This account is also derived from a series of emails home from internet cafes in RussiaDear Friends and Family, Short answer: We are still alive. The kid is wonderful and healthy. OK, some more details for those of you with time or interest to read the REST of the story: We flew out of Dulles on Monday afternoon. The skies were bright and clear, and we took that as a good omen. We return to Russia this time with Jim's stepmother Florence, aka "Jake," who is with us to help us handle new parenthood and a massive plane ride. Also, she raises our collective baggage kilogram limit form 40 kg to 60 kg. We joke that she is officially "baggage". This is actually an important concern since the Russians weigh everything, and we needed to take several toys and clothes-- plus stuff for the baby.
We were met in Moscow by our agency's contact person in Moscow. His name is Valentin, and he is very good at what he does. Have you ever met someone with a gross personality deficit or style who seems to have found some way of making ends meet that is in tune with that style? Well, let's just say Valentin is a rather passionate individual. Some people talk on their cell phones. Valentin yells. When Jim greeted Valentin, he hustled us to a travel agency booth to secure three of the last six seats available on the only flight to Perm left that day. We really mean "hustle". Valentin walks very quickly, nearly running over fellow travelers in the concouse with our wheeled suitcases in tow. Once we bought our tickets (can you imagine same-day tickets for less than by an American carrier? we can't), Valentin took us to Red Square since we had to go clear across the Moscow metro area to another airport for the domestic flight.
Valentin picks us up in his van.
We figured we had time to see things since we got in around 10AM Moscow time and did not have our evening flight until 8:40. It was interesting to walk along the same route as all those old Soviet weapon parades. The traffic in downtown Moscow, even in the middle of the day, was pure insanity. We saw several adventurous motorists deciding to use the sidewalk!! Valentin was amazing, weaving in and out of lanes, knowing the dimensions of his beat-up minivan down to the centimeter. He made several creative turns, and nearly clipped a pedestrian with his side mirror.
Then we did the drug deal. Part of our procedure was to pay the "foreign fee" partly in cash UP FRONT at the beginning of the visit. This obviously helps the agency avoid the awkward situation of client parents stiffing the agency once the judge awarded custody. We had to drop off the cash to our agency's main wheel-greaser in Moscow, an articulate gentleman named Nikolai. The meet was in a back street with few people around. We waited in Valentin's van until we saw Nikolai drive up. Nikolai entered the van, exchanged some pleasantries, and some curtains were drawn over the windows. Jim brought forth a wad of bills, and counted them meticulously on the seat in front of all parties, by the thousands. Nikolai commented on how carefully Americans counted cash in these instances. We explained that this situation was most unusual for most Americans. Once the cash was presented, Nikolai opened his trenchcoat, and handed us the baby! Ok, just kidding on that last part.
After the handoff, Valentin took us to his place on the south part of Moscow for an hour or two and innundated us with pictures and video of his young daughter in Ohio. Most people are content to show a pic or two of their kid, but he seemed to think that we would just love to see all this footage. He also felt compelled to put in his Pearl Harbor DVD to show Jim. He even wept at the most violent scenes of the bombing. This passionate Russian has some eccentricities, but he gets the job done.
After inflicting Ben Affleck on all of us (Ben improves slightly with dubbed Russian lines), Valentine took us to Domodedevo airport. This happens to be the same airport, where an enterprising guard at the security checkpoint accepted a whopping 1000 rubles (about ) to let a couple Chechen ladies with large, ticking coats board a couple domestic airplanes. We know the rest. The airport itself was actually cheery and modern, with English translations everywhere. At the security checkpoint, they seemed about as diligent as in America. We were each patted-down and only Jim's hidden money belt escaped detection. However, it was apparent that our American identities exempted us from additional scrutiny other passengers were getting, as though the Russians seem to understand that it is not lily-white Americans blowing up planes. Lori accidentally left her fanny pack behind at the checkpoint, but we retrieved it in time.
