly it was remembered: the Great Russian poet Alexander Blok kept diaries for all his life, but after he worked the Secretary of the Commission of Inquiry into the ministers of the Provisional Government, he felt the destructive force of domestic notes and fearing contemporaries, bequeathed his papers for published 50 years after his death.
   So reduced and Volodya notes. Up to one page.
   - So what, - thought, - that? This page is my whole life in the past? A patch of white paper, flecked with black lines. It look the same as translucent leaf my Sakhalin Maple with pinnate venation in a botanical garden in a foreign land? Worth it for such a small cowardly sit and wait for something when there's a chance to do something important for the people is significant. And most reveal. So, how has it in his newspaper Gennady The Yonge Street Review with a very serious domain name www.newcanada.com.
   In pre-Internet era the intellectual Montreal was different with industrial Toronto mass of gross and subtle otherness. That is the same as life Moscow and St. Petersburg. But in spite of distance and differences, Vladimir and Gennady kept together. They selected one of the best in the world stuff. The Russian emigrant readers honored of their reds newspaper The Yonge Street Review! By the way, In Canada, all the inhabitants except First nation are immigrants. With this among Canadians almost complete equality. So, on the one hand, the life is easily. But in civilized society a light dreams have come into contradiction with the true of life.  Here were the same difficulties as in any other society. Honorariums were as big as fig. But exist was unnecessarily. Radiated emotions from physical labor overlapped energy consciousness.
   But the enthusiastic friends and their erudite wives did not give up. Every evening and every whole week without holidays Gennady`s wife Emma, old sickly woman, a former top official on the Ministry of national education, with a mop on her  hands wiped up all floor in one of Toronto swimming pool. By money which Emma earned, Gennady paid salary to the designer and with the executive secretary of the newspaper. The same situation in Montreal was the Vologda’s wife Tatyana. She is a former electrical engineer and college professor.  And here she from morning till night was pulling the strap for a family of poor Jewish vegetarians, rubbing them a carrot to them power for five dollars an hour. Volodya was plowing as building worker. The whole newspaper stuff of The Yonge Street Review worked here and over there to exhaustion, sometimes for a bowl of soup. But all participants pulled their big promising and a global project about Big Russian-Canadian newspaper.
   Artistic success came to Volodya by another way. He has somehow knowledge of English before the emigration. Even in the Soviet Union, he enthusiastically read books of Ernest Hemingway and comparisons the famous translated native texts of William Shakespeare with texts by Nobel Prize winner Leonid Pasternak. Of cause Volodya had knowledge of English by way of self-education. 
   Vladimir turned out to Canada at 1995. He found that Russian immigrants here are only a trickle and our writer has had to forge. Instead of the Russian he began to write poems in English. That was miniatures, published on a competitive basis in American anthologies published in the leather-bound with a gold edge.
    The first application for expatriate theme that has become Vladimir Morgan leitmotif of his work, presented as a time he wrote poems in English. Later they entered into several elite North American anthologies of poetry. Golden anthologies of poems Volodya placed in the home. Also they stay on bookshelves in the library of Congress USA and other national libraries. This is such as The Sounds of Silence, The Glow Within, The Colors of Life, The Window of Remembrance, Honey of The Soul, Across the Abyss.
   Today V. Morgan is The Honorary member of The International Society of Poets (Maryland, USA), winner of Silver Bowl; he had medals Poet of Merit and Poetry Ambassador of USA.   
    Once at that lone season on the one radio channel of a talk show he heard:
   -It's all nonsense! Basically our famous Canadian poet Vladimir Morgan and his family gathered at the weekend!
      Certainly he didn’t going to anywhere. Like all immigrants at the time, he vigorously rinsed dishes in a restaurant for the poverty booms. But his colleagues on the suit gloomy lesson got shock by what they heard...
   Very incidentally Volodya suddenly remembered one of mass agitation conversation in the Tauride Palace, where the young militant representative of the Regional Executive Committee of Communist party in a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to broadcast to the conference hall in order to supply new slaves:
   -Well, I do not know how to work and do not sweat!
   Someone called from the gallery:
   -And what about the dream of mankind about free labor?
   The reneged-communist representative:
   - And you are there, in the gallery, stand up and show for all of us who you are there so smart? Name! Surname! Where do you work?
   After twenty years here in Canada, hoary with age and tired of the bitter experience of life, Volodya Morgan gets a belated answer for all those who left. And he certificates:
   - In the civilized countries (no matter where it is) no one boss takes women to work over age 30 and men 35 years. The unemployment rate is 10.7 percent. On physical and other works they exploited without pay for 12 hours daily during for three months, ostensibly for training. But they do not allow to employs to work more than six months because they don`t want to pay unemployment benefits...

