Happy Thanksgiving from a Kind of Refugee!

a Kind of Refugee is tired.

Am I the only one who is spectacularly failing to keep up with all the “theaters”—virtual and even in real life—that I should be watching and appearing in? Facebook, Substack, specific people’s substacks, email, the Guardian, the war in Israel, the war in Ukraine, fundraising websites, the Telegram chat for the activists in my apartment building, the Telegram chat for the local Lindy Hop community, the chat for the Hero of Ukraine fundraising team, the secret group in Signal where I periodically get news about successful missions performed by our Backfire UAV… I scan Facebook to see who needs a donation, whose friend just died, who has a birthday; check my Ukrainian bank account, PayPal, US bank account; pay the monthly utility bills… Respond to the people who want something from me; reach out to those whose help I need; notice the Ukrainian friend who is living in my apartment after spending the past year and a half in France; remember my beloved friends with whom I converse so infrequently because there are just not enough minutes in a day…

When Kevin stopped by to drop off a bag, we sat in the kitchen and talked. About dancing and young men with amputated legs; about root cellars, death, pistol shooting, and books… I told him that while visiting my friends in the US last summer I suddenly thought, “I’ve had a good life.” It was a switch from the usual projecting my life into the future—imagining what I could be doing, who I might become. It’s not that I’m done or ready to die (though death doesn’t care). But the projecting part of me is spent.

Last week I submitted my book manuscript. Then I went to Lviv for a couple days. I had a paid translation gig. Really, this was my vacation. Complete with an evening of the most sumptuous jazz improvisation (in the company of friends old and new), where witnessing the musicians’ subtle playfulness—like being in on a private joke—makes you smile out loud.

Then I came home and was elected to the Board of our “building cooperative.” Oops. The position, of course, is unpaid. How I got there is a long, dramatic story, filled with colorful characters, that would make a fantastic documentary film about Ukrainians’ ongoing, painful transition from the Soviet culture / structures / customs that have organized everyday life to exercising their will to self-government (which is awkward and messy and still fizzes with boisterous energy).

In the US, it’s Thanksgiving Day. Please put down your phone, get up from the computer, and go relish the company of the folks around you, the sounds and smells, the feeling of walking across the room or moving around outside. This kind of being is what I am most grateful for.

PS You know Ukrainians are still fighting and dying to diminish russia’s campaign of destruction. Their sacrifice supports your peace. My innovative friends of the Zli Ptakhy (Angry Birds) combat drone unit have received national recognition from Ukraine’s Minister for Digital Transformation for their Backfire drone: https://x.com/FedorovMykhailo/status/1726616078133178758?s=20

Donate here to help them expand production (which means more successful combat missions): https://heroesukraine.org/en/backfire-uavs-for-zli-ptakhy/