Reunited with the boy!The flight on Perm Airlines was creepy at times, but uneventful. Once Ivan found the jumper cables, we were off! We were met in Perm by the smiling faces of our Perm guides Dina and Arthur. They make it all worthwhile. That these two kind and warm people are getting a piece of our family-making expenses instead of the frosty hags at the fertility clinic strikes as a cosmic justice. They took us back to the Tourist Hotel, and we were thrilled that we got our same suite back- 309. Jake got a suite just down the hall.
This morning, we visited the Ministry of Education, and we met Galina, the bureaucrat in charge, once more. She had the power to be a stiff inquisitor, but while she struck us as firm, she also had a very warm side. She spoke of the miracle of seeing babies grow into such different and wonderful individuals. We sensed that she really believes in what she does. We liked her on our first visit, and we brought over a nice necklace for her. After we signed some papers to allow us to see Egor/Matthew again, Jim presented her with her gift, which she initially declined. This came as an awkward shock, because we assumed that the bribery culture shamelessly permeated everything and everyone. We figure Galina thought that it would be unseemly for her to accept such a gift. She found a solution, however. She reached into a cupboard and pulled out a box of chocolate candies and presented it to Jim as a reciprocal gift. All good!
We then drove excitedly to the orphanage in Zakamsk. When we came in, we learned that Matthew (Yegor) had been enduring a low-grade fever for three days. They woke him up, put some clothes on him, and brought him in. He had gained negligible weight since our July visit, and was clearly recognizable with his cute chubby cheeks and ice-blue eyes. He was kind of in a daze after being rousted from his slumber, so he was just like us. He had no inkling of separation anxiety when we each each held him. Lori seemed to be kind of old hat to him. Jim, on the other hand, was a constant source of fascination and entertainment.
We first got his health update from the orphanage physician, and were delighted to learn that all is well with his hepatitis etc. Then we were able to feed him. A staff person brought in a bowl of a mash of vegetables and chicken along with a cup of water that had been boiled with dried fruit (once cooled it is like juice without all the sugar). The spoon they first provided was monstrous. Julia Roberts could not get that thing in her toothy maw. The replacement spoon was still a regular spoon, but he managed to eat with his four teeth. He also drank from a real cup when it was held for him! So we stupid Americans blow big wads at BABYSPENDSTORE on sippy cups.
Grandma Jake meeting her grandson for the first time. Egor sat up by himself and really became his old self once his lil belly was stuffed. He grabbed Lori's most fascinating hair as before and really loved grabbing pretty much everything. Whenever Jim would speak, the lil guy would whip his head around to see what creature could be making such gutteral speech. He and Jim have a real connection already. We are both so amazed and delighted that we would be able to adopt this remarkable and agreeable little boy. Even the orphanage physician described him as an "angel baby!"
We prepare for courtSo tomorrow we practice with our facilitators for court on Friday. We will try to get the waiting period waived on account of his "hepatitis of unknown type" history in his medical chart. It will be a tough sell since his past several tests have come back negative, but at least the orphanage director will send a letter to the court asking for this. We are so grateful we will not have Judgezilla. The lady judge we are getting we learned is far more agreeable and speaks to prospective parents with tact. Rumor has it that sometimes she will ask for more paperwork, but Dina has already spoken with her twice about our paperwork and was assured it was in order. We'll update again once we are done with court on Friday. We hope to avoid hanging out in Perm for the sake of the bureaucracy! We thank everyone for their best wishes and prayers.
-Jim and Lori
Jim and Lori go to court for custodyDear family and friends, Cliff's notes version: We got custody, need to hang around in this city for the next 10 days. Now for those of you with not enough to do, you can get some details. (By the way, we are a few blocks from our hotel at another hotel, enjoying their lightning-fast 33.6 modem connection for 80 rubles an hour. Out own hotel is undergoing renovations in the lobby area.) We just left the delivery room. Mom and dad are doing great. The kid? Who knows? He is still in the orphanage about a half an hour away. Lori was amazed to see no stretch marks. She can still slip into the same pair of jeans as she did before court this morning. She did not require any drugs. Jim however, could use some drugs about now.
