Looking at Our Family Photos| Easy Russian Podcast 42

Dorian Gray won't show up, right? I can't. One, two... That's not my microphone. Top-top. We also put winter shoes on. This one. Shitty ladies. Okay, bro-top. My parents had a house that Jack built. My parents... Can I ask you to poke me in the face again? Because I think he lost it while I was walking back and forth. Hi, everyone. Hi. I'm Marina. And I'm Nikita. We're the hosts of the Easy Russian podcast. It's a podcast for those who learn Russian despite everything. Today we're going to look at our old family photos. That's the theme of our next Easy Russian podcast. It's funny that I just came back from a photoshoot. The photos weren't family-themed. They were... creative. But I like the theme. You know, Nikita, when you visit someone at home, photos or portraits are usually hanging on the walls. Or they can be on the tables. Have you ever done that? I haven't personally, although I feel like I've matured before that. But that's how it's always been with my family. That's how it's been with my dad. My mom doesn't like to put old family photos, but she loves her sister. Anyway, in any case, these are photos of our ancestors, in the broadest sense of the word. Or some memorable places, especially dear to the heart. In the case of my dad, this was a famous photo of my grandmother, his mother. This is a military photo. My grandmother was at war. It's a legendary photo in our family, because she's in military uniform, in the forest, on a halt. And there are 16 or 18 men around her, also in military uniform. This is her detachment. She's the only woman there. She's smiling, and all the other men are very tired, very sad. And it's clear that they're all equally exhausted by the war in this shot. But my grandmother, apparently, like a real lady, tried her best, took this pose, straightened her back, sat down in a half-squat, and managed to make a smile out of herself, which the other men were not able to do at all. Obviously, there are hard times. Who was your grandmother like? Grandmother's sounds. Grandmother's sounds, yes. She was a nurse at first, and then she became a rather dubious position in the Soviet army. She was a Komsorg, if I'm not mistaken. She was a representative of the Komsomol organization. What does it mean? It means she was an ideological officer, an officer by ideology, who was supposed to make sure that the morale didn't drop, that they didn't surrender to the Germans, that they were faithful to the ideals of communism. Wow. Of course, my grandmother was more than a reasonable person, and she also had rather serious nobility roots, so she fulfilled the duties of a Komsorg in her own way. For example? Well, she didn't do ideological work with soldiers and officers. In fact, she just fought with them. By her example, she was a young woman, just like them, overcoming all difficulties. She was just their support. She was injured several times. She had... My grandmother died in 2002 or 2003. I suddenly realized that I can't remember exactly. How old was she? How old did they say she was? I think she was about 70. Did you have time to talk to her? Yes, I had time to talk to her about everything in the world, because she was an extremely smart and intelligent woman. She was a journalist, and she wrote absolutely brilliant texts. I was already a novice journalist, and I remember many wonderful conversations with her, where we understood each other perfectly. Of course, she had a different terminology there, because she was used to being a newspaper or magazine journalist dealing with typography, which is a manual set of lead models, and there was a different concept of deadlines, a different concept of editing. Modern journalism, at the time when I started doing it, was much more flexible and simple. It was possible to make changes at the very last moment, but it has already turned into the Internet in many ways. Journalism, where changes can be made later, can't be imagined in the classical newspaper journalism of the past. We were very good friends with her. I still remember her home Moscow phone number by heart. I remember very few numbers in the life of anyone, but I remember her home number, because we called her almost every day. Good story. Well, it's probably a bit long for one photo. What can you tell about your grandfather? Did you have a photo of your grandfather with your grandmother? We had a photo of my grandfather. He didn't like them very much. There were mostly photos of him hunting on the walls, because my grandfather was an avid hunter, together with his two sons. Andrey is my uncle, and Alexey is my dad. They always went hunting, and they loved to go on such a long hike for two or three weeks on the Baidarkas, somewhere in the far north, where they get on a helicopter, you know, and then go down the Baidarkas along the river for a long time. Could you please describe one of such photos? Andrey and my grandfather Roman are standing