Russians Love Their Grandchildren Too

There is an older couple across the street in little old Mountville who are Russians. I asked the man a couple of years ago why he moved to America and he looked at me, and looked around, and raised his hand in a sweeping gesture. That was enough of an answer...guess it was kind of self-evident. Stupid suburban me, taking it for granted. A more interesting question would be, "Why here?"

I have been praying that I would get to know him better. Somewhat ashamed that I do not know his name after living across from he and his wife for over four years. I cleverly call them the "Russkies." I am quite the coiner.

He often comes outside after I return from my runs. It happens too often to be a coincidence. It almost seems as if he is waiting for me...he walking out of his door and up the driveway holding his little grandson's hand. His little grandson often looks wary of me...a 6'8" sweaty dude panting and doubled-over. Probably gives the little guy nightmares.

In our conversations, we chat about interesting topics, with really no agenda. A couple of days ago we talked about Russian novelists. He thinks Solzhenitsyn is too wordy and dense. Guess writing about Stalin and the Gulags does that. He gave a thumbs up to Dostoevsky but likes Tolstoy the best out of the three. Then he mentioned a fourth Russian author I had never heard of before as his favorite. It was an interesting conversation that was profound in its simplicity. A friendship of sorts is developing.

Made me think of the Sting song....Russians Love Their Children too