Today was the big court day. This was the occasion where we stood before a Russian judge to give them the illusion that we are fit and sane parents. Jim managed to conceal the future of the boy in ritual sacrifice. Yesterday, Dina our translator had prepped us on the court procedure. She informed us of its format, what questions we would be asked, and how we should answer them succinctly and only offer details if asked. We knew the court proceedings would not only have a judge, but also a court secretary as well as a prosecutor from the Russian State. The prosecutor's job was to see that all laws were followed-- not necessarily to convict us. We imagined a wood-paneled courtroom facing Judge Judy after she forgot to take her lithium. The prosecutor would be some grim Soviet curmudgeon.
This was not the case. The "court" was actually a nice somewhat bare windowed office with three desks and some chairs. The judge was a pudgy lady in her 50s with shorter blond hair. She was actually very nice. In all the questioning, Jim could make out the word "please" several times as they asked us to please tell them this or that. Despite their congeniality, we were both very nervous. Dina sat between us and translated after every sentence spoken. Jim was asked to stand first and was given an awkwardly broad request to state our whole story and case.
Jim wondered where to begin and was grateful for the occasional whispered hint from Dina. When asked about our impressions of Egor, Jim replied in Russian that we thought he was a beautiful boy, and that when we see him, we feel great happiness. He also said in Russian that we believe he is our boy, our son, and that we play with him every day, and that he and Jim dance. The court people seemed surprised to see a Yank blurt out stuff in Russian, and the judge even smiled. This is probably because what Jim actually said was that both he and Egor smell funny. Then the prosecutor grilled the social worker about the administrative details of Yegor's past. Four- count em FOUR- other Russian couples took a pass on this little treasure of a boy! Hard to believe.
Yegor's father was literally a dash written in the blank for "father" in his birth certificate. His mother Ekaterina also had another child in 2002, but the state decided that at 18 she was too poor and unequipped to care for a child. Her sister is even younger, and also declined to adopt Egor. Her own father, Egor's grandfather, is named Sergei and is in prison, her mother died in 1985. What a rough life Egor's mother must have had as well. How nice to be able to end this tragic cycle!
We presented a valiant case that the 10-day waiting period be waived, and the social worker from the orphanage even weighed in in support. Alas, it was to no avail, as the new young woman prosecutor was not impressed and did not see the significance of him waiting around in the orphanage another 10 days. Hers was the final testimony, and she stated in a legalistic flavor that there was no compelling reason for the state to deny us our appeal for custody, but there was no legal provision for waiving the 10-day waiting period.
We beat the rap. We were all dismissed from the courtroom while the judge scribbled out her decision. Ten minutes later, the judge opened the door and invited us in for her verdict. She ruled as the prosecutor first indicated. We got the little guy!! He will now be Matthew Yegor Bjork instead of Yegor Ivanovich Kazymov! * We will be his new parents in the Russian registry. God help him. So, we are relaxing with the heat off. He is now ours!!!! We will see him next tomorrow afternoon. We plan on brining a miniature alternative to the Julia Roberts shovel (spoon) to feed him. We will also sneak in the American sippy cup!
* In Russian, the character "E" at the beginning of a word has a slight "Yeh" sound to it, so we went with the "Y" in his Anglicized name to get away from EEEEEEEEEEEEEEgor and the unfortunate connotation of a hunchbacked freak.Obvious Americans enduring the waiting gameJust a passing word about Russians.... A colleague of Jim's who was a cold warrior in the U.S. Military stated that Russians endure each day with an eternal question: "How is the universe going to screw me today?" After seeing all these dour young and old Russian hustle up and down the sidewalk with their eyes in steely gazes, we understand what that means. One of our Russian adoption guidebooks explained that one of the surest ways to give yourself away as an American was to smile. I'm not kidding. They will think you are an idiot. Unfortunately, even if the three of us trudge forth with a look like we got shafted waiting in line at the People's Glorious Toilet Paper Collective, we are still obviously Americans by virtue of the fact that Florence and Lori are both wearing shoes with heels larger than a dime. Jim wears athletic shoes. Most Russian men wear black leather shoes that come to a flat, upturned point. Florence likens them to surly elves. And so it goes.
