The Second American Revolution - The Building of an Empire Page 7

  “Bye Jerrick. I love you.”

  Then the phone line became silent.

  Jerrick felt uneasy with butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He wondered how his mom took the news.

  A few days later, Jerrick snatched a letter from his mailbox with a return address, Holland, Michigan.

  He tore open the envelope, and pulled out a money order for a $1,000 and a note. Money order was from the SuperSaver grocery store in Holland, a little independent grocery store that fought the big corporations for survival.

  Jerrick unfolded the note and recognized his mother’s fancy cursive handwriting with letters having exaggerated loops.

  ‘Your dad took out a loan from the bank. He did that for your graduation gift. We both want to meet your girlfriend before you leave in May. We’ll see you at graduation. Love Mom.'

  Jerrick and Lidya walked three blocks to Main Street, where all the major businesses in town were located. City tried to lure the big chain stores, but they avoided this place because Upper Michigan was dying since the closing of the iron mines in the 1960s.

  The university is the only thing growing in this small, dying town. University administration constructed a large 10-story administration building, the tallest building in Upper Michigan. Building was encased in a dark, opaque glass and visible from everywhere on campus as the dark tower projected its menacing presence over the campus, letting the students and professors know who was in command.

  Jerrick and Lidya walked to the bank and cashed the money order. Then they stopped at the drug store for passport photos and ran to the passport office in the post office.

  After the post office, Jerrick took Lidya to a restaurant.

  “Nothing too fancy Jerrick, you still have some expenses coming up,” Lidya said sweetly.

  “Expenses, like what?”

  “You need to buy airline tickets and a Russia visa.”

  “Ah; I thought the hard part was over.”

  “Nope, it gets harder.”

  They stopped at Jay’s Place, a relic from the last century. Jay’s was popular with the students because it served the cheapest beer in town. After 10 at night, students would fight the crowds to get into this place.

  However, Jerrick and Lidya came in around two in the afternoon. Only a couple of patrons were there including Professor Okins, who sat alone eating a hamburger and reading a book. He wore his school’s colors, Louisiana State University.

  Jerrick heeded Lidya’s advice. He ordered himself a burger and fries while Lidya ordered a salad drizzled with honey-Dijon dressing with strips of crispy chicken.

  Three weeks later, Jerrick received his passport in the mail. Next, Jerrick and Lidya quickly departed for the travel agency near the campus. Jerrick pulled out a thick wad of cash and counted $700 for the airline tickets to Russia.

  They faced the hard task, obtaining a one-year Russia visa.

  Lidya wrote a letter in Russian and slid Jerrick’s passport, a photocopy of her passport, and a money order for $80 into a large manila envelope. Next, they paid express service at the post office to rush the envelope to the Russian Embassy in Washington, D.C.

  Jerrick meted down his parent’s graduation gift to a meager $100. He looked at Lidya and asked, “Are you still hungry?”

  “Yes, let’s go. We can get a bottle of wine.”

  Jerrick learned his first lesson about Russia. It possessed the strictest and strangest immigration laws in the whole world. Although the walls of the Soviet Union crashed down, the Russian government remained suspicious of outsiders. Travelers can’t hop on an airplane and enter Russia. Outsiders need a ‘Preglashenia’ or an invitation in English. A tourist agency, relatives, or a business must invite the traveler to Russia.

  Arriving in Russia, the foreigner must register with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, known infamously in Russia as OVIR.

  Before your visa had expired, then the traveler must leave. Staying an extra day, Russian Passport Control won’t let the traveler leave as he or she fights numerous government agencies to get an exit visa.

  Two weeks later, Jerrick pulled an envelope from his mailbox and noticed the return address was the Russian Embassy in Washington, D.C.

  Opening the envelope, his heart rate accelerated, and he became nervous because the envelope was light with no documents in it.

  When Jerrick tilted the envelope, his passport slid out.

  He quickly scanned through his passport and spotted the Russian visa on page 11. The Russian government had approved his visit to Moscow. Jerrick would chase the woman, whom he loved, half way across the world.

  ***

  Night before graduation, May 17, 2002, Jerrick’s parents arrived at Jerrick’s dorm room at six at night.

