Chapter 29: Grandparents

August 11, 1985, McKinley, Ohio

On Sunday, Elizaveta and I were at the Cathedral as planned, and everything went well. Protodeacon Seraphim confirmed that I'd only need one additional Sunday, as planned, though he agreed with Father James that it wasn't strictly necessary. The bishop hadn't been at the church, as he was visiting a parish in Kentucky, and had taken Subdeacon Alexi with him. After the usual light lunch, my wife and I had come home and were relaxing in the living room, listening to music when the phone rang.

"Mike, it's Mom."

"Hi."

"I think you should call your grandfather," Mom said. "I tried to talk your dad into taking a trip to visit his parents, but he said he didn't feel like traveling."

"In general," I asked. "Or with you?"

Mom sighed deeply, "The latter. He didn't say it, but I think that's what it is."

"I'll call Grandpa Loucks, but I'm not sure how much good it will do if Dad won't go there. Maybe I'll see if I can bring Muhammad to the mountain."

Mom laughed, "I'm not sure that metaphor quite works."

"Actually," I replied, "I think it does. Calvinism is what you get when you apply the underlying principles of the Reformation to Roman Catholicism; Islam is what you get when you apply them to Orthodoxy. Calvinism and Islam have a lot in common."

"When did you come up with that?"

"I didn't. It was an Antiochian priest from Cleveland whom I met in High School who told me that. He was from the Old Country and had come over in the 70s. Once he made the statement, I started thinking about it, and I think there's a lot of truth to it. Iconoclasm, literalism, and a host of other 'isms' are common between them. Anyway, let me call Grandpa Loucks and see if he's up to coming to Ohio. It would be good to see him, no matter what."

"Thanks, Mike."

We said 'goodbye', and I hung up. I let Elizaveta know what I was doing, then went to the small bedroom to get my address book, as I didn't have my grandfather's phone number memorized. I dialed the '312' area code number, and my grandmother answered the phone.

"Hi, Grandma, it's Mike."

"Mike! How are you? How was the trip to Europe?"

"We're doing well, and the trip was awesome. I suspect we traversed some ancient Loucks family areas without realizing it when we were in Holland."

I used 'Holland' because that was how my grandparents had always referred to the Netherlands, though I knew it wasn't strictly correct, as it technically only referred to the coastal region where Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and The Hague were located.

"That's good. I'm really sorry we missed your wedding."

"I understand, Grandma. It wasn't anyone's fault. How is Grandpa doing?"

"As stubborn as always!" she said with a hint of laughter. "But that should be no surprise."

"No, it isn't," I replied.

"You're a deacon in your church now?" Grandma Loucks asked.

"Yes, I am," I confirmed. "Would I be able to speak to Grandpa?"

"Of course. Let me get him for you."

"Thanks."

"It was good talking to you, Mike. Come visit if you can."

"We'll do our best," I replied.

She put the phone down, and a moment later, my grandfather came on the line.

"Hi, Mike," he said. "How are you?"

"Good. And you?"

"Better than the doctors think I am!" he said, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"Just do what they say, Grandpa. I need a few years, but soon enough, I want my kids to meet both their great-grandfathers."

"You're part of the conspiracy!" he declared, but there was humor in his voice.

"Not quite," I chuckled, "but in a few years."

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this very rare call from my grandson?"

He had a very good point — I didn't keep in touch with them the way I did my mom's parents, but it was a two-way street in that they had always been a bit stand-offish, mostly due to my dad outwardly embracing Orthodoxy.

"Have you talked to my dad recently?"

"How recently? You know he was here when I had my medical problem."

"In the last two months?"

"Sure. He's called to see how I was doing. Why?"

I took a deep breath and let it out.

"Did you know he and Mom are having serious difficulties?"

"What?! What are you talking about, Mike?"

"How much do you know about what happened with Liz four years ago?"

"Only that she had been mixed up with a bad element and had used drugs. That's why she went to that hospital in Columbus."

"It's a lot more complicated than that," I replied. "The short version is Dad does not approve of Liz's husband Paul, and they've basically been on the outs for over a year. One thing led to another, and Mom and Dad began having trouble because of that, and now Dad is drinking, apparently quite heavily."

"Liquor is a demon, Mike. It gets hold of you and never lets go. I didn't even know he drank liquor."

"He has for as long as I can remember," I said. "But I don't want to argue with you about that. He needs help, and he won't listen to Mom, his pastor, or me. I was hoping he'd listen to you."

"He hasn't listened to me on very many topics since he joined your mom's church."

"Can you find a way in your heart to set that disagreement aside?" I asked.

"How could I do that? It's part and parcel of who I am. How could I ever set the Gospel aside?"

"Grandpa, do you think I'm a Christian?" I asked.

"Mike..."

"I'd like to know, actually," I replied.

"Works-righteousness is a false Gospel," he said.