   ***
   The hardest part was to survive the death of Gennady Dmitrievich. In the prime of his life, he suddenly, as the workhorse on the old coal mine, burned down by the transience cancer for some months. Most striking's not just death but sudden death. It called by word "premature." With the destruction of Gennady came the collapse of the project, the loss of the illusion that you, as a writer, as a planetary personality, someone needs. You are important, requires...
   But, even after leaving the illusion Volodya continued to work in a given direction, not to prove himself, and that enormous whale there in the sea, which he obviously weak man got into the world of whales can be themselves and not the ship. And he is not a toy.
   How is it that a planet, this lovely woman with a hot heart, turned on her creaking axis and showed icy flanks: Look! Look, what I'm flighty and evil!
    "Iroquois legend say: the Great Spirit, or the creator of life, created a beautiful earth for the Indian people, but at the same time put a condition that they will not be at odds with each other. When they broke the promise, he sent angels to gather this paradise in a blanket. Lifted into the sky, paradise earth fell from blankets and broken into small pieces, formed thousands of islands"…
   As a person with a magical and all-powerful golden pen of the writer not to touch the topic and lift it out of its most important thing for those who stayed there in another life? James Fenimore Cooper almost came close to Morgan, teased as a child read the novel "Pathfinder, or on the shores of Ontario."
Now Volodya lived relatively close to the River St. Lawrence, in the part of its well-known in which it begins its run from a wide lake spill.
   Now Volodya lived relatively close to the River St. Lawrence, in the part of its well-known in which it begins its run from a wide lake spill.
This is a unique place of its kind has found a worthy display in the novel by Jules Verne, the French genius "Mysterious Island." Narrating about a fantastic "Lake Grant," the writer, to be clear, using the following comparison: "On the shores of this little Ontario swarmed with many aquatic birds. Thousand Islands of the American Lake were presented here cliff overlooking the water a few hundred feet from the south coast."
  In the first window of opportunity is issued, Volodya and his favorite tourist - wife Tatiana went for impressions and travel was his famous essay "The soup of a thousand islands," in which he described the legend of the "first" of the conquerors. They looked surprised to slap tiny sushi wait protruding out of the water, with two flags on his extremities. One flag is the maple leaf, and the other - the Stars and Stripes. Because some part of the Thousand Islands belongs to Canada, and other numbers in the territorial subordination of New York.
   And here is the promised true story and the same legend:
"Think some scurvy trick, scowling navigator strained wheeze:
   - Who was the first one of us touches the land, and will belong to this bullshit!
   Rowers that have the power lean on the oars, oarlocks creak and glitter spray. And when there is less than to the rock floor cables (one cable - 0.1 nautical miles - 185.2 m), sitting behind all the white-haired marine with bright earrings instantly grabs his belt boarding cutlass, chopping himself left hand and throws his bloody lump of flesh over the heads of his comrades. Competition is over. Marine won. He is victor. He triumphs!
   - Bullshit is bullshit, - spitefully hisses beaten navigator.
   - But by agreement? - A formidable man cries, clutching the wound and gritting his teeth.
   - By agreement, well, land is yours! "
   If you climb the airliner over the place blessed land, even if just to provide a body in space, how many people, proud, greedy, strong in spirit, and of course, looking for adventure, it attracted thousands to himself, who fed who drowned, and who through the rapids and backwaters sifts sand and left to age and ever, you can decide that it is not stock of the islands, and a shovel. Yes! This shovel is for sand washing human. She makes to mankind the gold grains talents.
   
    ***
    - If you want to know who we are, the Canadians - said in spring 2005 y. Mr. Paul Martin the Prime Minister of Canada, for which he immediately fell into another essay Volodya Morgan - then come to our new War Museum. We - the peacekeepers of the world! 
   "Neither the British nor the Russian nor the Americans nor Canadians - not preparing for military action in defense and they do not. But the place of my childhood games were wrecked by direct hits concreted German pillboxes and in Belarus bunkers painted by black fumes and Soviet troops, the stakes - Hitler's Wolf's Lair in the Baltics, the ruined to a depth of 15 meters and fat - up to five meters - the red-brick walls of the forts Prussian Keansburg, tank overturned caponiers of Mannerheim’s line a Finnish and Japanese airfields for bombers, immured over the ocean in Sakhalin steep cliff. Concrete! Where they then got so much concrete?"
   You see, it is Intellect. Where Volodya Morgan took of dishwashing as intellect and spirit energies of consciousness? Take, for example, Niagara. Thousands of tourists were there. In that’s the difference. Presented a picture of the writer getting another turn and angle.
   What is the name Niagara? Volodya presents a legend of the Iroquois folklore, once lived in the scenic spots. As a Virgin of Mist the Indians annually chosen from the tribe of beautiful girl and brought her to sacrifice to the god Manitou, who lived, as they believed, in the depths of the waterfall. Woman victim dressed in the finest clothes, seated in a decorated cake for the job a canoe, and then released by the rod of the river boat without a rudder and without oars. So great was the power of religious indoctrination, the girl gone to his death without a trace of fear. In reverent delight elected by the people Virgo truly believed that he was going to the hot embrace of the rainbow god.
   And how interesting he described Fort Henry in the Canadian province of Ontario! "Autumn - the ripening of fruits and reflection, and winter, in the famous definition, it is the memory of the summer. No, one season of year is not worse than the other; I've nothing bad to say. I - a former master of sport of cross country skiing, that is, the "winter road". From falling into a snow bank I still (briefly) get pleasure. But the summer! Neither Pushkin's "yes, mosquitoes flies" or malicious local "Mosquitos" fatal Nile virus cannot belittle me pleasant impressions of the sights Ontario-Qu;bec "country." Now, I remember, "Oh, Henry!"
   From essay to essay Vladimir strode confidently carrying the cross purpose. And how can you say about the whales, if you see them again and again?
  "The interest in whales is that never in the world did not have things that are larger than whales belonging to the class of mammals with us (by way of feeding babies). Whales exist as if with creation. Even the now famous extinct once oviparous dinosaurs lived on land, much inferior to them in size. Since ancient times, people come to the heart palpitations from one species of whales, giants, pop-up from the sea depths and uplifting joyful foam fountains. Hoping for a good catch the ancients fishermen brought abundant whales and respectful of the victim. There were other beliefs. For example, experienced whalers, filled with rum inverted tips of their harpoons, certainly drank the death of whales. Sailors noted that in the fierce storm mysterious lights of St. Elmo necessarily erupt first in the sharp metal weapon forged for the whales".
   There were also essays The Life Blood of Our Planet, Gold Wrecks Bottle Mail`s Neptune, Women and The Sea and much more related to islands, reefs and sea stories.
     But, being on the ancestral territory of Indians, a professional writer just could not pay attention to their lives.

