I grew up in an owner operator trucking family. I spent a lot of time on the road in my later teens. If I’m remembering this right, we were at a port, in or near Houston, waiting to pick up or unload. Too much eating and sleeping between now and then to get all the details straight.
I remember having to wait for what seemed an eternity, so I started walking around killing time. I walked past a guy standing close by, he was having a smoke. He acknowledged me with a hello. So I stopped and talked to him for a few minutes. He spoke broken English, yet very understandable, with a very thick Russian accent. He was a Russkie!
He seemed a few years older than me. At the time, I’m guessing I was maybe 17.
So, we’re talking, and as we, do I’m struck by the fact that this commie was as human as I was. He felt so fortunate to be standing on American soil. He was profoundly amazed to be here. He explained to me his captain allowed him to come ashore for a bit, and soak up some American air. He was damn near ecstatic about merely standing in America.
After a few minutes of conversation, he said he had to go. He could not be seen talking to me for any length of time. And we soon parted ways.
I was somewhat intrigued by that encounter. Much of my time growing up was spent dissing the damn commies, by pretty much our entire society, and here I had just met one. There was nothing unusual about him. He was very polite, and eager to speak to an American. Even me. That was a moment for me, where I slowly realized, no matter who we are, no matter what country we hail from, no matter our color or creed, we are all equally human.
That brief moment with a Russian stranger was one of those life changing paradigms, in my ways of thinking about people, even the world. I can point back to that moment in time and say, “that changed me.”
Evidence Based Reality 
When I was still living up in Dallas, TX—before having to move back to redneck Kerrville for a third time to care for Mom and her severe dementia—my PCP (Primary Care Physician) was originally from Russia. Dr. Isaac Pugach was my PCP for almost 4-yrs. We often chatted about football/soccer along with my chronic health problems, etc.
As I neared the end of my residence in Dallas in 2021, I hear Dr. Pugach speaking a foreign language to another elderly couple outside my exam room. It sounded to me as Polish or Czech. When he entered my exam room I asked him if he was speaking Polish or Czech to that couple. He answered, “No. Russian.” Shocked by this I told him “Wow! You speak English exceptionally well.” I asked him in the most delicate, respectful manner I could, How long he has been in the U.S. and if he has any friends or family in Ukraine. He answered several close good friends in Ukraine, no family, and he moved to the U.S. and Texas in the early ’90s. He then said rather obviously, Putin, the Kremlin, and how Russia is run (and ruined) by Putin was his and his wives’ ONLY method of having a decent living and wage as a practicing M.D. in Internal Medicine.
This is all to say Shell, that many simple, intelligent Russians are perfectly good, kind, and helpful, just as many Americans. It is the few horrible, toxic, infecting Bad Apples in a nation’s society that make the power-hungry megalomaniacs want more minions as cannon-fodder for their own narcissism and anti-social personality disorders. THEY are the ones who kill and sacrifice the greater good and great human beings.
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I could not agree more Prof.
We could sure make a lot of cider eh? 😉
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PHO-SHOW we could! And do shots of pro-American-Russian or even Ukrainian vodka!!! 😄🍻🍸 Fun times with crazy Slavs, eh? 😉
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Well, I got good and plastered once on screwdrivers. Did not fare well from the experience (I saw Ralph! I hugged the porcelain throne, I got sick dammit!) To this day I cant’ stand the thought of Vodka.
But I’m sure willing to share some of my bourbon.
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DEAL! When are you in Texas? 😉
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Ha! I’d be on my way if it was just that easy to jump up and get to Kerrville.
Interestingly enough, I was in Gonzales years ago, getting shells out of the Guadalupe River there.
There’s a lake somehwere N of your area, still in Texas, I hit on the way home. Oldfartitis, can’t remember the name. Stayed there for a day and headed on back to Tn. The Guadalupe thing had played out, so tried that other spot because there was a shell buyer there at the time. I didn’t do well enough to hang around, so back home we went.
I don’t even know if Texas still has an out of state license for shelldiggers…
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Lake Buchanan, near Burnet? That’s a big one and now popular. It is fed by the Colorado River.
Yes, the Guadalupe runs right thru Kerrville.
Out of state licenses? No clue. Our laws here are changing every 2-yrs minimum… further and further to the radical Right. 😠
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I’m not sure, I think it may have been Lake Travis, but not certain.
Some states that used to allow out of state shell diggers to get a license, have stopped doing that. There are still a few states who do allow out of state licensing, for other states that reciprocate. I haven’t travelled in the job for a long time. so I’m not up to date.