By which he meant something very different from what we actually taught, but I didn't think I'd ever convince him. Synergy was not 'works-righteousness' the way he meant it, in that we could save ourselves. We couldn't. That said, we did have to coöperate with God for our salvation, something my grandfather would emphatically deny was even possible.

"Then I suppose, from your perspective, the only answer is to abandon all hope and leave Dad to his predestined fate."

He was quiet for about twenty seconds, "It's not like that."

"Then, what is it like?" I asked. "Can you not find a way, in Christian love, to forget the theological disagreements and talk to your son?"

"Even if I ignore our differences with regard to faith, I don't believe he'll listen to me."

"And I actually think he will, if you set aside what you consider a betrayal of the Gospel and simply talk to him as your son. He needs your help, even if he won't admit it. But not on the phone; you'll need to come to Ohio and have a face-to-face, man-to-man conversation."

"Who's going to tell my doctors?"

"I think if you explain to them how important this is, they'll agree. I'll talk to Grandma, too. Just take a nice leisurely drive, leaving in the morning, stopping in Indianapolis for a few hours, and then driving the rest of the way. I'm not sure you should stay at the house, though. I can call Grandpa Mikhail, and I'm sure you could stay at their house. They have a very nice, very large guest room, and you two always seemed to get along despite your religious differences."

"Things between your mom and dad are really that bad?"

"Grandpa, I honestly think you're the last chance to prevent a divorce, and repairing things has to start with getting Dad to stop drinking."

And be willing to go to counseling, but making THAT argument with my grandfather was not going to win me any points, as he saw psychology as simply a way to justify sin.

"What's so bad about this man Liz married?"

"She was involved with him before she turned eighteen, and Dad and Liz had a serious falling out over that," I said, not wanting to reveal too much.

"'Involved'," he said with complete disdain. "That's enough reason for anyone to be upset."

"Whatever inappropriate behavior in which Liz might have engaged, she's still my sister, his daughter, and your granddaughter. I love her, and I have to believe you do as well."

If there was one thing which annoyed me about my grandfather's brand of Protestantism, it was the idea that some sins were so great that there was no possible chance of reconciliation and that it required, in effect, cutting that person off from any kind of fellowship, even within the family. It made a perverse kind of sense because, in their mind, that was how God treated sinners. For me, Jesus' own words were clear — he came not to save the righteous but to call sinners to repentance.

"When do you think we would need to visit?"

"As soon as possible," I said. "I can call Grandpa Mikhail immediately, then call you back and speak to Grandma."

"What about your mom?" he asked.

"She'll listen to Grandpa Mikhail and to her pastor if Dad can find it in himself to stop drinking and talk rationally about the situation."

Which was something I felt was going to be difficult to achieve, but I wasn't about to give up without a fight.

"Make the call to your other grandfather," Grandpa Loucks said.

"Thanks, Grandpa. I'll call you back in a bit."

We said 'goodbye', and I pressed the switchhook, then dialed Grandpa Mikhail's number. Grandma answered and called him to the phone. I explained what I needed and why.

"It's that bad?" he asked.

"Worse, I suspect."

"«Говно» (gavno)!" he replied. ("Shit")

"Mikhail!," I heard my grandmother reprimand.

"Grandpa, there's a lot you don't know about the situation that began about four years ago."

"I suspected as much. Your father's behavior with regard to Liz told me something more had happened, but you know I would never pry."

"In this case, I think you might need to. You and Grandpa Loucks need to talk to your kids and coöperate on trying to help them."

"That's a big ask for your other grandfather."

"I know. I asked."

"He and your grandmother are welcome here at any time. Just let me know."

"Thank you, «Дедушка» (deduskka)." ("Grandpa")

"How are things with the bishop?"

"Fine. I'll be at the Cathedral one more week, then take up my permanent assignment to Saint Michael the Archangel."

"Are things better between your wife and her mother?"

"Getting there," I said.

"Good," Grandpa Mikhail said. "Call me, or have Jonathan call me directly, please."

"Will do," I said.

We said 'goodbye' and I hung up, then went to sit with Elizaveta.

"Somebody is going to have to tell them what's really going on," she said.

"That's up to my parents and Liz," I replied.

"Can Paul get in any legal trouble?"

"I don't think so," I replied. "I'm not a lawyer, but once he completed his parole, he basically became a free man. Liz was eighteen when they first saw each other after he got out of prison, so I can't imagine there is anything anyone can do about that. And now they're legally married, which makes it difficult for any outside party to intervene. But I don't know definitively. The lawyer my mom works for might be able to shed light, but I don't think I should call him. And I don't think asking Mrs. Malenkov or one of Lara's parents is a good idea, either."

"Do either Father Herman or Father Nicholas know all the details?"

"Not all of them, no. Well, at least I don't think so. They know a lot, but not everything."

"Then I think you might want to tell your grandfathers everything that happened," Elizaveta said. "Then maybe between them, they can talk to their son and daughter and help them through this."

