Chapter 55: That's a Good Thing

November 26, 1988, Naperville, Illinois

"I never met anyone like that in Paris," Kris said when I finished the story of my run-ins with people from Faith Bible Church.

"It seems, at least from what I've read, to be unique amongst American Evangelicals, or at least far more prevalent than it is in England or Australia, which would be the places to compare it to, given our shared heritage."

"In France, people like that would generally be ignored and shunned in polite society because of secularism."

"Out of curiosity, how are the Orthodox viewed?"

"As any other church — a private organization which is expected to conform to French civil norms."

"And when there is a conflict?" I asked.

"There is no conflict with me acting as a believer and doing the things which I believe I am called upon by my faith to do, but that doesn't relieve me of my obligation to French society not to be, well, a jerk about it!"

I laughed, "The French have something of a reputation of being jerks here, but often it's directed at waiters and chefs. Of course, Americans as a whole, consider French cooking to be superlative."

"Of course they do!" Kris declared mirthfully.

"I'm partial to Italian," I replied. "But I think that's more due to it being, well, 'peasant food' the way it's used here — inexpensive, tasty, and filling. And yes, I know Italian-American food is not the same as actual Italian food."

"You know 'Italian food' is a generalization, and it is regional, right?"

"Yes. And I also know that what we call 'Chinese' food is really variations developed by immigrants in California, not what is necessarily eaten in China. There is, on the other hand, an authentic Japanese restaurant near Columbus."

"And how do you know it's authentic?"

"I went there with a Japanese girl I was dating named Kimiko, who was here with her family while her dad was here as a research fellow at Battelle. She's back in Japan now, and married to an American friend of mine."

"Was she Orthodox?" Kris asked.

"No, but many of her beliefs were compatible, and Japanese tradition is for the woman to adopt her husband's religious practices."

"As if!" Kris exclaimed.

"You're French, not Japanese!" I said with a grin. "The French are free to run France as they see fit, the Japanese to run Japan as they see fit, and the US to run the world as we see fit!"

Kris laughed, "We French have something of that problem as well. Do you believe it?"

"No, of course not, but to hear our politicians, you would think so."

"Ours, too. Going back to where we started, what will the funeral service be like?"

"I honestly don't know for sure," I replied. "I surmise Scripture reading, prayers, and hymns, both by a choir and congregational, and a lengthy sermon. I've never actually been to any funeral that wasn't Orthodox or Roman Catholic."

"The same for me," Kris replied.

"We should probably get back," I observed. "We've been gone about an hour."

Kris agreed, and we walked hand-in-hand back to the house.

November 27, 1988, Naperville, Illinois

On Sunday morning, despite a bit of pressure from my grandmother and her friends, Kris and I declined to attend services with them, and instead drove to Saint Athanasios Greek Orthodox Church in Aurora, which was about twenty minutes away. As with every Greek church I'd been in, it had pews, though otherwise it was a typical basilica-style Orthodox Church. It was larger than Saint Michael the Archangel, and in fact, almost as large as our cathedral in Columbus, but the Greeks had both more people and more money.

The service was nearly identical, with only minor variations surrounding the Great Entrance, which the Greeks did as a long procession going from the altar to the back of the church, then back to the altar, whereas in our tradition, the Great Entrance was done by leaving the altar, crossing just in front of the solea, then re-entering the altar.

That difference was mostly down to a difference in church buildings, with the norm in Russia being small, village churches, which tended to be packed with congregants, leaving no room for a procession to the back of the nave and a return to the Royal Doors, versus larger Greek basilicas which had sufficient space for that kind of procession to occur.

A few of the hymns were in Greek, but both Kris and I knew them, as they were occasionally used in Greek in Russian churches as well. The other obvious difference was the vestment style. Greeks wore lighter, looser fitting vestments compared to Russians, and their phelon lacked the high, stiff cloth at the back of the neck. These differences came down to weather in each region, with Greek vestments being much cooler during the Summer, and Russian vestments being much warmer during the Winter.

Kris and I both received the Eucharist, and when the service ended, we joined the congregation for a light lunch in their parish hall. We were greeted warmly and had a nice meal with a group of young people about our ages. Once we finished, we thanked them for their hospitality, asked the priest's blessing, and then left the church.

"Could we go to a park or somewhere to spend some time together?" Kris asked as I pulled out of the parking lot.

"Not interested in sitting with my grandmother all afternoon?" I asked.

"Not really. I don't have anything in common with those women and I mostly just sat there and listened to them talk."

"Same with the guys until my dad returned, but even then, I mostly sat and listened. There were a few questions about church, but I was very careful not to cause any offense, given we were in my grandmother's house. To answer your question, I saw a forest preserve on the way to church. Those are basically public parks with walking paths, at least according to my dad."

"That would be fine."

I drove back to Springbrook Prairie Forest Preserve, which we'd passed on the way to church, and parked in the lot. Kris and I got out of the car and walked over to a trail map, which showed a trail of five-and-a-half miles.