there. They are holding some huge fish, I don't know what kind, northern ones. They have spinnings in their hands, and they are wearing swamp boots, which are even higher than their hips. And they look terribly happy there. But I appreciate a completely different photo. By the way, it's about our long-standing discussion with my dad. My dad always proudly told me that Batyan, that's how we called my grandfather, Batyan, that was his nickname. By the way, Batyan is from the word bata, that is, father. That's how my dad called him, and everyone started to call him that. But everyone liked Batyan. Batyan became just a nickname. I just wanted to explain what it means. And my dad often told me that Batyan is an iron man, no sentiments, no reflexes, no depression. This is a person who is always in a good mood. And indeed, Batyan looked like that in many ways. He was such a goose. Of course, I remember him already in his old age, but he was still an old goose, such a jolly goose, with jokes, ready to hit the ladies. Indeed, full of energy. However, when he died, I finally managed to look into his safe, on legal grounds, where I found, among other things, a pile of different old photos. One of them looked like this. Batyan is on it, younger than I remember him. He is sitting with a completely confused face on a pebble protruding from the sea. It's like a seashore, there is such a big stone, and behind it is the sea. His appearance is just confused. He has a very pitiful appearance. He is sitting in some kind of swimming trunks, slightly covering his stomach with his hands. I immediately understand this, as a person who has been complexed all his life because of his figure, I immediately recognized it. So, I turn over this photo, and it says something like Sochi, 1975, still the same lonely, but now even fatter. It is written with Batyan's hand. I even ran to my dad to show this photo, in the sense that, wow, there is no reflex. Just look, the depth is just... And my dad told me, no, I don't know, that this is some kind of joke. He could not write such a thing. Men, we have no depression. Also, men write with their hand on the photo, still the same lonely, but now even fatter. This is the most memorable photo for me, because there he is extremely sincere, frank and very beloved. And the most important thing is that I, especially at this age, begin to notice how we are similar to him. Not in the sense of unhappiness and worries about his figure, but just... There is such an expression of the face, which I have probably never seen And this expression of the face I often recognize in the mirror. I like this story, that I found some kind of additional thread of kinship and from kinship with him even after he died. This is probably my favorite photo of my grandfather. My parents had a house. And my dad, like your relatives, loved to hunt. I still remember how, by the way, still in this house there is a picture drawn on the photo from the hunt. There my dad stands, holds some kind of killed animal in his hands. Killed by license, I want to notice. That is, officially. In general, if you have permission to hunt, there is a limit, for example, you can shoot some number of animals per year. As a rule, there are very few and it is very expensive. And in a certain hunting season. Yes, in a certain hunting season, when there is no breeding period, for example, and you do not harm the environment too much. Although, personally, I am against hunting, but everyone has their own way of looking at it. In any case, he had this photo from the hunt, and he holds a rabbit or a duck. Two of our hunting dogs which I remember from childhood. And behind him is a forest. And he smiles. And she stands right in front of my eyes. This is, of course, an amazing fact. An amazing fact that people not only hang their family photos on the wall, but also re-draw them. What is it? Well, I'm telling you. He ordered a portrait from an artist who drew a picture based on the photo I just described. And he has this picture hanging on the wall. Can you imagine? Well, I'm not condemning it. It just causes me some bewilderment, even mixed with delight, probably. Here. I even have a slightly different family photo. What did you want to say? No, nothing. I just felt old. When I came to visit my grandmother in the small town of Kostashki, where she lives and where I was born, every time, well, not every time, but quite often, I climbed the entresol, the upper part of the wardrobe, and looked through the photos that she had there. And there, as a rule, there were three or four photo albums with the entire literary history of our family. There were pre-revolutionary portraits of my great-grandparents, and even great-great-grandparents, and great-great-grandmothers from Ukraine. Someone, I think, was even from Poland. From somewhere else. From quite a large and diverse number of places, pre-revolutionary pictures look quite interesting, because they are already a little