May 2004
Dear Jami
It's late morning here in Odessa, Ukraine on the Black Sea. . .about 2 a.m. in Texas and Oklahoma. My goodness, I feel good here . . .I was meant to be here. My old friends greeted me and smiled to have me back "home". They tell me this country is my home because I have the heart of these people. It's a different place today than 10 years ago. Some secret police still roam around now and then, but people are free to go mostly where they want to go. And today the people are free to be right here with me.
I had a little friend help me go to sleep last night. Jet lag is still affecting me. But my friend Mr. Ambien did wonders for me. I slept all night. . . ten hours. Of course my biological time clock said it was 2 in the afternoon when I was going to bed and this morning when I woke up it said it was midnight. Confusing to my body.
I just had some wonderful green tea and toast. I know you'd have loved it.. . still a lite diet today I think. Maybe tomorrow my body will be adjusted and I can gorge myself. My hotel here has a beautiful tree lined park across the street. I took my tea and toast to eat while I read my Pasternak poetry book. I have an apple too that the housekeeper left for me yesterday. Bright red. . . polished I think. The park separates the buildings (including my hotel) from the sea. It's sooooooooo beautiful. It is sort of like New York City's central park in Odessa . . . only long and narrow. The street my hotel is on, is named Primorsky Blvd. . . and so hence the name Primorsky Park. The name reminds me of a movie I saw once called Gorky Park.
Two hundred years ago, Russia was ruled by Catherine the Great and she decreed that a "great" city be built here on the sea. Her decree was carried out, and I get to enjoy it today. Huge trees lining either side and covering the top of the park like continuous umbrellas. People sitting and reading. . . some walking. many children playing. A few minstrels singing . . . my favorite . . the one playing Sting music on a mandolin . . Fields of Gold . . . . lovers walking and holding hands . . . they don't see me even though they walk right in front of me . . . they only see each other . . . and the park . . . couples on the grass on a blanket reading or talking, a man reading poetry to another man and two women . . . he's raising his arms and hands for expression . . .these people are so passionate . . . old women and men eating bread and cheese on the benches . . I'm sure it will be one of two meals they have today . . the other being cabbage and beet soup tonight . . . I am reminded now of how wonderful simple things can be. . blessed. Life is passing them all by slowly today in Primorsky park . . . warmly. casually. calmly. The clock does not tic in Primorsky Park. It is soothing my soul too as I sit on the park bench with my own book of poetry and now with my apple that I brought. I peel the apple in one long slow twisting motion . . . one long peel . . . there's no hurry to do anything in this place . . .. a cruise ship is coming into the harbor behind me blowing its horn. Hundreds of people in the distance behind me on the pier waving up to the arriving passengers. It seems to me that people enjoy this place all equally. Money cannot buy happiness in this place. The poor man enjoys it the same as I do. The old couple tonight will enjoy their soup the same as I will enjoy my caviar. Some people in designer style, most others in casual, a few in peasant garb. . . I have on my jeans, t shirt, and tennis shoes - for all they know . . . I will have soup for dinner tonight . . . they all take in the park with the same smile . . . regardless of wealth. There is no status in the park. . . just many people with the same status. Peaceful. Happy people. They are all happy for springtime in Odessa. And today I am happy for it too. It is a good feeling to have a moment of just being happy for no other reason than you're alive and well . . . and thankful that a flower is growing next to my seat in the park and gives me its fragrance freely with no expectation from me. I have no need to do anything for this flower. I had no price of admission for the enjoyment that it is bringing me. No penance to pay. The people around me charge no fee for me to watch them play out the performance of their lives. Lives do not flow in rivers here in Primorsky Park. . . just in gentle brooks. I can be a part of all of them and they can be a part of me today. . . . I can watch others lives flow slowly by me.
I hope you enjoyed the tea and toast and apple with me. I would have been happy to have had you here with me to let me read my poetry book to. Perhaps the birds were able to understand me. I am imagining that they can hear my thoughts and have come here to my feet to listen to me softly speak the words that Yuri wrote to Lara. All Russians revered this man. And I will imagine that even the birds do too. I will file this time away now in my Memory Palace and come back to this park many times. It's a more wonderful place than Hectic Avenue