  Lidya trembled a litte and sat quietly on the couch, picking her nails. She spent almost an hour at the mirror in her dorm room, dabbing makeup on her face and styling her hair. Meeting Jerrick’s parents for the first time, she wanted to make a good first impression.

  Jerrick and Lidya heard a soft tapping at the door and then a muffled, “Jerrick! Jerrick! Are you there?”

  Jerrick recognized his dad’s voice anywhere.

  Jerrick rushed to the door. He hesitated for a second as he glanced at Lidya, ensuring everything was perfect.

  Then he opened the door, letting his parents walk in.

  Before Jerrick had said a word, his mom grabbed and hugged him, “Son; I’ve missed you.”

  Then she planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

  His dad came in second, shaking his hand, “You did it boy!”

  Then Lidya stood up and greeted his parents, “Hello; my name is Lidya.”

  Lidya shook his mom’s hand first and then his dad’s.

  Subsequently, his dad turned to Jerrick and mouthed the word ‘Wow,’ making sure Lidya didn’t see the exchange between two men.

  Jerrick’s dad asked jovially, “Are you guys hungry?”

  “Yes; I thought you would never ask,” Jerrick replied.

  Everyone left the dorm room and piled into the car. Lidya and Jerrick sat in the back seat.

  Lidya reached over and held Jerrick’s hand.

  Jerrick’s dad drove them to an old-fashioned steakhouse. Pulling into the parking lot, they saw an old ranch styled building with old, sun faded wooden paneling on the outside.

  As Jerrick’s dad pulled into a parking spot, he turned his head to look at Jerrick and Lidya and uttered, “You guys can have anything you want. It’s my treat.”

  “Ah right, I want a t-bone steak,” Jerrick declared.

  His mom turned, shooting him a dirty look.

  Mr. Davis drove through the full parking lot, searching for an empty spot.

  Then they exited the car and strolled into the restaurant.

  Walking through the main door, they smelled sizzling hamburgers, grilling steaks, and bread baking in the oven.

  Group marveled over the 1950s advertising metallic signs that adorned the walls. Restaurant had a rustic, at home type of feeling as if we were visiting grandma’s and grandpa’s house in the country.

  Although the restaurant was packed with patrons, the waitress found them a booth near the entrance.

  Jerrick and Lidya never ventured into this pricey restaurant, beyond the means of a poor college student’s budget.

  Jerrick studied the old signs on the wall that advertised brands of soda he never seen before. Then he noticed the brand, Nehi.

  His dad caught him staring and asked, “You never saw Nehi? You had it as a kid before they went out of business. They made grape, orange, lime and other flavors.”

  Waitress led them to a booth and handed everyone a menu.

  Jerrick ordered a Jamaican chicken, Lidya, a smoked salmon; Jerrick’s mom, lasagna while his dad ordered a filet mignon.

  The waitress set a plate of freshly baked bread on the table’s center of the table and placed a bowl of Caesar's salad with homemade croutons an
d salad dressing in front of us.

  Waiting for the main entrées, Jerrick’s parents quizzed Lidya as if they were KGB agents, eliciting secret information.

  Jerrick's dad began the interrogation and asked, “Where are you from?”

  “Russia, outside of Moscow.”

  His mom inquired, “Where will Jerrick live?”

  “My parents own an extra apartment. I’ll stay with my parents and see Jerrick during the day at the apartment.”

  Jerrick glanced at Lidya with a sly grin. She was good, but she raised a good point. Lidya’s parents might not let Lidya spend the night with him.

  Mr. Davis persisted, “What will Jerrick do in Russia?”

  “He can teach English. Schools pay okay while he works towards his Master’s degree. We have an institute a few blocks over from the apartment.”

  Jerrick’s mom shot Lidya a dirty look because she didn’t know anything about an institute, or whether a Russian degree held any weight here in Michigan.

  Waitress brought their meals over.

  Lidya used the distraction to excuse herself from the interrogation. She stood up and said, “I must go to the ladies' room.”