   ***
   - Sit down, - graciously told Indian and filed a carved pipe.
   Volodya sat down on a stump, looking at the bright headdress of eagle feathers Iroquois leader, respectfully took his pipe and lit it with pleasure. A few seconds after the hard way about anything other than tobacco smoke wonderful to think not like. It was like waking up the morning when sipping your favorite mug and let yourself first real sip of coffee.
    - It`s good, - just said Volodya.
    - It`s good, - echoed Indian.
    Nicotinic acid in the meantime began to actively act on brain cells. And whatever anyone says about her drug threat, the benefits were obvious. None of the smokers would ever, under any circumstances, suffering from senile marasmus and sclerosis, showing clarity of thought and the ability to remember, think, and most importantly, it is logical to express their thoughts down to old age.
   Volodya was even touched remembering that in Russia this nicotine acid has been marketed in pharmacies refuse in the form of tablets for the elderly. But a socialist slogan like “A drop of nicotine kills a horse” is also amusing. And with every new tightening the tobacco Vladimir thought: "A horse! A horse! Where is the horse? Would say simply: a drop of nicotine kills a person! Yes, what is Indian tobacco drops instilled in the eye? "
  Very close on trees with black trunks with outspread strange leaves, realizing for themselves that the people sitting around the fire are not dangerous, cracked exotic birds.
  - Birds, - said Vladimir.
  - Yes, it's a bird, - confirmed the Indian, taking from him his beloved pipe and inhaled again into the lungs aromatic smoke.
The conversation started well.
   Volodya wanted to ask a lot: for example, about Indian God of rainbows, about legends, about tobacco. About that, what the hell is still from year to year are repeated claims of American Indians from Wyoming (Hiawatha, it seems there) annually for ritual purposes shoot two Wyoming eagle on the Red List of the world? Is this for the sake of the magnificent headwear on their heads? Would have changed the fashion, perhaps, one never knows any eagle will remain! Strange people, these Indians!
     Leader, perfectly calm in appearance, looked in the eye. And his thoughts became as transparent to the interlocutor, like a whale in the Arctic. Volodya suddenly understood them at the level of telepathy:
   - Why are you here? Weak! White! For what is your poor tiny car?
    - I was told there in the USSR, you are Indians on reservations bad - also responded to the subconscious level white.
    - We? We are happy here. It you feel bad. You are worse than for us.  So tell me what is necessary, just come. Buy tobacco for pipe you want?
    - Can.
    - But you did not come to that. - Scan his imperturbable the Indian eyes.
    - Not just for this.
    - Good. We have the time, - Indian reassigned Volodya coveted handset.
   Yes, it is. The tobacco was a really wonderful! He is soft, strong, fragrant, not like the one substitute, which was delivered to the Soviet Union, and the one that was available in Montreal.
    - Fed up, shut up! - Thought leader on birds, waved his hand.
    And they suddenly fell silent and obedient.
    - I'm from Russia, - said Vladimir aloud. - I am a Russian writer.
    Suddenly something throat tightened. It was first time when Volodya allowed to call himself that, and realized, finally, who he was and why he had come to this world.
    Indian chief did not know the word "Russia". Rather, the concept of local geography to another continent does not spread. But the leader still felt a powerful surge of energy soul stranger.
    - I'll buy tobacco. - I'll buy this tobacco. A lot purchase. I`ll buy the best and most expensive. Yes. But I came to know about one white person. He came in Canada after the war. I just found out about it. That's all. I do not want anything bad.
     - Okay, - said the chief. - Smoke!
     Volodya inhaled a smoke with a sigh of relief. Thus began a journalistic investigation of the Hero of the Soviet Union and pilot Ivan Datsenko.
   Volodya knew about Ivan Ivanovich Datsenko enough. But for the full picture was not enough only one tiny puzzle but very important cells.
   - Good tobacco, - said the chief. - Tobacco is Indian priority! All North American teepees have a federal right to duty-free cigarettes and cigars. This is the best - pipe. We have cheaper. You have more expensive!
  - Yes, it is. I know. I'll try to buy, - once again confirmed Volodya.
  He realized that the leader again read his next thought, not spoken aloud: "In the city cigarette prices through the nose! Outside of Montreal just across the bridge over the mighty St. Lawrence River it is cheaper". All his strange life Vladimir was the eternal student, a poor immigrant and for ends the miserable pensioner. Across the bridge he came to the Mohawk only on weekend, when police rightly deserved rest, and in their place to put clothes beginners who do not have much.
   - Slip through. - Said slowly and steadily Indian, smoothing tar braids. - God says it will be good.
   - Okay!
   Conversations with other Indians were in a strange way. And they understood, and Volodya knew that their community is like a state within a state.
   "And what is the position of blacks in America?" "And what is the position of Canadian Indians on reservations?" - Worrying for nothing Soviet Communists. Now Vladimir understood - Aboriginal better than him. Moreover, to investigate the hero of the Soviet Union in the area is much more dangerous task than finding their Jewish roots. It is literally a very dangerous subject for the writer's life - seeker Indian romance...
   Tribes that avoided their total destruction still fighting for them independence: for sovereignty, for a refund, a rejection of the territories. It is as the Chechens inside the Russia. For example, Dakota announced the creation of their own state. On a visit to the Canadian Mohawk (after Cuba) arrived youth delegation from the Socialist Venezuela. Protesting against Indians unacceptable decisions of the government of Canada, the natives in arms blocking bridges, highways and railways, are protesting against the ban on the ancient tradition of scalping with enemies ... And so on and so forth.
   Writer, digging this flammable topic, of course, immediately comes under the microscope of local and U.S. intelligence. Especially Russian ;migr; writers for whom it always is easy to sew spy case under standard charge "sleeping agent".
     And for the Indians it is a "white bastards" trying to speculate on a profitable topic, to make their "Bachelor" and at the same time "to knock".
     Smoking a "peace pipe" together with the Fast Deer, Vladimir listened patiently not that interested him in reality.   
  Red man companion - a former mining engineer for the development of mineral resources with relish told for the "dear Russian" how he, Fast Deer, working in a responsible position with dynamite, made in the face of the white manager of a life-threatening technical instruction. And then "they" twisted his arms and how all Indian nomad camp accompanied him as a hero, in handcuffs to the police helicopter!
   Frankly, Vladimir envied rapid Hart and regretted that he was not an Indian, it is not ... Because in his past life he also, like his colleague drove redhead shackled and in handcuffs, but he could not feel proud, but only humiliated and insulted.
     Not knowing what to say comforting Indian, Volodya suddenly opened up and told a touching meeting with Tatiana on the ground in Canada. How this woman, stunning displays of affection on sincerity, just won back, repulsed him at the immigration authorities’ embarrasses and saved from the deadly deportation. She gave him a new chance for life. White body. Blue-eyed. Unusually blue eyes!
   - Beautiful? - Quietly asked Indian.
   - The Goddess of the rainbow! - Answered Vladimir.
   - Well-spoken, a Russian. Speak on. - Noticed Fast Deer in the noble eagle feathers. 

