Reinvention anew?

When I think back to the stories my grandfather told me, the ones about his childhood in Russia are always fresh in my mind. I listened in awe whenever he described his young life, imagining a curious young boy dressed in scruffy britches exploring the rural countryside of his birth in a town called Jetoma. This image was the memory he shared from before his young life was turned upside down. My grandfather’s eyes of crystal blue had a commanding intensity and in telling this story, his eyebrows would rise up causing his forehead to ripple with rows of deep crevices. Then he described the terror he felt running home and into the family’s barn…