  After Lidya had walked out of earshot, Jerrick’s mom turned to face him and whispered, “Are you sure you want to go to Russia? I like her, but Russia is so far away”

  For the first time, in a very long time, his dad stomped his foot onto the ground, and he turned to face his wife, “Let him go, Dorothy. More factories are closing in Michigan. I heard rumors that more trucking routes may be cut. Perhaps he can have a good future over there. There isn’t much over here for him anymore.”

  Then his dad faced Jerrick, and added, “Jerrick, if you get into trouble, we can’t help you. We could scrounge money for a plane ticket, but you know we’re not rich.”

  “Thanks dad,” Jerrick replied; he knew his dad meant it, and from the male-to-male subliminal communication, his dad liked his girlfriend.

  If Jerrick only knew, what his dad really thought. Jerrick didn’t know, but his dad was experiencing a mid-life crisis.

  Each mile his dad drove on the road, he aged. Sometimes, on long hauls, he picked up the nasty, street women who serviced the truck stops, reliving his youthful exploits. If he were just a little younger, he would be buying a plane ticket and head over to Russia with his son. If all Russian women looked like Lidya, he would never leave. If Lidya were a tad prettier, she would make a perfect, trophy wife.

  Rest of the meal went smoothly.

  Jerrick wished he had a camera. He never saw his dad pay a $100 food tab. His father usually complained about a light meal at McDonald’s. Of course, it wasn’t every day that your only son graduated from college and would chase a beautiful woman around the world. If anything, that made great conversation. It beats the ole, ‘I had to bail my boy out of jail again.'

  Group left the restaurant and climbed back into the car.

  Mr. Davis arrived at Jerrick’s dormitory, parking the car near the main entrance.

  Mr. Davis turned his head to look at the back seat and asked, “If you want, we can drop Lidi off at her dorm?”

  “Dad; her name is Lidya. Her name has a ya on the end. You don’t need to drop her off. Her dorm is right over there,” as Jerrick pointed to a building in the distance and added, “I’ll walk her home.”

  His dad smiled because he knew better. He wondered if his wife bought that lie. His dad knew that once he had pulled away, Jerrick and Lidya would head up to his room.

  Both Lidya and Jerrick got out.

  Before Jerrick had shut the door, his dad stated, “I’ll see you tomorrow, exactly at 8. We’ll have breakfast.”

  Then his parents drove away into the darkness.

  Just on schedule, Jerrick’s parents picked them up at eight, and they ate breakfast at the local diner, Shortcakes.

  His dad pulled up to the old, worn out diner, his favoriate places. Jerrick and Lidya cringed because the restaurant was housed in an ancient trailer, but the best part was breakfast for four did not exceed $20.

  Jerrick cut his omelet with a fork before shoveling it into his mouth, inspecting every nugget of food, searching for ‘special’ ingredients. Shortcakes was famous or infamous, depending on the customer. A dirty, run down place infested with cockroaches served the breakfast in town and the best in the state of Michigan.

  At nine, they headed to the university to the indoor basketball stadium.

  Both Lidya and Jerrick donned on their caps and gowns. Then they entered the basketball court, where the ceremony graduated a class of 900 students.

  Parents filled the balconies and bleachers, row after row of chairs lined across the basketball court.

  Although Lidya and Jerrick studied in the school of business, Lidya sat five rows behind him.

  College graduation ceremony was much larger than his high school and much longer. Some doctor from Chicago gave the opening speech. After he had spoken, the audience clapped loudly, and the university president handed him an honorary doctorate.

  Then the president gave a speech. Then the announcer began calling out the graduates’ names.

  Ceremony was similar to high school.

  Announcer called Jerrick’s name, and he walked down to the stage, walked up the three steps, and approached the university president.

  President shook his hand and then handed him a blank diploma.

  Jerrick met the university’s president for the first time. He only saw him in college and local newspapers. With the high school principal, Jerrick and he were on a first-name basis.

  Jerrick graduated summa cum laude with a Bachelor’s degree in finance and a minor in mathematics.

  Lidya earned with high grades, graduating magna cum laude with a Bachelor’s degree in management.

  At about two, the ceremony had ended, and Jerrick’s parents were leaving the bleachers.

  Jerrick and Lidya fought the crowds to find his parents.