Often as not, you’re better off staying home and hitting it regular. Travel expenses add up quick. Especially these days.
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I’ve had a lot of positive experiences and so few poor ones I can’t even remember any off hand. I traveled a lot up until, oh, 2015 or so, mostly on motorcycles but also in the Corvette. In Wyoming I was outside the motel early one morning having a smoke and ran into a fellow from California who was there to scatter his father’s ashes in the mountains where he used to hunt. That same trip I ran into another guy who was the father of the commander of the aircraft carrier that handled Bin Laden’s body after he was killed.
One day my son and I had been on the bikes for about 2 weeks up in New England. We pulled into a gas station outside of New York to get gas and do a bathroom break. Both my son and I tan really, really dark when we’re out in the sun, so our hands and faces were dark, dark brown while our arms were still pasty white. Two young black guys were selling car polish out in the parking lot and saw the two of us and had to come over and razz us about being long lost half brothers. We spent a good hour joking around and having a great time with those guys. Best Italian food I ever had was in a small restaurant in NY that turned out to have been a hangout for mafia bigwigs and when one of them found out we’d ridden the bikes all the way from Wisconsin he came over and talked with us for almost an hour about his time in Chicago and MIlwaukee and paid for our dinner.
One day my wife and I were out on the BMW on a long trip and we pulled in to an old barn that had been turned into an art gallery. We were interested in the cars in the parking lot. I’d never seen so many Ferraris, Porches, BMWs and Mercedes in my life. Turned out there was some kind of show of over priced, very bad “art” going on. Someone on staff saw us out in the parking lot getting off a rather fancy, exotic looking BMW motorcycle, wearing full BMW riding gear, and immediately assumed we had money and we were there for the show, came rushing over to escort us in and for the next two hours we wandered around, sipping free wine, eating ridiculously pretty horderves and chatting with the rich and famous. That was interesting.
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Great stories Grouchy!
You know, some people manage to live a little. They get out there and experience the world, meet people, do things, enjoy life.
Some people rarely get 20 miles from where they were born…
Poor bastards.
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Hi Shelldigger. Grand story. I grew up in a small, I mean really small Vermont town where the cows easily far out numbered the number of people.
I went into the military as soon as I was out of high school. What an eye opener it was. First I went to the Great Lakes for boot camp, then to San Diego, California. Holy cow plops. That was more shocking to me than boot camp, I was used to being ordered around. This was back in 1981. So much world changing stuff I can not even begin to describe how it affected me. But I drank it in like a camel tanking up on water. Then I left the Navy and went into the Army. First Georgia which again was totally different from California. From there Germany. Oh wow, oh wow. This country boy had an epiphany. People everywhere were just like me sort of, everyone liked to have fun, liked to enjoy life, liked to eat, needed to use bathrooms, and we all have different ways of living / culture that is not wrong or evil … just different. I had the most fun of my life.
When I returned to the US I noticed that far too many people believe that the US is the best at everything, the greatest country, and every other country needs to do just what we do. Totally wrong on each one. Most people who have never left the town / city / state they were born in were the worst at understanding the world and the other people in it. I got so frustrated at the total indoctrination by government and wealthy people to convince the public to never look outside the US because they would see in a lot of places people are happier and have things that we in the US, the wealthiest country on earth, we are told can not afford.
Sorry this comment is so long. But I seriously think everyone should be given the opportunity to spend 6 months or a year in a different country. Our schools should have that. Not as missionaries to a country to push a way of living like some religions do, but as visitors to learn. It is a total game changer on a young mind. Hugs, Scottie
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Glad you had the experience in travel. It certainly hepls broaden ones horizons. The stay-at-homes are missing the experience, and as you mentioned, often become biased in their limited, and hometown small, worldview.
I agree, more folks should get out. Meet people. Learn some of the culture. Expand your limitations a bit.
My wife did home health care for a good while as an LPN. She looked after a little girl, who happened to be Mexican. I got to attend many of the family functions, cookouts, gatherings, etc. I learned quite a bit there. I’m actually jealous of their culture. They enjoy themselves, keep it family friendly, and I was damn impressed. I was always treated as welcome. Not like some “who the hell is this nasty Gringo?” way. I honestly wish I had family that can get together and participate in social functions, and maintain a level of respectability. I was told to sit with them, get something to eat, and be part of it.
I don’t mind a long comment if it’s meaningful. Yours is.
I don’t mind the Prof’s longer comments either. Comment away!
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