"Shall we take the entire route?" I asked. "It's just under nine kilometers."

"That sounds good," Kris replied. "You did that conversion in your head?"

I laughed, "It's easy enough! And I figured kilometers were better for you."

"Your system is so silly! It's totally inconsistent!"

"There was a push to switch to the metric system in the 70s, but there was a public backlash against it, with all manner of crazy objections, and that killed it. We ended up with two-liter bottles of pop and 750ml 'fifths' of liquor, and that's about it."

I took Kris' hand, and we set out along the path at a pace I judged would bring us back to the parking lot in about ninety minutes.

"Is there anything that concerns you?" I asked.

"You mean about us?"

"Or anything, really?"

"I don't think so, except for what I suppose I'd call the 'unknowns'. I've never been married, never been a mom, and so on. And really, that's just not knowing what it will be like. I do want to do it."

"I had similar feelings before Rachel was born about being a dad. Then, with what happened, I had to basically figure it out for myself, with help from my friends. All of that just seemed to come naturally for Elizaveta."

"But not for me," Kris replied. "I was never domestic in the way she appears to have been."

"One thing I learned, and I mean no disrespect to Elizaveta, is that I can do all the domestic things, including caring for my daughter as a single dad. And if I do need help, there are plenty of people who I can ask, and plenty more who will be happy to offer opinions even if not asked!"

Kris laughed, "I've seen that with the older ladies at church when younger girls have babies. Your mom seems OK, though."

"Only because I'm basically doing things the way she would. My dad once said that when I spoke, he heard my mom. Except for the incident I told you about, we pretty much see eye-to-eye. It's my dad and I who are very different, and given the circumstances, he's not one to try to give advice unless I were to ask."

"And my grandmothers are in Paris, so I can safely ignore any advice they give without repercussions. My mom is as mellow as yours is."

"I believe they like each other, and certainly everyone got along at my grandparents' house on Thanksgiving."

"I think so, too," Kris agreed. "Mom said she's received about seventy-five percent of the replies so far, and only a few of them are 'regrets'. Everyone on our 'important' lists has said they'll attend."

"That's good. Is there anything left to do?"

"Just get married!" Kris declared.

We walked quietly for about ten minutes, enjoying the quiet. There were other people around, but nobody was loud. The only thing missing was Rachel, but even though I missed her, I felt it was wise to have her stay with my mom rather than subject her to the travel and mess up her schedule. I'd heard enough horror stories about babies or toddlers getting out of sync, and, in effect, swapping their days for nights, and that was the last thing I wanted.

"What are you thinking about?" Kris asked.

"Rachel," I replied.

"You miss her?"

"Absolutely, but I was also thinking it was better not to stress her by bringing her on this trip. That said, I'm certain I want to take her to Gatlinburg with us next Summer. I can't imagine being away from her for ten days, nor do I think she'll appreciate it."

"Everything was OK when you called last night, though, right?"

"Yes, of course! My mom said Rachel is fine. She's asked for 'dada' a couple of times, but she hasn't been upset about it. And my mom is in her element as grandma now."

"What time do you plan to leave on Tuesday?"

"Right after breakfast, I think. That gets us to my mom's house around 3:00pm. We'll take you home from there, then head home ourselves. Is that OK?"

"It is, but why not have my parents pick me up at your house? That would save you nearly an hour of driving, and they'll be happy to do it."

"That would be fine."

"How about we have them pick me up after dinner?"

"That works for me! The more time we can spend together, the better. That's going to be the real challenge starting in July."

"Yes, but we're both prepared for it, and it's only the first year that's really bad, right?"

"Yes."

"Did you create a budget?"

"I did, and we'll be in very good shape. My plan, as I said, is to buy a house, and I think the best time will be after my second year of Residency, so about two-and-a-half years from now. I have enough saved for a good down payment, and my salary during my third year will be around $43,000, which is more than enough to qualify for a mortgage. At that point, we start building equity in a house, rather than paying rent."

"We don't need much for the house, though, right? I mean, beyond the furniture we ordered."

"Correct. I have basically everything we need for the kitchen, though some of it is packed away because I haven't needed it."

"I know this might be a delicate question, but what about Elizaveta's things?"

"I saved three sweaters and her jewelry, all of which will go to Rachel. The rest I'll donate. I decided that on Saturday when I started packing. I hope that's OK."

"Yes, of course! Rachel should have those things. I'm not competing with Elizaveta for Rachel's affections."

"Do you feel you are for mine?" I asked.

"I know you two loved each other deeply, and losing her hurt you, and I think a part of your heart will always belong to her. But I don't feel as if you're comparing us in a bad way or that I don't measure up. I suppose I should ask directly — do you compare us?"