   ***
   That is not Morgan who starts this fantastic story about a hero of the Russian Great Patriotic War against fascist. The people said Russian her has become a leader of the Iroquois Canada. And it was ansience story that is almost plus fifty years ago! But she is not stopped.
   In those days, when our small Vladimir run yet on the Far Eastern fells dressed as all boys in the pants with one strap, exactly at this time in the framework of "peaceful coexistence” labeled as "peaceful competition" between the two intransigent continental systems separated two oceans.
   At the same time the Soviet General Staff prepared plans repel the armed attack of America and the Pentagon's America, in her turn, expands the volume of arms under the pressure of the threat from USSR. Two propaganda systems fueled hates their people to each other. One of the intermediate results of cruel confrontation for life and death was the International Exhibition EXPO-67 opened in Montreal at April 27.
   On cinema and television at that time came ready an era of color images, and on either side of the invisible line of demarcation between two social worlds passed loud premiere endless merry musicals, Christmas nights, carnivals and festivals. And it was not clear: who is who and what each from other borrowed.
   Spies stole and carried from Russia to America and from America to Russia all that could be somehow recycled: from the space projects to the storylines of musical comedies.
    It was a big time. It was the first time at Expo 67 in Montreal when the Soviet people arrived overseas in large numbers...
    What do the hosts decided to show them? First of all they decided to nose wipe, and secondly, not to give out a strategic, and trade secrets.
The Iron Curtain slightly opened. And what the Soviet people saw here?
   The deep ideological war strategists and scholars tactics planned and unplanned economic thought through every detail, including the favorable delivery clear advantages of competing to the death socio-economic formations.
   Sixty-two countries, including the province of Quebec, were presented at a grand exhibition. For such a case in the river bed of St. Lawrence constructors put 28 million tons of rock, creating a man-made miracle - the artificial island Notre Dame. And politologists also tried to fake the people.
   For this time was born the anecdote. Soviet milkmaid came to Montreal. This one group of tourists she looking for all attractions. But every time she pulls the sleeve of her companions and asks: "Well, when we could shop?" Once again her tiered girlfriend told: "Quiet you, they have every button of the tape!" Our milkmaid scared in earnest. Here guide announced: "This tour is over. Now you can go shopping". Our milkmaid flew to guide, grabbed her button on his jacket and dictated loud and clear: "We do not need to shop! We do not need anything! We have everything!" She had a dread of KGB.
  Russians very good understood that joke and they still laughs of that.
But in Canada (it can be said “on the other side of conditional features and the other side of the globe and the world outlook) Volodya in his investigation essay saw it by this way:
   "In the greatest in the world and shocking honeycomb sphere from glass and duralumin was located the exposition of the United States ... Now the Biosphere is Montreal Museum of Water. From 1993 the pavilion of France, built in the form of a powerful snow-white sailboat, operates as a Casino Montreal. The Soviet Union presented a heavy engineering and space exploration in the pavilion, resembling outstretched wings of soaring birds".
   By achievements of the former Grand Union are still proud the people in Russia. And today after USSR fell down nobody really understands why some commentators of rich Canada ridiculed that. At this time the rich country astronauts still have not their own space station, using Soviet station "Mir". The Montreal pavilion of the USSR called “Moscow". Fifteen years later, he was at 70-s he was restored to the Exhibition of Economic Achievements and gained enough sad look.
   Total, according to official sources, the EXPO-67 was built 850 exhibition pavilions. In addition the other side of St. Lawrence River, as this seen from the downtown, captured the imagination were erected futuristic residential buildings with apartments in two floors, as it effortlessly collected from children's blocks. Building and to this day there are here, but housing them dearly and reviews some residents not comfortable.
   During the exhibition Britain proudly boasted the Beatles and Watt's steam engine. Thailand exposed bone and gilded accessories of Buddhism. Iran presented different wines in bowls of beaten silver. Tunisians danced together on colored carpets. Italy shocked the world of the pavilion Poetry. Quebec distinguished himself on a theme to promote its maple syrup. Czechoslovakia introduced all kinds of shining jewelry. Canada strongly promoted colorful feathers of the First Nation, rotten totem poles and the cob corn in clay bowls. UN - international awards and post rarities.   
   As guests of honor here is was the British Queen and here are 50 million others visitors!
   Consist of Soviet delegation was a difficult one - party leaders, MPs, heroes of the war and labor. Government delegation headed by the First Deputy Chairman of the USSR Council of Ministers Dmitry Polyansky. With him - the Bolshoi Opera, about two hundred artists, distinguished workers of culture. Among those who visited unforgettable bright days in Canada and in Montreal was a Soviet dancer Mahmood Esembaev, a vast repertoire which was inimitable Dance of Fire, performed by him under color music Poem of Ecstasy of composer Scriabin. The heart comes in delight as he played it all. In the days of the Expo-67 he danced in the Soviet pavilion, and open areas of Montreal, he won the hearts of their audience.
   According to legend Prime Minister of Canada, Mr. Lester Pearson, whose name is now an international airport in Toronto, was charmed by art Soviet dancer. He closed to Esembaev and asked:
   - I would like to make you a gift. What do you want?
   - Get to know the lives of your Indians, with their traditions and customs, and see firsthand their folk dances.
   -Purkua-pa? Welcome!   

