I'll have to read Drew's book......thank you for capturing the weirdness of the former Soviet Republics and their break away cousins. I spent my childhood crossing borders. Became oblivious to guns, dogs, stern looking men, the smells, barbed wire, tank obstacles. This story brought it all back. Of course, my father handled the talking -- we children were not to utter a word at a border. However, we had other tasks.....if going into the USSR from Finland, for example, my brother and I would have filled up paper bags (no plastics then) with good air to be sipped sweetly in memory as we drove toward Moscow. A fave game of dip brats was border guard....so weird in retrospect. Totally cool then.
I'll have to read Drew's book......thank you for capturing the weirdness of the former Soviet Republics and their break away cousins. I spent my childhood crossing borders. Became oblivious to guns, dogs, stern looking men, the smells, barbed wire, tank obstacles. This story brought it all back. Of course, my father handled the talking -- we children were not to utter a word at a border. However, we had other tasks.....if going into the USSR from Finland, for example, my brother and I would have filled up paper bags (no plastics then) with good air to be sipped sweetly in memory as we drove toward Moscow. A fave game of dip brats was border guard....so weird in retrospect. Totally cool then.
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