On those days — and there have been so many lately — when it all seems too much, that the world is spinning off its axis, that things will never be right again, I try to think of worse times in history, and how people have gotten through them.

And what better example of fortitude and perseverance than the people of Europe during World War II, and the wisdom and courage of leaders such as Britain’s Sir Winston Churchill. He always seemed to find just the right words to rally his people when days were at their darkest, as for instance:

“It is not enough that we do our best; sometimes we must do what is required.”

What is required of us Americans at this pivotal point in our history — besides patience and fortitude — is to exercise our constitutional right to control our own destiny by voting in November, choosing democracy over autocracy, and making the changes that will place us back on the right path: the path to liberty, dignity, and prosperity that have always been the hallmarks and the foundation of the real America.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/25/26

I am here today to ask the good people of Canada to forgive the people of the United States for the continuing fallout from our 2024 presidential election. It was unquestionably a disastrous mistake, from which we and the rest of the world are suffering mightily. But we (the people) mean no harm, to ourselves or anyone else . . . least of all to our stalwart neighbors and friends to the north.

I say “we,” because I am an American and therefore cannot distance myself from my countrymen (countrypersons?), and must share responsibility for the bad times as I have shared in all the benefits of the good years. But in fairness to myself, I didn’t vote for you-know-who. Still, I feel I have an obligation to speak up.

I have been to Canada twice. The first time was on my very first cruise experience, when we sailed out of Boston to Bar Harbor, Maine, and then to Halifax and Sydney, Nova Scotia; Charlottetown, PEI; along the St. Lawrence River to beautiful Quebec City; and finally to Montreal. During that week, I fell in love twice: with cruising in general, and with Canada in particular.

The following year, I repeated the experience on the west coast, spending two glorious days in Vancouver, B.C., before sailing up the Alaskan inner passage and riding the White Pass train from Skagway into Canada’s Yukon Territory. Again, I was in awe of the warmth and friendliness of the Canadian people, and of course the incredible beauty of the country itself.

From a political standpoint, I can’t think of two other countries anywhere in the world that have been as close friends for as long as we have. In this century, you have been there for us in times of natural disasters and, most notably, after the horrific terror attacks of September 11, 2001.

And now the aberrant occupant of the Oval Office has the audacity — and the incomprehensible stupidity — to try to hold you responsible for the winds that have carried the smoke from your catastrophic wildfires across the border into “our” air.

I assure you that the vast majority of Americans are intelligent enough not to believe that you could (or would) alter the course of the wind. While we are not thrilled by the effect on our air quality, we realize that the far greater damage is being done to your territory and your people, and that this is not some insane, diabolical scheme to get even with us for that last election.

I did read that we have finally sent some help, though I’m not sure how much. And there are those — including a few in our own Congress — who would still hold you responsible for the climate conditions that have caused an increase in wildfires . . . while stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that it is largely our own environmental “policies” that have brought about so many weather-related catastrophes: not just fires, but increased heat waves, droughts, and floods as well.

So again, I apologize for all of it: for the ignorance, the betrayals, the blatant criminality. And I ask that you be patient with us during this temporary lapse (or collapse) of personal and political normalcy. We the people are working on it; and in the meantime, we need the understanding and moral support of our Canadian friends more than ever before.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/25/26

This is an update of last year’s birthday homage to the person who unquestionably had the greatest positive influence on my life . . . or at least the last 47 years of it. He was my boss, my mentor, my friend, and the father figure I would have chosen if we could choose our parents.

I haven’t changed a word; only the age he would have been today.

*. *. *

Happy birthday, Walter . . . you old curmudgeon.

He would have been 111 years old today; and I can’t even begin to imagine how cantankerous he would have become by now. But I’d give anything to have him back here, fixing the things that have gone wrong with the world since he left it in 1989.

I didn’t know him in his earlier years, of course — the learning period at the University of Virginia and Yale University Law School; the years of his service in the OSS during World War II; his time in the State Department where he was the chief legal draftsman of both the Marshall Plan and the NATO Treaty; or when he worked with Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger to reopen U.S. relations with China.

