Minsk, Belarus
Moved in 1989
I wanted to go with the first wave of emigration when my uncle was leaving. Well, all sorts of family circumstances developed so that we could not leave, and naturally, right after the 10th grade, no one would have let me go, but I would not have gone myself. So this event had to be postponed for... almost ten years. Because then everything (the border) was immediately closed and opened exactly ten years later. And that's right after it opened, we got ready. From Minsk, in 1989.

Although I must honestly say that I lived very well there. I was doing what I loved and everything was fine.
But at that moment I was already married, and my son was just born. And as soon as the boy was born, and... there are all these events in Afghanistan and so on, and so on. I realized that in addition to the fact that I wanted to go anyway, I also knew that under any circumstances I didn’t want to let my son in the Soviet army. And I had no money, no connections, no possibility to save him from it. And no one knew what would happen, no guarantees, so to speak. Therefore, despite the generally sufficient prosperous life there at that moment, before the nineties went wild, we packed up and moved. My uncle lived in Chicago, and we came straight here.
I came here with a one-year-old child and was pregnant. The second son was born here, and all this was so... so much was going on that, frankly, there was no time to analyze, compare, get bored, or be sad. No time and no opportunity to do so. With little children it was necessary to somehow get on our feet. So, thanks to such a busy life, we avoided all kinds of emotional struggles.

There was no nostalgia as such at all. Honestly. Why? Because it happened that my close friends somehow all of a sudden, almost at the same time, all took off and moved here. Basically to Chicago.

To be honest, there was not much to take. It was discussed especially when sending our luggage, say, which books to take. Which ones to take, which ones to leave behind. I don’t know if you have caught the time or not when a book was the best gift. There was nothing else there at that time.

The luggage was not dimensionless, and how to carry, let's say, an old porcelain tureen, which is obviously likely to break, was, to put it mildly, unrealistic, and I gave it to a museum. The museum was organized under the Belarusian railway, and I donated all the stuff there.

Phone call recording
Please find the English transcript below
Phone call translation
This coffee set, which I photographed, was presented to my parents for their wedding in 1961. It is still safe and sound. And not because they did not use it: it was used absolutely regularly, I won’t say every day, but all the time when someone came, but people came often.

It was put on the table, this coffee set. Nobody took special care of it. But it survived.
Here, of course, we don't use it. First, to be honest, we don’t want it broken. Honestly speaking. And second, well, we no longer drink coffee from such cups, we drink from other ones. Habits change somewhat.

What you saw were grandfather's tea glass holders. Grandfather and grandmother drank tea with these tea glass holders, I drank from a cup. I had a cup. I remember that I stayed overnight with them, and that was often. Or dropped by. We sat down for tea, the glass holder was given to my grandfather, and I had a cup.

This coffee pot was used to brew coffee. Yes, but not very much like coffee it was, but whatever. Coffee was boiled, poured into this coffee pot, cups were placed, lemon was cut, sugar, well, everything was as it should be! Before I bought another set here, which is more modern, which I like more, I made myself coffee and I used these cups. There was a time when I was in no hurry, didn’t have to run, and I made myself some coffee in a little cezve (Turkish coffee pot) as it should be. And I enjoyed it! Sometimes you have to arrange such moments for yourself.

This plate is my baby plate. See, it’s written the GDR porcelain on the back. I ate from it when I was a year old. As I remember now - semolina porridge. From this plate. And waited for the bottom to appear.

Imagine you'd go somewhere else to live. What would you like to put in your suitcase?

Well, I don't know about the suitcase, but I would take these sets. I have three sets that I keep: one for tea, one for coffee - these are my parents’ wedding presents.
And another one, too, for coffee, I try not to touch it at all, this is what my father was given for his 50th birthday, it was his last birthday, in 1986. This is what I would take undoubtedly. And I would take this plate of course!
The tea and coffee sets were taken not because... well, it is clear that this is a memory, but also because what else was there to take? We took what we had. What could be left, donated to someone - was left and donated.

I would take everything. Because the older you get, the more expensive this memory becomes.

In the same way as there is a desire to start everything from scratch and to scatter everything and to hell all these binds, at some point there comes a desire to ground or something. To return to the roots, to understand where you are from, who you are, what you are. That you are not some kind of a rolling stone, that you did not appear from a test tube, you were not taken out from an incubator. You had relatives, you had some ancestors, and kin, in the end.

And again, in the same grandfather's apartment [in Belarus], I suddenly felt absolutely comfortable. Surrounded by this old furniture I grew up with. I grew up! I felt absolutely comfortable. And if you ask me, if I had to leave my Chicago apartment, for example, and stay there [in Belarus] to live. Would I change anything? From the furniture or so...
You know what? Most probably not.
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