Jim looks forward to a possible jazz gig in the Ural hotel next week. We had dinner at the restaurant in the lower level of the Ural last nite. English menus do wonders for avoiding toxic materials such as Chernobyl or liver. As we were waiting for our food, a couple musicians set up their bass and keyboard. Jim recoiled in horror at the sight of the keyboardist's keyboard-- the kind of semi-toy they sell at Wal-Mart. The duo opened with "Take five" by Dave Brubeck. Their playing was really good, tho Jim wished they had a drummer. Perhaps it was a vintage performance in a city that was not even acknowledged on the map in the Soviet era due to its exclusive role in the defense industry. They were joined by a singer who had a lovely voice. It was funny to hear her sing American rock songs. As though Boris and Natasha broke out in Sheryl Crow: "A CHAHNGE--- Veel doo hyoo Goood!" Jim was impressed by their efforts considering their location.
As we left, Jim told the musicians that he was from the USA and played jazz sax. The bassist replied in pretty good English that they play Tuesday thru Thursday and asked if Jim brought his sax. Jim replied that he did not. He plans to come back for dinner next Tuesday and offer to join them if one of them can somehow come up with a sax to play. It would be neat if that worked out. Jim doing gigs in Perm Russia waiting for a baby. Stranger things have happened.
Thanks for all your love and support, Jim and Lori
A fellow parent-in-waitingDear friends and family, It has been a memorable week as we wait for our little guy. The most interesting development has been the arrival of a couple other Americans to adopt a boy who are also using Dina and Arthur as their interpreter and driver. What makes this couple interesting is that instead of being a husband and wife, they are a single man and his mother. "Steve" is an exceptionally pleasant man. We really like visiting with him. He is nearing 40, handsome, appears to have an affluent lifestyle, is impeccably dressed and well groomed. He interacts in a very tender and sensitive way. Of course, the elephant in the living room about him is why there is no woman in his life.
After spending some time with the two of them, we suspect Steve may in fact be straight, but is saddled with a mother who would scare any sane female away. For example, one of Mother’s first sentences to us began with “MyOtherSonTheLawyer” When they were playing with Steve’s new little boy "Sergei" at the orphanage, the little boy would make a cute raspberry sound. And the intrepid grandmother opined: “Now Sergei!! You will never get into Harvard doing that! STEVE! You stop encouraging him!” You can figure out the rest of this woman’s schtick. Jim fantasizes about throwing her off the bridge over the Kama and helping the policeman recall seeing her jump with a couple thousand rubles. Every now and then, she will ask us about ourselves and listen briefly and perfunctorily before launching into the analogous story of her life. We see them all the time. There is no escape.
More tots than homesOn Tuesday, we got to play with all the toddlers out on the patio of the orphanage as the rain fell past the eave. They were so captivating and charming. Love for these children knows no language. They babbled in a different tongue, but they still drew delight from our smiles and our hugs. They would giggle and play peek-a-boo with us with their hats. Had we envisioned this scene a year ago, we would have skipped all the money and heartache of medical interventions to try to have a family. These wonderful, beautiful children need homes and loving parents, and our decision to make this journey was indelibly galvanized. If only more Americans could see these wonderful children!!! Jim was especially fond of a sweet blue-eyed girl named Valeria, who was there with her sister.
Other diversions while waiting around in PermWe have enjoyed several wonderful diversions this week during our wait. On Wednesday nite, we went to the Perm Ballet Company’s production of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. It was absolutely magnificent. This is the third most prestigious ballet school in all of Russia, and was founded during WWII from the Stalingrad troupe who fled the German siege. Several dancers stayed behind after the war to continue the school in Perm. The orchestra was wonderful, and what was incredible was the price. It worked out to be less than a ticket for a 6th row seat at a professional production that would have been exorbitant in the States! Jim was amazed at all the titanium toes of all those anorexic women.
On Thursday, Lori, Jake, and Jim took a road trip to a 19th Century Orthodox monastery that was undergoing renovation. It was so very nice to get out of this city and trawl thru country roads with goats and chickens occasionally crossing. The leaves are at their peak color chance and these trees form a fantastic quilt with the evergreens. The monastery was on a hill and the view was terrific.