What I remember are those ten years of working with him — from 1979 to 1989 — when he was senior partner of the Washington-based international law firm of Surrey & Morse, advising his corporate clients on the fine art of doing business in numerous countries throughout the world.

I remember the calls from the State Department seeking his advice on a variety of delicate issues.

I remember his unsolicited advice to the Kremlin in 1983, via a contact in the Soviet Embassy in Washington, when Korean Airlines Flight 007 was shot down by Soviet fighter jets, with the newest member of our firm onboard.

I recall the meetings in our offices with Soviet officials, delegations from Beijing, and representatives of the widow of the last Shah of Iran.

And how could I ever forget our colossal fights when he was in one of his infrequent, but notorious, bad moods — usually because he wasn’t feeling well but refused to stay at home?

But most of all I remember his wicked sense of humor, his generosity, and his limitless capacity for drawing people to him and caring for them as though they were his own family . . . myself included.

For his sake, I’m glad he’s not around to see what has happened to our country — in fact, to the entire world — in his absence. But selfishly, how I wish he were here . . . running me ragged with his boundless energy and enthusiasm; sitting me down to talk things out when he sensed that I had a personal problem; and affectionately calling me “Bitch” on those rare occasions when I might verbally get the better of him.

And I remember, with renewed pain, the feeling that part of me had also died when I got the call from his wife that dreadful day in January of ‘89.

So, happy 111th, Walter. Thanks for giving me a decade of the most interesting, most frustrating, most educational, most exhausting, and most fun-filled years of my life.

I miss you every day.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/24/26

On this date, just one year ago, I published the following piece on the status of negotiations toward a ceasefire in Ukraine, titled “Another Day, Another Failure.”

*. *. *

‘To the surprise of absolutely no one, yesterday’s meeting in Istanbul between the Russian delegation — led by presidential aide Vladimir Medinsky — and the Ukrainian team — headed by Secretary of the National Security and Defense Council Rustem Umerov — concluded after barely an hour with an agreement to swap 1,200 prisoners of war and for Russia to return the bodies of 3,000 Ukrainian soldiers.

“But no movement toward a ceasefire.

“And just hours later, the two countries once again exchanged drone strikes, killing two and injuring another eleven people in the Russian resort city of Sochi, with three killed in Ukraine’s Kharkiv region and several injured in Cherkasy and Zaporizhzhia.

“In addition, a Russian missile attack struck — not a military facility, as they consistently claim to be targeting — but Odesa’s 200-year-old Pryvoz Market: an historic landmark, and one of the two most popular markets in Odesa.

“Ahead of the meeting at Istanbul, Ukraine’s Umerov said that Kyiv’s priority was to organize a meeting between Presidents Zelensky and Putin before the end of August; while Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov had said that they did ‘. . . not expect a breakthrough. A breakthrough is hardly possible.’ [Laura Gozzi, BBC News, July 24, 2025.]

“Peskov said further:

“‘They [Ukraine] are trying to put the cart slightly ahead of the horse,’ adding that there was a great deal of work yet to be done before such a meeting could take place. [Id.]

“Once again, Putin has made it quite clear that he has no intention of entering into peace negotiations in the foreseeable future.”

*. *. *

And here we are, 365 days later, watching history once again repeat itself:

This time it was a 35-minute meeting between U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Russian’s Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov on the sidelines of the annual gathering of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations in Manila, Philippines.

Thirty-five minutes devoted to a possible solution to a war now in its fifth year. Speaking to reporters, Rubio characterized the talks as “good” and “frank,” but said that fresh proposals would be needed in light of the failure of earlier attempts:

“The United States . . . is prepared to play a constructive role in bringing about an end to a senseless war. . . . You think we settled the war in Ukraine in our 30 minutes here in Asia? That’s not the way it works.” [Alex Raufoglu, RFE/RL, July 23, 2026.]

Russia’s Foreign Ministry later issued a statement expressing the Kremlin’s dissatisfaction with U.S. supplies of weapons to Ukraine, and accused European allies of “destabilizing policies [seeking a] strategic defeat” for Russia. [Id.]