  Then the group walked to his parents’ car. After they had made it to the car, his dad turned to Jerrick and embraced him, “Sorry son, I have a long-haul tomorrow. We must return to Holland. Good luck, Jerrick and Lid-Ya.”

  Climbing into the car, his dad glanced at Lidya, scanning her from head to toes. His dad approved Jerrick’s choice in women.

  Then Jerrick’s parents drove away.

  His Life Abroad

  Jerrick was nervous about leaving the United States because he never left the State of Michigan. Now, he hopped on a jet to fly half way around the world, chasing after a Russian woman.

  Jerrick viewed this trip as a way to further his education about the Soviet Union. Although the Soviet Union collapsed over 10 years ago, he would witness first-hand the impact, when government controlled a whole economy.

  Lidya returned to Moscow, Russia first, and Jerrick arrived a week later.

  Lidya picked up Jerrick at Sheremetyevo International Airport in Moscow, located on the western outskirts of Moscow.

  After Jerrick had passed through Passport Control and Russian Immigration, he saw Lidya standing in a waiting area. Boy, did she look good. She wore a skimpy blouse, fixed up her long, blonde hair, and her jeans were so tight; they outlined the contours of her long, thin legs perfectly.

  If Jerrick could get away with it, he would rip her clothes off right there and make hot, passionate love to her on the bench; right next to the old Russian couple.

  Jerrick grabbed his luggage and raced over to her. He dropped his luggage and hugged her tightly. Boy, did she smell good too.

  Then he let her go.

  “How was your flight, Jerrick?”

  “Boy it was incredible. I sat on a plane for three hours from Michigan to Washington, D.C. and another 13 hours to Moscow. I am jetlagged but not tired. I had trouble swallowing the airplane food.”

  “Let’s go to my parent’s extra apartment. You can change and shower there, and then we can get something to eat,
” Lidya said, leading Jerrick from the airport and to the parking lot.

  Jerrick picked up his suitcases and trailed after Lidya.

  Jerrick felt his crotch itch and thought ‘wait until we get to the apartment.' My little friend wants to say hi to you too.

  Jerrick and Lidya walked a long distance until they reached the far side of the parking lot, where Lidya parked an old Lada.

  “Wow, an old Soviet car from the 1960s.”

  “Nope, my parents bought it new in 1989. Once a Soviet factory starts making a product, the Soviet planners rarely change the design.”

  “I guess if it ain’t broken, then don’t tamper with it,” Jerrick replied, feigning cleverness.

  Lidya stared at Jerrick, and she smiled slyly.

  Jerrick put his luggage into the trunk and hopped in the passenger side.

  Lidya sat in the driver’s seat and started the car.

  Engine turned over a couple of times as several plumes of black smoke coughed out the exhaust. Then it started.

  Jerrick snickered a little because the engine sounded similar to a loud, weak lawnmower engine.

  Lidya pulled the death machine onto the highway and headed south.

  Jerrick stared in awe at Russian architecture. Moscow was the center and capital of the Soviet Union, and the Russians built impressive public buildings that were over 500 years old.

  Jerrick learned the center of Moscow is the Kremlin and Red Square, the power center of the Soviet Union. Then the rest of Moscow emanates out from the center in waves. Approaching the outskirts, the buildings become more modern, more Soviet.

  Moscow has three styles: pre-Soviet, early Soviet, and ugly Soviet. Pre-Soviet architecture mirrors the baroque style of Europe while Soviet planners spared no expense constructing buildings during the early Soviet architecture. They call this era the Stalin Empire Architecture. Theaters, concert halls, hospitals, and government buildings used tall impressive Roman columns, marble steps, ornamental terra-cotta designs complete with statues. If you were to peek inside these buildings, they had 10-foot chandeliers, elaborate crown molding, marble floors and walls. The Communists leaders impressed their citizens, showing how communism improved everyone’s lives.

  Jerrick described late Soviet architecture with one word, boxy. Buildings were tall, square, and quite simple as if the Soviet planners used large concrete dominoes to piece those buildings together. Inside, it became worse. Pipes and wires snaked along the walls, completely exposed to the outside world.