Jazz gig at the StrogunovThursday nite, Jim borrowed a tenor sax from a local singer, Andrei, (got his number from the Ural hotel staff) and played the Stroganov Restaurant with bassist Ilya and pianist Vasily. It was the saxophone from hell. It was a silver metal beast. Jim was immediately embarrassed as he tried to play it and notes would not speak due to the disrepair of the instrument.
After a while, Jim figured out which few notes would actually speak true and improvised solos with the limited palette of notes. We are grateful to the very charming Andrei for loaning Jim his tenor sax in exchange for a couple mixed drinks.
Listeners present seemed to think that it all sounded very nice, and Jim exchanged email addresses with the other musicians. Very nice people. (Web Note: I could tell that Vasily was classically trained, and he really does deserve a weighted, hammer-action keyboard. I wish I could start a fund drive to raise money for deserving Russian musicians, but alas, the only Westerners who would care are musicians themselves... who are broke).
Enjoying parole at the Tourist Hotel
On Friday, little Matthew got paroled. We are able to take him out during the day, but ONLY to the hotel. Saturday was bath day, and the Orphanage gestapo prohibited us from even letting him play on the floor of our hotel room! Yeah. Right. A 10 month old. Sure, as though a 3X3 area of our bed was going to be enough for him. We can’t wait to smile at all the staff Tuesday morning and get him the heck out of there. We know, however, that their concern stems from a fierce and authentic love of these children. It shows in all their interactions with them.
Saturday, we went shopping and got several wonderful souvenirs. Jake bought Jim and Lori each a wonderful authentic Russian winter hat for their Fall birthdays. They are each warm and stylish gen-yoo-WINE articles, and unmistakeably Russian! Today (monday) we got to take him overnight!! Woo-hoo!!! We hope that we get Matthew’s passport in time this next week to get to Moscow for his Visa boy Thursday AM and out of the country home by our scheduled flight on Sat Oct 9th. Cross your fingers and pray!!!!! We wanna get outta here!!!
Much love to you all from Russia.
-Jim and Lori
Additional details (added for this web narrative):On Tuesday, we came to the orphanage for the last time. It was a very emotional moment as we returned the orphanage clothes, and Matthew's caregivers held him and kissed him one last time. It was bittersweet for them. His main caregiver told him (Dina translated in real-time) that he was going to enjoy a better life with us. We took him up to his crib room, where he said "Do Svedania" (goodbye) to his room-mates. A toddler with a mop of thick black hair was already in his old crib. Space is at a premium there.
As we left, Dr. Evgeny accosted me at the front door of the orphanage and shook my hand. I choked back tears as I assured him that I would try my very best to be a good father to him. As we got into Arthur's car, Dr. Evgeny asked me in broken English to come back again for a girl. I will never forget those people and that place.
Kickin' back at the Holiday InnOur Perm facilitators, Dina and Arthur, did a masterful job of getting Matthew's passport and birth certificate made in Perm by the end of last Wednesday. This was so that we could go on to Moscow to get Matthew a physical exam to enable his immigration during the day Thrusday and his visa itself by close of business Friday. In fact, Arthur drove a bureaucrat clear across town three times to get his birth certificate since that issuing office was in the process of moving. One office had the blank certificate forms, the other had the computer to print out on the forms, and the third office had the official bureaucrat to stamp it with a magic stamp. Dina described it as business as usual in Russia. Those two coordinators are simply amazing and we miss them already!
Jim, his stepmother Jake, and Matthew Yegor at the Holiday Inn. We checked into the Holiday Inn Vinogradovo when we got in to Moscow Thursday morning. Jim found the hotel on the internet on a web site that features Russian hotels. It was an oasis of America on the outskirts of Moscow and was a very welcome sight as we checked into what we thought were going to be out final two nights of our journey. We never thought we would be so glad to see the mundane emerald hues of a Holiday Inn, but we were elated. It's breakfast buffet had potatoes, scrambled eggs and bacon just like us Yanks like to clog our arteries.