"I have," I replied, "but only to note the differences, and not in a way that reflects negatively on either of you. We've discussed your views on marriage versus hers, and I respect both. It's true that I once felt that a stay-at-home mom was better for Rachel, but after fifteen months, I don't feel the same way. In effect, harsh reality intruded on my idyllic 1950s worldview."

"We discussed that!"

I chuckled, "I know. But that doesn't mean I didn't have it!"

"You're very strange in that you have very modern ideas, but also very old ones."

"I'm Orthodox, so of course!"

"There's a difference between Church tradition and old-fashioned sexist thinking."

"I got better!"

"It's a good thing, too," Kris declared. "Or we wouldn't be betrothed!"

"You missed my reference to Monty Python and the Holy Grail! Have you seen it?"

"Yes, but I don't recall that line."

"It's when Sir Bedevere asks a peasant why he thinks a woman is a witch, and the peasant replies that she turned him into a newt. When Sir Bedevere questions him, he says he got better."

"I should ask who was the witch who turned you into a 1950s man!"

I chuckled, "More like a warlock. Those were my dad's ideas, from his dad."

"I thought your mom worked."

"She did, after Liz started kindergarten. Before that, she was a stay-at-home mom."

"I still find it amazing that your paternal grandmother never went to college and never worked."

"That's very common for her generation, especially amongst conservatives, and even more so with Evangelicals. My grandfather would never have allowed my grandmother to work once they married."

"That's just so wrong!" Kris protested.

"And yet, according to my dad, that's what my grandmother wanted. It is, as they say, a free country!"

"But is she really free?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. I only know from what I heard from my dad."

"And he basically repeated it with Holly, didn't he? She graduated from High School, married him, now stays home with the kids."

"Yes, though Grandpa is only six years older than Grandma, not thirty!"

"Is that a problem for you?"

"Only insofar as my dad got on my case about marrying Elizaveta when she was sixteen and I was twenty-two. Do you see anything that I believe or do that's going to cause you concern?"

"You asked that before and the answer is still 'no'!" Kris declared.

"Sorry!"

"No need to apologize. I totally understand wanting to be sure. You can be sure, too, that I will let you know in the future if there is anything."

"So, underneath that French exterior is a Russian woman?"

Kris laughed, "As if you expected otherwise! But I'm also not of the same mindset as the Russians I've met here, who tend to be much more conservative."

"Compared to you, ninety percent of America is more conservative!"

"We'll just have to work on that, won't we?!"

We both laughed, then walked quietly for most of the rest of the circuit, arriving back at the car about ninety minutes after we'd left. We drove back to my grandmother's house, where I spent some time with my dad and Kris spent some time with Holly, which I felt was a good thing.

"Was there any fallout about your engagement?" Dad asked.

"No. I believe the bishop's stern lecture ensured that wouldn't happen. Have you and Holly been going to church?"

"No. She was raised Lutheran and stopped going to church right after she was confirmed. I don't think she's interested."

"Are you? And I don't mean an Orthodox church, I mean any church."

"At this point, does it matter?"

"It always matters, Dad!" I said. "There is no unforgivable sin save rejection of God's love."

"You know what your grandfather thought."

I nodded, "I do, and, respectfully, he was wrong. He is, at the moment, quite surprised."

"You think your grandfather is in hell?!" Dad gasped.

"Not at all! His surprise is how many people are in heaven!"

Dad laughed for the first time since I'd arrived in Chicago, which I thought was a good sign. Laughter, it turned out, was good medicine.

"I'm not sure if you heard this one," I said, "but I think it's apropos:"

Dad smiled, "I've heard a variation. You can dispense with the other Baptist jokes, because I've heard them all!"

"And the Russian ones from Grandpa Borodin, I'm sure."

"Yes, of course."

"How are you doing?"

"OK, I think. When he had his first heart attack, I realized it could happen, and when he had the second one, well ... you know. I don't know how you do it."

"I don't think you'll appreciate my answer."

"'I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me'?"

"Trite, and only a small part of the answer. Prayer, fasting, Scripture, liturgics, and friends. And I have the ultimate motivation."

"Your medical training?"

"Your granddaughter!" I countered. "Medical training comes in second behind Rachel. Maybe it doesn't seem that way because I send her to daycare and have friends look after her, but she is my priority, even if I'm not handling things in a conventional, conservative way."

"I notice you didn't mention Kris."

"Given she's living at home and going to school, we only see her on weekends, but we spend them together. Once January rolls around, and Kris and I are married, then she'll be directly involved day-to-day. Rachel already calls her 'mama'."

"Isn't that a bit premature?" Dad asked.

"Once you're betrothed, you need ecclesiastical permission to break things off. Well, you can break them off, but until the bishop grants the functional equivalent of an ecclesiastical divorce, you cannot marry someone else."

Dad shook his head, "You need permission to break an engagement. And you really go for that?"

"It's only a concern in cases where someone follows the older tradition, rather than doing the ceremonies back-to-back."