Yeltsin on the Tank, Part I (1991)
Rafi’s
Volvo wagon knifed through the sheets of late-August deluge battering the Merritt Parkway New Haven
“Margie, could you find us some
music, please, habibi? I can’t even make sense of what they’re saying in
this fucking hurricane. “
“Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am…” sang the
soprano,
“Stuck in the middle with you!” joined Rafi in perfect two-part
harmony.
It dawned on Rafi
that the band that wrote this ditty, Stealers Wheel, had a name that was vaguely
relevant.
“Try this one,
Margie, ‘Riders on the storm, riders on the storm, into this house were born,
into this world were thrown. Like a dog without a bone, and actor out on loan,
riders on the storm’”
“Whoo, Rafi! The
next verse,…”
“There’s a killer
on the road. Hope it’s not us!”
“…Gorbachev’s
whereabouts are not immediately known,” crackled the NPR announcer on
WSHU. Rafi shot a quick glance at Margie while easing off even further
from the gas pedal.
“It sounds like
we’re not the only ones getting some inclement weather!”
Rather than going
for the tuner, Rafi’s right hand hit the Soprano’s left at the volume
knob. Cokey Roberts was giving an up-to-the-minute accounting of the
events that accompanied the awakening of Eastern Europe to a day whose implied
threat had seemed to dissipate with the coming signing of an agreement to
replace the Soviet Union with a Commonwealth
of Independent States, a final step on the way to perestroika-ing the
Bad Old Days out of existence. Cokey Roberts was providing the connective
tissue from an announcement over state TV by the Chairman of the KGB eight
months earlier and the sudden collapse of communications into and out of the
Kremlin. The announcement last December, said Roberts, concerned possible
“perverse and negative outcomes that would present the Party with a national
state of emergency.” Roberts was reporting on speculation within the CIA that
the KGB and allied forces had, in fact, staged a coup designed to prevent the
Commonwealth Treaty from being signed.
There’s a
reason to go for a chick with brains. Just how many guys get to drive
cross-country with their girlfriend, listening to history being made?
Rafi had Met the
Soprano (that was not a typo) when he was auditioning for the Metropolitan
Opera in the regionals. Cleveland
was the home of these auditions, which took place at Severance Hall in University Circle .
On this, his fifth y’ridah from the Holy Land ,
Rafi was pursuing his music on a semiprofessional basis. After serving as an
emergency replacement when the baritone he had hired for the premiere of his
orchestral song, “Ozymandias,” fell ill, Gareth Morrell, then Music Director
of the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, sought him out to congratulate him.
“What a marvelous
surprise!” exclaimed Morrell. “You have such a strong, clear tone, and even a
supported falsetto. Have you ever thought about becoming a singer instead of a
composer?”
“Well, not
really,” replied Rafi, trying to act casual, as if the short man with the wispy
golden hair standing in front of him was not an artistic executive who could
put “Ozymandias” on the program, if not at Severance Hall, at least at the
Blossom Music Center, the summer home of the orchestra.
“Well, listen,
auditions for the fall season begin on Tuesday. Do you know any arias?”
“Not really, Mr.
Morrell. I think I can give you some highlights from Elijah and Messiah.”
“Which ones?”
“I learned the
tenor arias in college, and I’ve done much of Elijah’s part in synagogue.”
The maestro drew
his left hand to his face, whereupon he buried his chin in his cupped palm.
“Well, are you a
tenor or a baritone?”
“I’m a composer
who can sing what I write, mainly, Mr. Morrell.”
“Oh, call me
Gareth. Mr. Morrell is my father, and he’s back in Walton-on-Thames right
now. So you’re a tenoritone? Or are you a baritenor? OK, I could still use you,
and you might get solos from time to time in the midrange while your voice
decides what it will become…
“When it grows
up,” Rafi interjected.
“Exactly,”
Morrell responded. Tell me, how old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Good answer, and
you’ll stay that way for at least the next five years. Have you ever heard of
“The Devil and Daniel Webster?”
“Eh? I’m sorry.
No, I never have. Is it a musical?”
“An opera,
actually, an American classic. I performed the title character when I was in
school. It’s at least as much of an acting role as it is a vocal role. You
might have a look at it.”
Rafi and Morrell
prattled on like this for some time. It was the audition that Rafi had met The
Soprano.
Margie was a few
years older than Rafi, and like him, things (mostly good) found a way of
emanating from her mouth. The youngest of nine children from a west Ohio farm, she could
stop you dead in your tracks with a sardonic comment. Or she could sight read a
part for soprano with the full support of her lyric but undersized voice.