   ***
   To name the fascinating topic of essay is always easier than to give not less exciting final. And Volodya describes how Esembaev came to visit the Indians, the largest Indian wigwam, covered with skins. And Indians showed before him the effects and exotics of all them dancing in the best traditions.
   A tattoo and feathers decorated chef of Indians suddenly spoke in Ukrainian lung and named himself Ivan Ivanovich from city Poltava. And in Indian his name was a Penetrating fire!
   Montigomo - Hawk Talon, Deer slayer and Leather Stock fought for freedom and died under the onslaught of predatory colonialism. In the fevered minds of young generation of Vladimir Ivanovich the characters of Fenimore symbolically associated with the heroes of the bloody battle of Great Russian Nation against the Nazi invaders. And it is not strange that the first time he heard this surprising story about the Soviet soldier who headed the Indian tribe, he heard it from a Russian veteran of war who is living in Canada.  A couple of years before the creation of the essay, the veteran asked:
   - How are you, son?
   - So-so. I work ... Basically, at myself.
   - Do you know that the leader of one of Canada's Indian tribes was a pilot, Hero of the Soviet Union? - Said admiringly Honorary Corresponding Member of the New York Academy of Sciences. - Here's something to work on it!
   
     Volodya would have thought that the veteran, as nature is hot, addicting, something exaggerating. However, he has had make search by internet.
   Headlines smartly protuberated contents of articles. For example, The leader of the red men, Hero of the Soviet Union was the leader of an Indian tribe, Ivan Ivanovich - Indian chief, Iroquois tribe listened to the camp fire Ukrainian song “Unharnessed, boys, your horses " and nobody knew that their leader was awarded the Golden Star of the Hero of the Soviet Union...
   Loud story on a friendly meeting the dancer with the leaping Indian leader became the basis of numerous short stories, both in Russia and in Ukraine, was promoted brand, evoked a variety emotions and feelings.
   But Volodya was here and felt obvious trick in many voiced considered as idle rows and between the rows. Ten years consecutive in a previous life Volodya kept newspaper column Nobody is forgotten and nothing is forgotten. He had big experience of tracking down the characters. Where in this case "the dog is buried?"
   Okay. It`s all right.  Let's go in order. Esembaev accidentally met with countryman in an unexpected place and of course they spoke.
   Here is the following fact. At the jubilee of thirty five years of Expo-67 in the Russian TV show that to searching for lost people one woman asked: "I am looking for my uncle, Hero of the Soviet Union, Ivan Dotsenko - the Indian tribe leader, which Mahmoud Esembaev met
and told about it in an interview." The letter cousin of Ivan Ivanovich to the TV show came with yellowed cutting from the newspaper age-old Esembaev interview...
   Then Vladimir Ivanovich requested the historical dates. He appealed to the archives and found out that the Hero with the surname D(o)tsenko simply does not exist. There is only one for Soviet Union pilot D(a)tsenko.
   "Datsenko Ivan Ivanovich (1918 - 1944). At the time of submission of the title of Hero of the Soviet Union (18.09.43.) he is Commander of the 10th Guards Air Regiment (3rd Guards Air Division, the 3rd Guards Air Corps, ADD), Guard lieutenant. He was born on 29.11.1918 in the village Chernecha Yar that now is Dikanka`s district, Poltava region in a peasant family. Ukrainian. Member of the KPSU since 1940. He studied at the junior secondary school in Great Budishche. In 1937 he graduated from the Veterinary College. He served in Red Army from 1937 y. In 1940 he graduated from the Chkalovsky military aviation school pilots. When the Great Patriotic War - commander of the 10th Guards Air Regiment (3rd Guards Air Division, 3rd Guards Air Corps, ADD) Guard Lieutenant Datsenko to August 1943 made 213 sorties to bomb important military-industrial facilities, reserves and surrounded by enemy forces. He was awarded the Order of Lenin, the Red Banner, and many medals. 04/19/1944 year I.I.Datsenko did not return from a combat mission. His name assigned to the pioneer squad of school, where the Hero studied".
   Sources of information were official and more than respectable: Heroes of the Soviet Union. Brief Biographical Dictionary. In two volumes. - Moscow: Military Publishing, 1987, 1988., Gunbin NA in stormy sky. - Yaroslavl: Upper Volga Publisher books, 1984. Reshetnikov V. That was - that was. - New York: Penguin Books, Yauza, 2004., Internet site: ilpilot.narod.ru / man / hsu_add / v / datsenko_ii.html (3 KB) • 30.09.2004 y.
   Question cousin was read out from the TV screen just as the question. It is justified and legitimate. Why not? Snag was only in the fact that after the death of Ivan Datsenko in a night battle in the sky above Lvov no one ever saw his remains. The military command not enrolled him in the "dead hero's death," but in the "missing". This was the practice of that war. As a result, NKVD in the years of war seized personal matter Datsenko from the military unit, where he served. Fearless aviator posthumously stripped of the title of Hero, and from the Memory Book of all Heroes the name I.I. Datsenko has been erased.
