The Americans and Russians got into it last week.
Well, one American, and one Russian got into it last week. Lots of noise ensued at the start. Then, it got aggressive.
The skirmish could have escalated, but it didn’t.
Thank parental intervention and Fisher-Price diplomacy for that.
To their amazement, the toddlers, this American and this Russian, found out that not only could they share that riding truck toy — they could actually have fun at the same time while doing it.
“See?” said Pamela Hines, the mother of Kobe, the American, as she gently stepped in to quell the territorial war. “Nothing to it.”
“Yes,” replied Gleb Irisov, who is dad to Mark, the Russian. “It would appear the situation has been resolved successfully. No more conflict.”
Too bad it won’t be that easy back home, he said.
Irisov talked about resolutions there that may be a long time coming — if at all — while Vladimir Putin continues to wage war on Ukraine.
The only resolution for Irisov and his family after Feb. 24, when those troops stepped over the border, he said, was to leave. In a hurry.
With Mark, who isn’t yet 2, and his wife, Alisa, who is pregnant with their second child, the family, after quietly turning the lock to their door in Moscow, lit out.
In some ways, it smacked of the Cold War, the now-defector said. He kept cutting his eyes to windows and street corners.
He caught himself sweating when he saw soldiers — and he used to be one.
“We were being watched,” he said. “We were targeted because we spoke out.”
Putin’s reporters, speaking (or trying to) truth to power
Irisov, 31, was working as a journalist in Moscow for TASS, Russia’s largest state-owned news agency.
He got the job in part because of Alisa, 27, who was an editor there. She advanced quickly, after showing talent early on as a reporter, book author and illustrator.
He covered military affairs for the news organization, which only made sense, as he formerly served as an intelligence officer in the Russian army.
Given his fluency in English, French and Hungarian, he worked as interpreter and also did a tour in Syria, along with numerous other international deployments while wearing the uniform.
TASS also sent him abroad for story assignments. Working for TASS, he said, made for a challenging dance of duty. How much could he seriously report — factually, that is — before being shut down?
“The military is corrupt,” he said. “The whole system is. Everything is broken.”
After the invasion of Ukraine, he couldn’t do the dance anymore, he said.
“This is an unjust war,” he said.
“I would be a war criminal if I stayed and kept spreading disinformation.”
Not that Putin gave him choice, he said. Alisa, either.
That’s because they publicly signed a petition opposing the war. That made them, in Putin’s eyes, aggressors and agents against Mother Russia.
“At that moment we became enemies of the state,” he said.
Something else was also afoot at that moment, and the implications were unsettling.
He learned through sources that he and Alisa were on their way to be rounded up, with the other reporters who didn’t know their place.
If nothing else, they could count on being detained for a time during the media smack-down. After that, who knew?
“The only thing we could do was go at that point,” Alisa said, while her husband translated. “Of course, I’ll miss my loved ones still there, but I have to think about Mark and the baby.”
What a long, strange trip it’s been
They sold their Russian car, to pay for airline tickets. They knew they were luckier than some.
One scary moment at the Armenian border after the Georgia Republic turned into a silent laughing gasp of relief when it was all over.
They were stopped, then waved through.
Eventually.
“I’ve got several stamps on my passport,” he said. “They may have thought I was military.”
Istanbul unfurled to Mexico City and a jump-cut to Los Angeles gave way to a panning shot of an American rental car and the open road.
It took an empty gas tank, plus a posting on Facebook, to deliver them to the aforementioned Hines, the toddler-whisperer.
Last stop (for now): Morgantown.
Support and empowerment
For the Morgantown woman, it was about news coverage, too.
Hines didn’t like the suffering she was seeing on the nightly news. She didn’t like what she was reading in the newspapers and other outlets.
So, she became her own humanitarian organization.
Last month, she founded Gold & Blue United Inc., an outreach group, which, as she writes on its website (www.goldandblueunited.com), is “dedicated to bringing humanitarian aid to the Ukrainian and Russian men, women and children who have fled the inhumane war on Ukraine and its people.”
Her group is partnering with several outreach agencies and a similar mission in Romania.
You’ll also find it on Facebook at Facebook/goldandblueunited. The email is goldandblueunited@gmail.com.
Two weeks ago, a certain wandering family took up residence at the Morgantown area home of husband and wife Hilda Heady and Dennis G. Zahradnick.
She’s a retired WVU social worker and retired health care administrator. He’s a retired high school principal with an Eastern European lineage.
“If you have the resources and can help, you’d better,” Heady said.
Her husband smiled in the direction of Mark. He and Hilda have several young grandchildren. That’s what their house was made for, he said.
Global gratitude
“People here are so very kind,” Irisov said.
“In Russia, the state wants to blame the West for everything. It wants to blame America, but it was the United States of America that rebuilt Europe after World War II with the Marshall Plan. We’re grateful to Pam and Hilda and Dennis. I cannot tell you how much we are.”
Alisa, meanwhile, is due in July. Her baby will be delivered at J.W. Ruby Memorial Hospital.
Heady didn’t waste time getting her set up with prenatal appointments — “You know how old social workers are,” she said, chuckling.
Irisov is pursuing freelance journalism opportunities while delivering his anti-war message — “Putin is worse than both Stalin and Hitler” — to international news outlets.
Both he and his wife probably won’t reside in Russia again, they said.
Maybe somewhere else in Europe. Maybe Morgantown.
Right now, they are just grateful for Mountaineer kindness by way of West Virginia and the U.S., they said. They’re grateful for the opportunity to breathe.
Alisa nudged her husband, and pointed.
The American and Russian, Kobe and Mark: They were sitting, shoulder-to-shoulder, pushing that once-contested toy truck back and forth.
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