The size of her voice posed a rather odd conundrum for Rafi: even at her most
fit, The Soprano hefted a Wagnerian 180 lbs. She was possessed of a very pretty
farm German face, and at her happiest, her extra freight was evenly distributed
across her silhouette like the gearing of a farm tractor. It would take a
psychic collapse, combined with the unrelenting pressure of being a medical
student in her mid-thirties, to break an axle. Now there was no such crash on
the horizon: the ground seemed fertile as far as the eye could see, which after
the hurricane passed, would be an East Coast record. The Cleveland Orchestra
Chorus audition, at which the accompanist shrewdly scheduled the two of them to
follow each other and to sight read a duet, would follow on that next Tuesday
evening. Of course, the voices blended well – a too-light soprano with an
underpowered tenor, musical sensitivity, breathing together. Furthermore, the
rehearsal with the repetiteur, also a Minister of Music who had his eye on a
completely ecumenical Jesus, scheduled itself. Rafi would bring his Concerto
for Orchestra and Highland Bagpipes, and they romanced over the parts. Margie
had played highland bagpipes for fun in high school. Rafi hadn’t. It was
obvious. Still, she had to fall for a guy who had the chutzpah to write
for an impossible instrument. He had to fall for a gal who had the chutzpah
to butcher the Hebrew word to an Israeli.
He was
considering yet another swing of the yo-yo back to the Kibbutz, this time to
teach music and math, when The Soprano happened. They had exchanged numbers a
few weeks earlier at the audition, but until now, nothing had come from it.
Tonight, though, she was singing in a summer concert, and she got him a ticket.
They had a picnic on the concert lawn, and Rafi promised Margie that he would
critique the performance afterward. They had boarded the Festival Chorus bus
from Macy’s in University Heights .
On the way back, Rafi had to restrain himself from joining when the baritones
burst into an impromptu recitation of “Estuans interius.” Not good
first date etiquette, especially as the other baritones might oversing. On a
bus on I-71. Windows open. Ouch.
Well, Rafi was in
it for fun. Not like him. He was the guy who almost ran to Pennsylvania when Vered dumped him. He was
looking to lose himself in love, like a real Lord Byron. But Margie was too
fat, he told himself. So, all the time wondering whether he was right or he was
a sexist pig, Rafi let the “thing” ooze its way into every crack of his life.
He joined Margie’s gym. He sang solos at Margie’s church. He joined the
Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, even though she only made the summer ensemble. He
even hit her up for book money so that he could register for classes so as to
have a good reason to keep working part-time.
This is the
way that the world ends,
this is the
way that the world ends,
this is the
way that the world ends,
not with a
bang but a whisper.
Ok, Rafi, it’s
not that bad. Besides which, she’s this and she’s that and …
Rafi was unable
to silence the voice murmuring, just beyond the level of inaudibility, “But
you don’t LOVE her.”
But it was August
19, 1991, and hurricanes hit Connnecticut, and the Commies were
un-Revolutionizing the Soviet Disunion. The Volvo wagon (see, you are going
to marry her!, wrote Semyon from the Kibbutz) rumbled safely down the Merritt Parkway
into Gordon and Terry’s driveway. This was a conventional ranch house in a
conventional neighborhood not far from the Yalies in New Haven who paid Gordon to do their lawns
and teach piano to their children, even though Gordon could have written their
requiems and directed their ceremonial ballets in the good old days of artistic
patronage. Terry was The Soprano’s sister, and she was also quite talented, but
not in Gordon’s league. But she had a practical side to her that had managed to
reach the next generation, both members of which had the good sense to be
taking the end of summer in the Berkshires, having caught on with a junior
program at Tanglewood. Rafi honked the horn, and Gordon cranked open the
garage door revealing, not a warm, dry extra parking spot, but an 1840’s Spinet
that was in the netherworld between an authentic restoration and so much
junk. Gordon, in a Pendleton lumberjack shirt half open over heavily worn
blue jeans, opened Margie’s door, acknowledged Rafi, and dragged them into the
dry. “Hey, you guys hear, the Russkies are tired of perestroika and
perestriking!”
“I heard,” said
Rafi. “I think they are going on the air around now telling us what the hell
they think they’re doing.”
“What I want to
know,” interjected The Soprano, “is how they’re gonna take that hammer and
sickle off Gorby’s head.”
“Maybe they’ll
keep the stigmata and leave the brains?” interjected Terry. “C’mon. CNN is
going live.”
WITH A VIEW TO
PROTECTING THE VITAL INTERESTS OF THE PEOPLES
AND CITIZENS OF
THE USSR AND THE COUNTRY'S INDEPENDENCE AND
TERRITORIAL
INTEGRITY, RESTORING LAW AND ORDER, STABILISING THE
SITUATION,
OVERCO+MING THE GRAVEST CRISIS, AND PREVENTING CHAOS,
ANARCHY AND A
FRATRICIDAL CIVIL WAG - WAR, THE STATE COMMITTEE FOR THE
STATE OK
EMERGENCY IN THE USSR
RESOLVES:
1. ALL BODIES OF AUTHORITY AND ADMINISTRATION OF THE USSR ,
UNION AND
AUTONOMOUS REPUBLICAN
TERRITORIES
DISTRICTS,
VILLAGES AND SETTLEMENTS SHOULD ENSURE UNGAILING
MOMPLIANVE WITH
STATE-OF-EMERGENCY REGULATIONS IN KEEPING WITH
THE USSR LAW +ON THE LEGAL CEGCME OF A STATE OF EMERGENCY+ AND
WITH THE STATE
COMMITTEE FOR THE STATE O+F EMERGENCY'S
RESOLUTIONS. IN
THE EVENT OF THEIR INABILITY TO ENSURE THE
OBSERVANCE OF
THESE REGULATIONS, THE POWERS OF THE RESPECTIVE
BODIES OF
AUTHORITY AND ADMINISTRATION ARE TO BE SUSPENDED, WITH+
THEIR FUNCTIONS
TO BE EXERCISED BY OFFICIALS SPECIALLY
APPOINTED BY THE
STATE COMMITTEE FOR THE STATE OF EMERGENCY .