    There inevitably will start to smoke!
   Now, if we could now compare Volodya with Leo, in habits, he looked exactly like him. Only mane is not from above but from below that his beard sticking out.
   So, from the beginning we must begin. The truth is somewhere out there!
   The famous Russian dancer comes to the exhibition-67. He excellent stands. And he got welcome. Some anonymous people presented him a pig in a poke on a silver platter! And yet, they say: that this cat you want to see! He is your hero that immigrated to us, he married the daughter of the leader and after the father death he became a leader.
   The history on the Hero Star generally of all caused a bad outlines of forgotten memories. As in every family of Russia, Volodya had his owner grief. And he has a family hero. And an injustice was. And us usually nobody fight against it. No one is brave. "And who fought for justice they got ran."
   - Damn mythical whale - not a whale - the dream of the sea, you think, I cannot describe the way I feel? - Said the writer himself, just bring in the mirror. - Now I certainly can!
   His name was Sergei. He was the hero who had not returned from the war. Uncle Sergei. Brother of Volodya father. He was more than half its present age. Much younger Volodya, what it is today. Strange that. When the heroes leave us they get older.
   And we are responsible for them. Not they are for us. We go after them! Besides us no one remembers how to remember.
   During the war uncle Serge, officer, also was missing. The enemy shell direct hit reversals his dugout. The wife soldier, aunt Dasha got a standard notification that “he went missing”. A time of war soaked in blood, revenge and hatred, national and class fight did not allow the Soviet state to recognize a brave man everyone who disappeared from the battlefield. The family of "disappeared soldiers" automatically loosed all financial aid. Restoring of truth to Aunt Vladimir used the testimony of Comrade Uncle Sergei from the line front of war but the live letter of combatant did not help. In the triangle rumpled soldier letter the warrior sadly reported to Dasha that he is the eyewitness and he had seen by owners’ eyes as an enemy shell scattered the dugout of his friend along with human remains. But who then, in general, has been collects human remains and identify them?
   The fuss after the question of II Datsenko relative, voiced by the television program, both in Russian and in Ukrainian media literally deduced Volodya from themselves and forced to think and analyze.
   Here are the inaccuracies. And there are incorrect or evasive falsehoods.
   The hoholi are lying! Lie! And the moskali also lie. Although they lie less, but it's the same bad. Here, here - the lack of logic. This was not professional. Colleagues were confuses named the Canadian Prime Minister as the President. If sincerely, the big country as Canada is a Dominion and has not the Presidents. And most importantly: clear the bases - name spelled as Dotsenko, is really Datsenko. This is annoying and disturbing.
   For all of that, the bad investigators are completely ignoring the fact that the Hero of the Soviet Union pilot Dotsenko does not exist in nature. There is only one single Datsenko. Others did not Ivan Ivanovich.
   Russian media casually called the pilot "Russian" and claim that he allegedly from Russia, and his (its right?) Indian nickname «Penetrating fire» - sharp, piercing, shrill - manipulated under false association of burning aircraft as Piercing fire. Even they say something as "Black hard." Dictionaries, however, suggest otherwise: "Among the Iroquois this mean the giver of grain." In complete bewilderment introduces the reader to different interpretations and in the name of Indian camps, where the then visited by tourists.
   It is the "Kahnawake" then "Kahnaveyk, " then "Teykovek." And this is not the same things. To be fair, Vladimir made the discovery that it is difficult to establish an unambiguous transcription, such Indian names like «Kaia'tithkhe», «Kahawinnkie» and «Kai: khons». Besides, it is not known, Esembaev sent or not a postcards with views of "Ridny Ukraine" to someone in Canada, and what the address. Because Esembaev house in Grozny and the whole artistic archive of Great dancer, which contained letters and photos of Indian chief, completely destroyed during the Chechen war.
   It was the most interesting investigation in Volodya life. Paragraph by paragraph Volodya made much ethnography, philology, political, naturalistic discoveries. Including pleased to learn, finally, that the Montreal Mohawks living in reserves Kahnawake / Kahnaw:ke and in Kanesatake / Oka, these are the most Mohicans Mohicans on who so sublimely once narrated for the youngers over the world Fenimore Cooper.