Instead of flying home on Saturday, we go to the Russia Hotel in Moscow (at the time, the most rooms of any hotel in the world. Now it has been demolished- to be replaced with something even more huge, fueled by petrodollars.
The day we arrived in Moscow from Perm, Jim had given our agency's Moscow translator Bayarma all the Russian court documents to translate into English for the US Embassy for Matthew's visa, then Lori and Jim took Matthew into the center of Moscow for his physical. Unbeknownst to Bayarma, the US now requires physical custody of the child's passport during visa processing because it adheres a visa in the Russian child's passport directly. Unfortunately, Bayarma the translator did not ask us for his passport on Thursday when we handed over all the adoption and court documents because Nikolai the big cheese facilitator, forgot to mention the new policy to her. So on Friday morning, when we were expecting a confirmation call with our afternoon appointment time to recieve the visa, Nikolai instead had to tell me that they would not process it on Friday without the passport. Moreover, we did not have enought time to run his passport into the city. The web site description of the Holiday Inn *claimed* that it was just minutes from downtown Moscow. Yeah, right- by HELICOPTER maybe.
Nikolai gave Jim number of the Embassy and instructed him to call and beg them to process the visa, excoriate our agency's incompetence, and let us bring the passport in the afternoon to stick the visa in it. When Jim finally got thru to the embassy, the director of the adoption processing program insisted on making it clear to us that Nikolai was briefed of the procedure change by phone and email several days earlier. She explained why their computerized processing would not enable us to bring his passport in that afternoon. To his credit, Nikolai candidly admitted his error and apologized and made some mention of recompense. We were devastated that we would have to wait four days to try again for his VISA over the holiday weekend.
Our bonus stay in the Russia Hotel. Several of you replied with well-intentioned pep emails. We thank you for them. While cannot argue with the logic and arithmetic that four more days relative to the rest of Matthew's life is not a large percentage of time, the dismissive nature of some replies compels us to explain why the screw-up last Friday hit us hard. Consider that when we got that call last Friday, we had already spent nearly three weeks out of the USA in a land where: 1) Few people can understand you* 2) You cannot understand what the people say* 3) The food almost entirely sucks 4) You need to be as wary of the police as you are wary of the street criminal** 5) The weather was almost entirely gray, cold, and rainy 6) You stand out as a target for being robbed even when you keep your mouth shut when out walking 7) You are a mere lost or stolen passport/credit card away from an unspeakably unpleasant predicament. There is *no* margin for error on this point. I do not want to see my passport again for a couple years.
*People say that many Russians speak English, but for most with whom we spoke, even in the hospitality industry, the mastery is skeletal and precludes communication on any abstract point **Valentine our driver likens the Russian police to just another criminal gang-- one whose shake-downs are sanctioned by the state. He described a Russian saying that the only good Russian policeman is a dead one.Get the idea? This is why it was not "just another four days" to the three of us. It pushed us beyond the point of adventure into ordeal. You simply had to have been there and been in the same drained mental and physical state we were in. Also, with a 10-month old in tow in frigid rainy conditions, sightseeing opportunities with the additional time in Moscow were limited.
So once we processed the bad news, Jake watched Matthew while Jim and Lori went into Moscow on the hotel's shuttle bus to find the Aeroflot office to get our tickets changed to yesterday. Unfortunately, we had to settle for flying to NY instead of direct to Washington on a wednesday. In order to get to the office, we took the Moscow subway system. With the aid of a system map, some helpful subway travelers, and Jim's crude Russian, we found the place. The Moscow subway system was clean and cheap. While waiting for the shuttle bus for the return, we noticed a couple young men running by on the sidewalk, one of whom had a purse under his arm. I guess someone else had a bad Friday too.
(Additional web chronicle note: At the time, Lori and I were really mad at Nikolai's screw-up extending our already-long second trip. We know in retrospect, however, that in the big picture of Russian adoption, our inconvenience was NOTHING compared to bureaucratic nightmares and outright fraud other adoptive parents have endured. Seasoned veterans of this process would probably describe our experience as smooth as glass. Besides, not collecting the physical passport was an honest mistake, and I'm sure Nikolai has not made it since! Had the error not been made on a Friday, it would have just been a one-day inconvenience. Alas, it occurred on one of the 2-3 Fridays a year prior to a Monday Federal holiday...)