yellowed paper, and people pose like this. But not as often as now. Yes, I pose like this. This is a classic scheme, where a man is sitting, in a patriarchal society, for example, putting his foot on his foot and lying beautifully in a chair. Behind his back, behind him, half-hiding, there is usually a wife, for example, putting her hand on his shoulder. And here children can also be placed, somewhere in the background there is a grandmother. But the center of this photo has always been a man, and this is, of course, wildly infuriating. But I'm sorry that I interrupted you. Yes, and I remember that one day I really wanted to look at how my mother looked at my age. At that time I was about 21 or 22 years old. And I found absolutely amazing pictures. Thanks to these photos, I learned that my mother, firstly, was an eco-activist. Secondly, she played in a rock band on a bass guitar. Thirdly, she participated in some beauty contests. They wrote local newspapers. And she rode a motorcycle, an old Soviet motorcycle. And I look at all this and think, wow, you rock! It's cool. And I still have these photos on my phone, and I look at them with great joy sometimes. And these are the pictures that I would like to print. I would not print photos from my wedding, no matter how I liked them. Although my grandmother made an album for us. I would not print pictures of myself and my family. It seems very strange to me, even a little scary. I don't understand why I would do it. It reminds me of American horror movies, when you enter a house where the whole family was killed, and there are their portraits hanging there. And you're like, why? And such pictures, which are associated with some bright moments in my family biography, which, you know, convey some kind of connection through generations, the connection of me and my mother at such a young age, they are much more valuable to me. Speaking of the cringiness of family photos, nevertheless, I have a photo of me and my daughter sitting on my lap. It's not cringy at all. I mean, if you printed and hung it in the toilet facing the toilet, it would be strange. Why the toilet? I don't know why people often do this, Nikita. I have the same question. For example, they print a calendar for the next year with their family, and you sit and look at the portraits. And if this calendar hangs in the kitchen or in the living room, is it a better situation? No. And why is it necessary at all? Well, probably people want to look at their family, feel its fullness, width, I don't know, heritage. On the other hand, I lied. So? I want to hang photos at home, but I would not like to put them in a frame and make it a family altar. I would like to hang them in a rather random order, as if I had just printed them and pulled them out, even if there are family photos, children's photos, and so on. But I would like to mix them with other cards, postcards, with signatures. For me, it's all about the form, not about the fact. It turns out that I lied, and I agree with the fact itself. It's cool to put them on display, but how it is done is important to me. Oh, honey. Well, first of all, of course, I didn't have such a need to look at the photos of my relatives until I had to part with them with an unclear deadline. I don't understand when we'll see each other again. And now it became important to me. How fortunate that my phone is full of photos, including re-photographed, old photos. And yes, now I look at them. It didn't matter to me before. I look at the photos of the area where I lived. I look at the photos of the Astrakhan house in the village, which I also miss. By the way, do you think this also falls into the category of family photos? I think so. Because, in fact, a family is wider than just the members of your family. A dog can be a member of your family, and a house, and a place. It can be an absurd thing from the point of view of a third-party viewer. For example? I have a photo that often comes to my mind as a random photo memory. This is the certificate of my mother that she received for winning a grenade-throwing competition. It sounds and looks quite strange, especially today, when there is a war. But as if I were a patriot who is proud of it. Oh, I'm so proud of it! No, you have to understand that my mother is an absolute pacifist, a fragile woman, even now, and then just a disappearing little girl, managed to somehow throw this grenade further than all her classmates. And this is so unusual for her, that I even think that she did it with hatred. It was the hatred towards the wartime imposed by the Soviet Union that gave her the strength to throw this grenade further than anyone else. It seems to me, Nikita, it is worth explaining the context in which your mother participated in the grenade-throwing competition. Well, we talked about it in one of the episodes. I will repeat with pleasure. The fact is that in the Soviet Union and now in Russia, which is now on the military rails, this is happening