   ***
   The eternal question of all time: Where are disappeared the Sadducees and Pharisees, Cimmerians, Scythians, Tauris, the ancient Jews, Greeks and Romans, Drevlyans, Krivichi and Mercedes-Benz G-ckass? Where gone the Mohicans of Fenimore Cooper? Is it really malicious colonialists destroyed them all to a single?
   And nowhere, then they disappeared - neither one nor the other. They all currently are living next to us, like the good Samaritans on Shamron the same the Mohicans. As the descendants of the ancient Assyrians still are living in Russia. They are faring and even make the kids. A small town Kahnaw:ke (Kahnawake) is precisely one of seven such settlements him the Mohawk Nation, whose territory included in the province of Quebec. Moss (d)avki – it is Kanienkehaka - the People of the Flint (Flint people). Kahnaw:ke is home to approximately 8,000 residents. And by the way, the word "Flint" does not mean the famous pirate. It translated from the same English means "Flintstone" or "Tinder".

   ***
   The writer Vladimir Morgan sent to surrounding Montreal Indian city administrations and to cultural centers more than a dozen e-mails with a request to share information they have about Datsenko.
The answers came fast, even shorter than the questions, and - negative.
There is a saying in Russia. That for Russian is joy - to the German - it is poison. And for the guest-American it could be the hell.
   In multi-ethnic youth camps this is manifested with particular sharpness. The American will never take up an ax and starts to collect boughs to a camp fire. He will look for a power outlet built into meadow which geographically marked for weekends rest with bio-toilets installed in advance.
   After depressurization of the space suit only Russian cosmonaut (in this case it was the Alexandrov) can guess to seal his conventional medical tape. Similarly, as an American astronaut walked out in space and grabbed the rail and hung and full him pampers. It was a time when equip had the external work for three hours and the poor guy was uncoupled from the bumper and dragged into the ship. Now they are spacewalking out and shaped as letters carefully paint over their chilling acronym USSR. There is the last and first only one Russian letter C (U).
   The trained by wild conditions of independence and primitive life Russian in Russia sometimes make things up that never would have guessed the representatives of the civilized people. For example, only the Russian would go not known where and they could bring not known what. As it is told the folk tales. On the martyr experience of fools and the pioneers were raised all who want be smart and intelligence.
   Also Volodya went for the Next Hero of his essay literally the old way. He sat down in his tiny car Pontiac (named after the Great Indian chief of Ottawa’s people), hit the accelerator and - go ahead!
   In the reserves he had occasion to see different. On the two shores of the mighty and thoughtful St. Lawrence he entered into the Indian stores with his naive stupid questions, contacted sellers and buyers. (So he sometimes sought new heroes in the depths of Russia).
   He visited more than a dozen hastily constructed wooden booths along the roads, where the plywood panels adorned with hand-inscribed inscription "Vodka", "Cigarettes" and where the watchful Indians traded so-called contraband goods from the U.S. He asked men to the characteristic shape of eyes at the gas stations and the first counter-cross the streets, and sometimes abscesses outright hostility to look askance. Other interlocutors turned away in fright, hurriedly making way. No one was surprised. Nobody amazing said: “Oh, a Russian!" Russian is Russian. He is plus a new colonizer. Go away, man!   
   Not so far a former Soviet flying officer Oleg Schuster familiar Vladimir Morgan organized in Toronto a club type of Soviet-Indian friendship in a wigwam. This is something like officially authorized Soviet-Russian gatherings of old ladies in ancient screaming overexposed the dancing song Kalinka.
   The Indians not too much but white people are beating the drums inside the club, shake their feathers, reward each other Indian nicknames (such as Die Claw), paint each other, squatting dance Russian Apple etc. Fast Deer invited Volodya to take part in their Indian club and organize something similar in Montreal but the writer kept silent.  For what all this activity if the topic is very taboo?   
  Moreover Volodya is not the final and business did not go well.
After studied the materials and cleared the details, Volodya understood that there were not moral, psychological and circumstantial factors to such a strong man like Lt. Datsenko to run across the fields of war as a rabbit to save his own skin. It was cool the Hero died a heroic death in aerial combat. Having studied in details over a hundred documents, Vladimir was completely sure: Datsenko died. And the chef of Iroquois and all of his dancing tribe on Expo-67 was the concert, the live show.
   A guess was confirmed evidence of the Esembaev that even in our post-Soviet times cried once in the heart:
   - What is a hero? My Datsenko single day not lived in the USSR! Moreover, even as his father came to Canada seven years in age of child. And the age of Indian chef, well, in the 67th he was about thirty years old. That is like a boy. This means that in time of Second World War he was three or four years...
   What, then, it was, and continues even today?
   "The results of my personal research were tragically empty.  "Daddy, Daddy, our nets dragged the dead man." But I did not want to detract the valor and courage of the Soviet pilot, a true Hero of Ivan Datsenko, the fallen hero's death, in a fierce battle for his people, for a great country. What, then, I repeat, all of this was? Show! It was just a live show. "
   Disappointed finished Vladimir Morgan essay, drawing one stroke all the dots in point:
   "And this is my final opinion: hands off from Hero of the Soviet Union! As result of efforts the "restless seekers" our Hero lost not only t Gold Star, but also the country. I am not asking to return him or for us our homeland. "Do not be the fact of the Lord's will we never gave up the Moscow!" Bring back for Mr. Ivan Ivanovich Datsenko his good name, his military awards, erect the monument to him, and give him a well-deserved repose of the soul! The bright and glorious life of soviet Hero is a noble example for modern young generation."   
   