Making the most of Red SquareValentine our driver found us a closer hotel in town and ferried us there on Saturday. He felt real bad for us, and also took us to a supermarket to get a few more days' worth of baby food. Most kindly, he honored our request to find us a stroller to use for our 18 lb son. The Russia Hotel is massive, has 6000 rooms, and is across from Red Square. The room was decent sized, but the mattress needed to have been taken out an shot like an old horse. It was thin, lumpy, and had us rolling into into each other. The crib they wheeled in was something out of a Charles Dickens novel. Matthew's head was just large enough not to fit thru the wooden bars and choke him.
The first two days, we visited a nearby posh underground mall that had a food court with reasonably priced food (including Sbarro's) and a slick and cheap internet cafe. Jim booked our flight from JFK in NY to Washington there in the cafe. This trip to the mall was sort of the highlight of the day. The last two days we took walks around the periphery of the massive hotel as a family, but Jim went to the mall to fetch dinner.
One evening, while Jim was walking back across Red Square with fried chicken, two thieves tried to entrap him in a con game where one guy dropped a wad of bills as he walked briskly by. As Jim instinctively picked up the money to give back to the man, his confederate collided into Jim and did some "let's split the money 50-50" routine while trying to grope for a wallet. Jim just shoved the plastic bag of money back at sleazebag number 2 and repeatedly rebuffed the man's come-on in Russian and English, and kept on walking. The two men reconvened and moved on looking for another mark. Authentic Moscow sightseeing.
Posing in front of St. Basil's CathedralHeading home at last!Valentine the driver helped us buy our own stroller in Moscow on the way to the airport. Even though he did not make the screw-up, he was our saving grace. Our flight from Moscow to New York saw the "Angel Baby" become the Demon Baby. Matthew just could not sleep except for one 50-minute span in the airport and another 80-minute respite in the middle of the flight. Imagine how pleasant a 10-month old is to be around when he has been awake for 12-20 hours with only two brief naps. At times, he was nearly inconsolable, and several passengers migrated away from us to empty seats at the rear.
Toward the end of the flight, Jim rocked and sang to him while he screamed and wailed in one of the lavatories. At one point, he pooped his diaper so bad it got all over his undergarment, and Lori in a state of dazed fatigue threw several of his clothes away in the lavatory trash! We are not too keen on flying anywhere with him this coming holiday..... When we got thru passport control and immigration at JFK it was a spectacular relief. We were finally on American soil, and our boy became an instant citizen! We flew back to Washington on the new Independence Air, and were impressed with this upstart airline. Matthew, like us, had been up for nearly 24 hours straight, and finally slept a little in Lori's arms.
A couple friends from our Church met us there at Dulles and took us home. We were so delighted and surprised to see and "It's a Boy!" banner outside our front door, left by several of our friends last nite. So we had an unforgettable adventure, and we delight in our great little boy, and we hope he gets even more rest today. We are also grateful to Jake for making the trip with us, even though we had to send her back stateside on schedule and could not have her help during the aviation screamfest. We look forward to being just another American family. No more passports and visas....
Thank you all for your best wishes and prayers! We hope you can all see this little guy sometime soon!
Matthew Yegor Bjork, after coming "home" to America.
All the best,
-Jim and Lori
Why do people who are bright enough to hold a decent conversation do really impulsive things that wreck their lives or the lives of others- such as become dependent on drugs or alcohol, or kill someone in the heat of the moment? This burning question has driven my career in biomedical research. To help advance our understanding of the neurobiology of impulsivity, I have studied hundreds of messed-up people in the laboratory using a variety of measures-- from questionnaires, to carefully-calibrated laboratory tasks of behavior, to genetics, to structural and functional neuroimaging. With one exception, all my research has been on human volunteers, who can sometimes be more difficult to study than rats or monkeys.