The Russian side again raised the issue of agreements they claim were reached at the Trump-Putin meeting in Anchorage, Alaska, nearly a year ago. But the U.S. continues to deny that any meaningful terms were agreed upon in Anchorage — only repeated demands by Putin for concessions on Ukraine’s part. And yesterday, Rubio told reporters:

“We’ll have to find new suggestions and new ideas. Certainly that one was not acceptable to Ukraine at the time, and I don’t think it’s acceptable to them now either. In fact it’s probably less acceptable to them.” [Id.]

On his part, Lavrov had little to say. When questioned by reporters as he descended an escalator following the meeting, he either sidestepped or didn’t hear the questions. Pausing a few seconds, he finally replied to one reporter:

“Nice hairstyle.” [Id.]

Nice dodge, Mr. Lavrov.

So, again, “much ado about nothing.”

But no story concerning Moscow would be complete without two cents’ worth from Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov, who said that, while they are not overly optimistic about the prospects of a speedy end to the war, he does hope that U.S. envoys Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner would return to Moscow when they are available, in order to continue negotiations.

And we all know how useful they’ve been so far — or are likely to be in the future. If I may be permitted one more brief quote from Shakespeare, this time from Macbeth:

“It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/24/26

On July 23, 1973, in the midst of the Watergate scandal, President Richard M. Nixon refused to turn over 3,700 hours of secretly-recorded meetings and telephone conversations to the Senate Watergate Committee and Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox, citing executive privilege.

Sound familiar? It should.

But in 1973, we had a Congress, a Justice Department, and a Supreme Court dedicated to doing their jobs, upholding the Constitution of the United States, and pursuing accountability for all criminal acts, no matter who had committed them. They were not subservient to one man in the Oval Office.

Richard Nixon was ultimately held accountable. It took another year and a day; but on July 24, 1974, the Supreme Court ruled in United States v. Nixon that the president must hand over the tapes . . . and he did. Those tapes clearly implicated him in the Watergate cover-up, leading to the preparation for a possible impeachment vote in the House of Representatives. But before they could vote, Nixon did what was best for his country, his family and himself: he resigned on August 9, 1974, allowing the nation to begin its long healing process. [“This Day In History,” History.com, July 23, 2026.]

If only history would repeat itself yet again, and bring honor and accountability back to our government . . . allowing us to heal and to rebuild once more.

Just sayin’ . . ..

Brendochka
7/23/26

I’m not a professional writer; the only thing I’ve ever had published was an op.ed. piece for the Washington Post back in the ‘90s, and that was for free. But I enjoy the thought process, and playing with language, and sending my thoughts and feelings out into the universe. That’s why I started this blog.

That . . . and boredom. I was retired, with plenty of time on my hands and nothing challenging to fill it. So I simply started writing one day, and never stopped.

Which is why I was amused today to find this quote by the author of Homeless Souls and dozens of other works of fiction, at a time when I was feeling particularly uninspired and the words were being evasive:

“The best way to write is to lock yourself in a small room until you become so bored that the only thing left to do is write.”

– Jack Freestone

Now, if only I could interest someone in my book . . .

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/23/26

This week’s departure of British Prime Minister Keir Starmer is not expected to precipitate any major changes in the country’s Ukraine policy. In fact, the newly appointed Prime Minister, Andy Burnham, has already unequivocally said as much, announcing that his first official international calls would be to Donald Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky.

Needless to say, that did not sit well with the folks in Moscow. Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov — once again attempting to convince the world that Russia is not the villain in this “special military operation” — stated on July 21st that they construe Burnham’s statement as an indication of London’s intention to continue doing everything possible to extend the conflict in Ukraine, saying:

“This is a fact that we, of course, record.” [Izvestia, July 21, 2026.]

Indicating that they do not hope for any improvement in relations with London, he added:

“No, we don’t cherish such hopes, we don’t have such hopes.” [Id.]

According to Peskov, there are no plans as yet for a meeting between Putin and Burnham.