"I'd have to ask Liz," I replied. "I'm not sure how much of this she wants to be made even MORE public. You're one of the few who knows literally everything. You even know things my parents don't know because I felt they didn't need to know."

"Don't you think it's more difficult if they don't know?"

"Maybe," I replied. "But in the end, the really important thing right now is to get my dad to stop drinking and start talking to my mom. If that doesn't happen, we can't even begin to work on the underlying problems."

"I suppose so," Elizaveta said. "Are you going to call Liz?"

"Once I know that my grandparents are coming to visit. I'm sure I'll hear back from Grandpa Loucks later today."

There was a knock at the door just then. I walked over, and I wasn't sure who it might be, I pulled on my ryassa, then opened the door.

"Hi, Mike," my father-in-law said.

I shrugged off my ryassa and hung it up.

"Hi, Dad," I replied.

"I just wanted to let you know the results of the Parish Council elections. Tasha was elected, and I was reëlected."

"Very good," I replied. "And the rest?"

"Everyone who was running for reëlection won, save Mrs. Burton. Tasha beat her by twelve votes."

I shook my head, "I don't like the fact that there is only one new person on the Council, but one is better than none."

"Does that include me?" Viktor asked with a skeptical look on his face.

"I suggested to Father that we might be better off if there were limits on how long anyone could serve and that we split the elections so that we elect three one year and four the next."

"Term limits?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Yes. But something like only serving seven years out of any ten so that individuals could decide when to step away and could take a year off every few years if they wanted. How many on the Council are under age fifty?"

"Including Tasha, just one."

"I don't think the Council is very representative, do you?"

"We've had very little interest from younger people who want to serve on the Parish Council."

"Could that be because it's composed of mostly people in their fifties and sixties? And Mr. Kamarovsky is in his eighties."

"Your idea would basically mean an entirely new Parish Council in two years. That doesn't seem wise."

"Then maybe start the clock now," I replied. "And find a way to involve the people in their twenties and thirties. Having Tasha on the Council will help with the younger kids and let them feel as if their voices are being heard."

"That's going to be unpopular with some people."

"Maybe," I said. "But the one thing I've heard consistently from both Father Herman and Father Nicholas is how difficult it is to keep the young adults in our parishes. I think this will help."

"It's going to cause turmoil."

"Only if the older generation causes it," I said. "The younger people will leave when they marry or get jobs out of the area. If we don't do something to keep the younger people interested, we won't HAVE a parish."

"I hear you, Mike. I guess I need to think about this. Do you know what Father intends to do?"

"No. I only made the suggestion recently, and he needs to think about it and then speak with the bishop."

"OK. I won't take more of your time."

We shook hands, and he left and I went back to sit with Elizaveta.

"I think you're right," Elizaveta said. "And I'm glad Tasha is on the Parish Council. I think that will make the teens very happy."

"Me, too."

Just before 4:00pm, my grandfather called from Illinois to say that he would come to Ohio. I suggested he speak directly to Grandpa Mikhail and then have Grandpa Mikhail work out with Mom how to proceed. He agreed and said he'd ask my Grandpa Mikhail to let me know when they'd visit. Now, all I could do was wait.

Mark and Alyssa arrived on time, and once again, it was just the four of us because Tasha had called to say they wouldn't join us. We had a wonderful evening together, and just before they left, my Grandpa Mikhail called to say that my grandparents would arrive from Illinois on Thursday.

August 14, 1985, Rutherford, Ohio

On Wednesday morning, Elizaveta and I were up very early so we could drive to Rutherford to have breakfast with Paul and Liz, but also so Liz and I could talk before Paul arrived.

"There was one thing I didn't tell you on the phone," I said after the waitress brought our coffee and took our orders.

"What's that?"

"Grandma and Grandpa Loucks will be here tomorrow. They're staying at Grandpa Mikhail's house."

"Really?! Why?"

"To be blunt, Dad's drinking heavily, and unless something changes, he and Mom are going to end up divorced."

"You had to have called him," Liz observed. "What did you tell him?"

"Just that you and Paul were involved before you turned eighteen. That was enough for Grandpa Loucks to believe Dad had a reason to be upset."

"The fallen woman," Liz said, shaking her head. "Do you know what Mom and Dad told him about what happened four years ago?"

"Grandpa said he knew you 'fell in with a bad element' and got into drugs, and that's why you were in the hospital."

"I can't believe Dad is turning into an alcoholic because I married Paul!"

"Dad's problems are deeper than just you and Paul," I said. "I think, among other things, Dad is having a spiritual crisis."

Liz rolled her eyes, "Seriously? I swear, the BS at church..."

"Liz," Elizaveta said, "do you think your mom, grandparents, or Mike are messed up because of the Orthodox church?"

Liz laughed, "Mikey is just messed up in general!"

"Gee, thanks, Lizard Breath!" I chuckled.

"You know Grandpa Loucks will lose his mind if he sees you in the cassock, let alone the ryassa."

"Whatever," I replied. "But Elizaveta has a point."

"So, how does any of this help?"