again, there were compulsory military training courses. Right from school, and sometimes even in kindergarten. Now, for example, you can meet it. Children were taught how to assemble and disassemble machine guns, dig trenches, how to properly hide from bullets, and so on. Including, of course, to throw a Molotov-Ribbon grenade. Fortunately, not a real one, but it looks like a real one. It weighs as much as a real one. Apparently, you need to pull out the cheek or press some button. I don't know what kind of grenade it was. And throw it the right way. And the right way to hide after that. So, everything is for adults, so that the children knew how to fight right from childhood. My mom, as I said, is a convinced pacifist. She didn't like it at all. She liked to play basketball much more, despite her modest height. She played brilliantly. And she liked to go to the pool. She loved to swim a lot. So, she had to work out her obligation. Well, maybe... I never asked her about it. Maybe she tried to throw this grenade further away to get this certificate, the prize place, so that no one would touch it again. It's possible that it was like that. I suggest to remember one more photo. My dad was very proud of the photo of my great-grandfather. Yes, great-grandfather. I always get confused. Great-grandfather is the father of your grandparents. And great-great-grandfather is... Even further. One knee back. There is a man in an officer's uniform. My great-grandfather Nikita Fyodorovich Peshkov. That was his last name. At this stage of my family he was a sergeant on the cruiser Varyag. He was brought up in the song. And he was a personal adjutant of admiral Kolchak, the white ruler of Russia after the revolution during the Civil War. Of course, in such words it is necessary to reduce. In general, my dad, of course, was a very proud man. He was very moral. He was proud of this photo. For him it was a natural crown of development of a man. Of course, he associated himself with great-grandfather, with nobility, with the white movement, with all this beauty and greatness of the elite. I was terribly embarrassed, to be honest, because I did not feel neither in our family, nor in our communication with each other, nor in the way of life that we led. To be honest, I did not recognize any noble features and did not feel any greatness neither in my family nor in myself. And this great-grandfather is fantastically outwardly similar to my father, to me, to my brothers. Phenotypically, it is him. I look at you and I can see these noble features. It is read in your eyes. It is a sea of splashes in my eyes. Well, of course, it is the pride of my father. The sea of your noble features. Yes. Of course, it is the pride of my father that annoyed me terribly. Especially as a teenager. Why should I be proud of what you have nothing to do with? I had such conflicting relations with my father for many years that I, of course, rejected all these features. I avoided these photos. I did not want to look at them. I did not want to talk about them. But now, when my father died, many of my relatives died, many of whom I mentioned today, almost all of whom only my mother was alive. Now, in emigration, I suddenly began to periodically look at this photo. But not in order to be proud, but I suddenly wanted to turn to the shadows of my great ancestors and ask them for some help, support. You just think that fate was terrible, terrible, who knows what was going on. We managed somehow, we survived. This helps me. It is interesting to look at the portraits of some of your distant relatives, for example, great-grandmothers or cousins. In Russian, a cousin is a cousin's sister, a cousin is a cousin's brother. Some distant relatives and see their features in them. I remembered a poem. Bykova. In all my women, I saw your features, and it made me feel better. I remembered it now because, for example, my brother, who is 5 years younger than me, my grandfather. My grandfather died when I was just born in 1996. He knew me for a month or two, and then he died. When I look at his photos, of course, I am amazed by the similarity with my brother. The cheekbones, the nose, the high forehead, the tea-colored eyes. Tea-colored. Black tea. For example, I look like one of my grandmother's There is a portrait of her with her three sisters, and one of them looks like Nina. I look a lot like her, although the portrait is from the 1950s. It is an amazing similarity. I don't know how it works. It is as if it is passed down from generation to generation. I recently began to notice how much I look like my mother. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see her face. It's not bad. It's just amazing how you look in the mirror and see how generations of people are combined in you. Just a huge number. At the same time, you see without error. I want to say that it was absolutely amazing when I first saw my just-born daughter. I think she was a day old. I instantly recognized our family features. Although most people say, they are all the same, these babies. But I see. In the next three years, soon my daughter will be three, I see how these features are strengthened and manifested. My former skeptics say, it's true, but I saw it anyway. There is a scientific explanation that nature is designed so that men see similarities with newborn children, from the ancient times when people were like animals, so as not to interrupt their offspring in a fit of jealousy, anger or something else. So that every adult male could see that these are his children, even if they are not his. Therefore, it is possible that my natural mechanism worked first, but then the phenotypic and genetic mechanism appeared. Now I look at my daughter. Admittedly, she looks more like my sister than me. I see my features there. But if you choose who she looks more like, she looks a lot like my sister. Apparently, this is the female version of my face. There is a very interesting book that I want to recommend It is about genetics and features, and how it is all interconnected. It is called She Laughs Like a Mother. Send stories about your family photos and some significant pictures or memories related to your family to the email podcast SobakaEasyRussian.org or send an audio message to the website EasyRussian.fm Dear friends, tell us whether it is important for you to have a photo of your family in your home, or in your phone, or in your wallet. Is it important for you to have such images in your life? It seems to me that traditional family photos within the framework of the home are no longer very fashionable. Photos are replaced by electronic photos most often on the screens of our mobile phones. Is it important for you to review your old family photos? What do you feel about it? Tell us. Well, we are waiting for your answers. In the meantime, I want to remind you that we have a paid subscription. If you become our paid subscriber, you will receive a lot of interesting and useful tasks. For example, interactive decoding. When you listen to our version of the podcast for paid subscribers, you will have a link in the application, through which you can use our interactive decoding. It looks like this. The text of our decoding, but it is in real-time mode, moves on your screen, and the words we are saying at the moment move on your screen. At the same time, if you click on another button, you can see in the column next to it the translation of this decoding into English and other languages. Well, that is, it turns out a bilingual book according to which you, one might say, enter your finger in real-time mode and exactly hear every word that sounds now and read it on the screen. This helps a lot to understand everything exactly as it is. In addition, we always record a bonus for our paid subscribers, which is at the end of each of our episodes. These can be some additional materials for the topic we discussed, poems, stories, some unsuccessful takes we often leave, our personal stories and much, much more, but always something very interesting. Anyway, we really need your support, so come and subscribe to us and help us make new episodes. See you soon! I suddenly felt sorry for my mom that I didn't tell her There is a wonderful photo, by the way, I mentioned it once and I'll put a link to it, where a very young mother is sitting in the editorial office of the Delta Volga newspaper and smoking a cigarette. She is wearing a very fashionable suit, which she sewed herself with her own hands, there were problems with clothes then, those who knew how to sew stood out, and she smokes some kind of cigarette, and she looks like a supermodel. She is something in between Twiggy and Liza Minnelli in one face. By the way, her hairstyle is very similar to yours, Marina, but the photo is in black and white, even if her hair is dyed in some color, I won't know anything about it. And she is so beautiful, so daring, such a lively girl. I remember when I was not even a teenager, I was very small when I saw this photo, and I was so amazed that this mom is something very official, very serious, on the one hand, on the other hand, very beloved, soft, warm. It is very difficult in childhood to think about your mom as an independent, separate person from you. And it was such an impressive example that I see a very daring person, very independent, with whom I would be scared to get in touch, because she looked very dangerous. I admired her very much, and since then I appreciate and keep this photo with me. Yes, it is curious how on such pictures you can also reconsider yourself, for example, and remember what state you were in before. Only yesterday I was thinking about how different we look at different moments of my life. For example, I often take selfies to put them somewhere and show them to someone, to remember how I look literally in grief and joy. For example, my face when I feel very bad and my face when I feel very good is like two different people.