   ***
  He wrote what he thought on the golden image of hero. He leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his tired eyes.
  It worked.
   Philosophy and life, dream and reality suddenly have found here the flesh, these maples coming out one by one from the printer. The leaves are like a sword and Egida a fair Athena our times.
   Vladimir reached for a folder and gently stroked respectable publication in English. And had to smile, remembering the phrase snatched from local radio talking:
   -It's all nonsense! Our famous Canadian poet Vladimir Morgan and his family gathered at the week-and!
  Now he knew: in English, even you are a fool man you can
speak and write. But how is about Russian? And so fluently that even unpublished manuscript flashed a gold edge. It`s weak?
    - Tatyana! "May be to harness brown filly at the sleigh?” - Vladimir ruffled his hair when the wife came to the monitor.
   Instantly divining great mood Volodya Tatyana archly narrowed her heavenly blue eyes and royally gave her hand:
    - Yes, to harness! 
    On their "Pontiac" the couple rushed towards to the waterfall already a quarter of an hour. Niagara met with loud applause water under floodlights sighting of the sun in its giant horseshoe unforgettable happiness. All in the rainbow as in necklaces hopes.
    That was as foam spray rose from collapsing water and like a smoke peace pipe of rainbows God.
   "Diamond Mountain is strewed
    From the heights of its four rocks
    Pearls abyss and silver
    Is boiling down, beats as knolls;
    From splashes blue hill is standing
    In forest roar stay and thunder far away "...
    Volodya shouted riot of falls.
    - Who wrote it? - Tatyana laughed.
    - Derzhavin! Gavrila Romanovich! Look out! Today the color sky and an extraordinary waterfall are all azure! How are your eyes!
    - And you yourself compose something! – Harnessed companion, smiling broadly.
   - Niagara falls! Niagara falls! The left of shore and right of coast! - Immediately issued Volodya in the manner of Russian big poem Vasily Terkin and laughed. - Try it! Try more voile of these sprays. "Oh, darling, you're always good clothes!"
   - And this is Pushkin.
  - Yes, it’s Alexander Pushkin and Volodya Morgan - all poets down at your feet!
  And suddenly, in the most unexpected moment Volodya clearly heard the call of the Arctic Big Whale. The writer became serious.
   Yes, it is! In his heart is burning a new story as a new life.
 
                * * * * *

Svetlana Savitskaya
March 2012

                ABOUT AUTHOR

   The biography of our author and a cult writer Svetlana Savitsky from Russia measured her real and big affairs. Her novels, stories, parables, poems, essays and stories translated into many different languages.
   Admirers of talent writer established more than 20 museums dedicated to her creative work in Russia, Belgium, Spain, Germany, India, Slovakia, Serbia, and Ukraine. In Spain the writer Savitsky referred as Russian Hemingway, in Denmark - Russian Andersen and she is revered in India along with Rabindranath Tagore.
   To her own creative research she has traveling up across all Russia, and visited twenty others countries.
   The princess originally from genus of Naryshkin Svetlana Savitsky has a unique talent to be understandable to God and Hero, to the child and the old man, the Minister and the janitor, the millionaire and the paupers.
   In the literary world her homeland and on the Russian language space of the planet S. Savitsky has become a symbol of a kind patronage as the founder of the International Literary Contest for Grand-Prix The Golden Pen of Russie. Famous writer awarded more than 150 literary awards in Russia and other countries. One of the new stars discovered by astronomers in constellation Libra is named her honor.


© Copyright Svetlana Savitskaya  2013

Published on:
The newspaper West-East, Montreal edition, from #18 to #24, 2012 y.
Also on the website West-East:
The Golden Edge (artistic-documentary story) - Chapter I
http://1001news.ca/?p=15715
The Golden Edge – Chapter II
http://1001news.ca/?p=15722
The Golden Edge – Chapter III
http://1001news.ca/?p=15726
 
Authorized translation by Vladimir Morgan 
© Copyright Vladimir Morgan 2013


THE GOLDEN EDGE

By: Vladimir Morgan

    ISBN: 1-4836-3286-5 (eBook)
    ISBN13: 978-1-4836-3286-5 (eBook)
    ISBN: 1-4836-3285-7 (Trade Paperback 6x9)
    ISBN13: 978-1-4836-3285-8 (Trade Paperback 6x9)



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