So, while most of the world has offered a warm diplomatic welcome to the new Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin has simply re-drawn his red line in the sand. But that hardly comes as a surprise; diplomacy has never been his strong suit.

Meanwhile, the combatants continue exchanging attacks — Ukraine striking Russian military forces, and Russia taking aim at Ukraine’s civilian population and infrastructure — in what is feeling more and more like another Hundred Years War.

Just sayin’ .. . .

Brendochka
7/23/26

. . . Vladimir Putin’s military takes out a UNICEF warehouse in Kyiv Oblast, destroying $3.9 million in humanitarian aid earmarked for Ukraine’s children and their families. [Euromaidan Press, July 21, 2026.]

Gone are the generators, drinking water, hygiene supplies, and other life-sustaining necessities being donated and stored for the coming winter.

This was no military target: it was a known humanitarian aid facility, deliberately hit as part of Putin’s campaign — along with his fire-bombing of Ukraine’s wheat fields — to starve into submission the people who have thwarted his invasion for nearly five years.

This is a special kind of evil, and the world must not give in to it; for if we do, it will overtake us all.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/22/26

That’s me. (Actually, I should say “That is I”; but this is just a conversation — not a term paper or a treatise — so let’s be casual about the grammar today.

The sad fact — unless you happen to be, say, Brittney Griner or Barron Trump — is that we all start to shrink after a certain age. And I was never tall to begin with: 5’ 2-1/2” at best. So it comes as no surprise that I can no longer reach even the lowest shelf in the kitchen cabinets, and have to step up onto a stool to use the microwave above the stove. In fact, between the normal compression of my intervertebral spaces due to age, and the five lumbar vertebrae that were surgically fused some years ago, I’ve shrunk so much that I think I could be officially classified as a “little person.” If this were 1939, I might even consider auditioning for a role as a Munchkin in The Wizard of Oz.

But it’s not physical shrinkage that is on my mind today. Rather, it is the ongoing reduction in the scope of our lives — both our physical environment and our social/intellectual reach.

The phenomenon — let’s call it the obsession with growth — begins in our childhood with toys; progresses in our teens to clothes and accessories, souvenirs of our accomplishments, and the latest electronic must-haves; and carries on throughout our working years with bigger acquisitions such as cars, furniture, jewelry, books, more electronics . . . whatever our individual interests happen to be.

At the same time, we are building our chosen careers as well, working toward promotions that will bring greater responsibility, higher earnings, and perhaps opportunities for travel.

If we start families, we move to bigger and bigger living spaces. And since nature abhors a vacuum, we fill that additional space over time with more and more stuff. Some of it is fairly expensive, much of it has only sentimental value. And we grow attached to all of it because it’s the story of our lives.

As we grow older, all of those things conjure up memories, and bring us comfort. They remind us of more active days, perhaps happier times. And while our children and grandchildren only see it all as a pile of dust collectors, we see treasures.

Then it begins to happen. We wake up one morning and realize that something has changed. It’s a little harder to get out of bed, or to bend over, or to climb the stairs. Maybe we’ve developed a chronic ailment or two, or just seem to need more sleep than we used to. Perhaps we’ve retired from the work force, and are living on a severely reduced income, forcing us to forego some of our favorite activities.

The kids are grown and gone. The spouse or significant other may no longer be with us, or experiencing physical problems of their own. Suddenly the home that you spent years growing into is too big, too hard to keep clean, or simply has too many stairs. And you finally admit to yourself that . . . good grief! . . . it’s time to downsize.

Well, if you think all of those earlier moves into bigger and bigger homes were difficult, just wait until you try it in reverse — and at a time in your life when you are least able to cope with the stresses, both physically and emotionally.

That big, comfortable furniture — purchased to fill those spacious rooms — will never fit into the new little apartment.

And without all of your built-in book shelves, what will you do with the hundreds of precious books that have taught you so much?

Will you have enough wall space for all of the framed pictures of the kids, grandkids, and travel adventures? (In my case, there’s also the Lenin portrait smuggled out of Russia in 1993.)

Have you really looked in every closet, every drawer, every nook and cranny lately? I mean, really looked. Try it, even if you’re not planning to move. You won’t believe the stuff you’ll find! What will you do with all of it?

I can’t even imagine what it would be like trying to transition to an assisted living facility. But Heaven help you even if you’re lucky enough to be able to move in with one of your offspring. No matter how much you love each other, how compatible you are, and how often they tell you “Mi casa es su casa,” it will never really be your casa in the fullest sense, because you would rather cut off your right arm than upset their lives any more than necessary. It’s their home, not yours, and they have their own way of doing things. You have come the full 360 degrees around that circle of life; you raised them, and now it’s time to let them help you.

Anyway, you’re finally resettled, having disposed of 90% of your worldly belongings and memories — or placed most of it in storage, where you’ll pay rent for it forever and probably never look at any of it again, leaving it for someone else to deal with after you’re dead.

So now what? Along with the furniture and other things, you’ve also left behind your regular routines, the daily habits cultivated over however-many-decades. You have other people’s needs and schedules to work around. And you can no longer run through the house naked, or leave the bathroom door open when you . . . Well, you get the picture.

But that’s actually not the hard part. Because you have most likely moved to an entirely new location, perhaps a new city where you don’t know anyone, or where anything is located, or which way is north from wherever you are. And you’ve likely left behind your old friends — the few who are still alive — with whom you have shared the better part of a lifetime of laughter and tears, good times and bad, and your deepest, darkest secrets. Your history is now just a few weeks old, and while the new people you meet may be perfectly lovely, they will never replace your old friends.

Your entire world has shrunk to the size of your assigned living space. The range of your small talk has also shrunk because there is no one around who shared all those earlier decades with you. And your new people don’t know the vibrant, active, interesting person you used to be. Instead, they see only the shrunken physical remains, and assume that you are now content to sit on the sidelines and watch the world go by.

But they’re wrong. What they don’t see . . . what they won’t understand until they get there themselves . . . is that inside of you is that same vibrant, interesting person you were 30, 40 or 50 years ago. Maybe not as active, but still aware, alert, and capable of learning and participating and contributing.

We don’t all want to be told to join the local senior center and weave baskets or paint little pictures or do chair yoga. Some of us still crave mental stimulation, in-depth conversation, the opportunity for academic enrichment.

And some of us write, sending our thoughts out to anyone who has the time and the curiosity to read.

That’s me . . . sorry . . . That is I.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/22/26

After following the Feenstra family around Crimea for several days during which they visited numerous farms and took a break to soak up the sunshine and local culture in the Black Sea resort city of Sevastopol, I am left with that not-quite-satisfied feeling of hunger I experience after eating a healthy salad and no dessert.

Their final episode consisted of a climb into the mountains to an ancient monastery-cum-tourist-attraction. The scenery was amazing; the narration, less so. Arend spoke about their appreciation for the wonderful opportunity they’d been given to expand their knowledge of farming methods.

Unfortunately, his knowledge of the creation of our physical world proved itself to be somewhat less than his skill at farming, due to his literal interpretation of the Bible. While at the mountain-top monastery, he had a discussion with an individual who explained that the local mountain ranges had been formed over millions of years. Arend stubbornly argued that, according to calculations based on the stories in the Bible, they could be no more than 4,000 to 4,500 years old. So strong is his religious belief that he is able to completely disregard any scientific evidence that contradicts his chosen, 2,000-year-old source of all knowledge.

But it is that faith that carries this family through even the most difficult of times. In the next video, we see them back on the farm in Nizhny Novgorod, where they have just taken delivery of a new mower — after a number of frustrating delays and ultimately being given a different, poorer quality machine than the one they had bought and paid for.

And that was it. Two months of waiting and wondering, only to be shown videos that presented an idealized vision of Crimea — a beautiful corner of Ukraine that, despite all of the public relations drivel, is nonetheless a war zone, illegally occupied by Russian forces. The whole thing was propaganda at its most basic level, all wrapped up in a series of well-edited, idealized videos by a Canadian family who chose to live in Vladimir Putin’s Russia.

But in truth, I really shouldn’t have expected otherwise.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/21/26