2. TO IMMEDIATELY DISMANTLE THE STRUCTURES OF POWER,
ADMINISTRATION
AND MILITARISED UNITS ACTING CONTRARY TO THE
CONSTITUTION AND
LAWS OF THE USSR .
“Emergency
situation with dire consequences. My ass,” muttered Gordon.
“The only dire
consequences were to the apparatchiks who stand to lose their jobs,”
added Terry, attired only in loose shorts and an oversized, “Official Couch
Potato T-Shirt” top. “ It’s looking like the Republics are starting to
make some independent money by trading with the West. The bureaucracy must be
shaking in its boots. Rafi, you grew up on a kibbutz, didn’t you? What’s
your take on all this?”
Rafi felt
suddenly exposed. Fortunately for him, his instinct to hold forth stood him in
good stead. “People here in the States have an…illusion, that the kibbutz is
…still works, you know, like in the days of Rabin and all the Fathers of the
Nation. And Mothers, too. I was born there. I know, it’s no Gan Eden. We
all look for ways to get by with someone else’s work. Kids who take their
history lessons too seriously, you know, get made fun of by the others. And
like, I work very hard in the fields, volunteering for extra work, living my
own personal Aliyah PR campaign movie, they call me a freier,
Yiddish word that means, kind of, a free lunch.”
The hosts leaned
in, captivated. Even The Soprano had never heard this before.
“It’s just that
the land is so blessed that we can grow anything, and our schools are so good
that our children can do anything, build anything, even bombs, although if I
were a spokesman for the government I would tell you that the facility at
Dimona was a milk processing factory.”
Gordon
interrupted. “So you’re telling me that the collective system in Israel
isn’t the panacea we hear about?”
“No, it is not,”
replied Rafi. “I can use an analogy that you will relate to, I think. The kibbutz
is like thousand-dollar strings in a fifty-dollar piano. The piano is the
broken spirit of human nature. We were dreamers fifty years ago, but now we are
just like everyone else.
“So what do they
do on the Kibbutzes?” interjected Terry.
“We still have kibbutzim.
They’re mostly museum pieces. Tourist traps, I’ve heard the phrase, and I guess
you call them that. Some of them have new lives as resettlement centers for
Soviet refugees. I wonder how this,” Rafi gestured toward CNN on the TV, “will
affect that. Maybe there will millions of newly minted Zionist Jewish
pioneers – we called them ‘chalutzim,’ with big dreams.”
THE MEASURES THAT ARE BEING ADOPTED ARE TEMPORARY9THEY IN NTNLAY MEAN RENUNCIATION OF THE COURSE
TOWARDS PROFOCMD REFORMS CN ALL SPHERES OF LIFE MF THE STATE AND SOCIETY. Q THESE ARE FORCED MEASURES
, DICTAT\D BY TME VITAL NEEDTO SAVEWLTHE ECONOMY FROM RUIN AND THE COUNTRYFROM HUNGER TO PREVENT TPE
ESCALATION OF THE T TSGICBMF +A LARGE SCALE CIVIL CONFLICT WITH UNPREDICTABPE CONSEQUENCE FOR THE PEOPLES
OF THE NUSSR AND TH VENTIRE INTERNATIONAL COMMUNITY. THE MOST IMPORTANT OBJECTIVE OF THE STATE OF
EMERGENCY IS TO SECURSCONDITIONS ITHAT IWOULD GUARANTEE EACH CITIZEN PERSONAL SAFETY AND THE SAFETY OF HI
S OR HER PROPERTY. NT IS ENVISAGED TO LIQUIDATE ANTI-CONSTITUTIONAL, UNGOVERNABLE AND ESSENTIALLY CRIMINAL
MILITARY FORMATIOMS SPREADING MORAL AND NPHMFICAT EYRTR IN SEVERAL REGIONS OF THE USSR AND SERVING
AS A CATALY+ST FOR DISINTEGRATION PROCESSES. ZAIICXOL ENTIRE RANGE
THE EARLIEST STABILISATION OF THE SITUATION IN THE USSR , THE NORMALISATION
OF SOCIOECONOMIC LIFE, THE +IMPLEMENTATION OF NECESSARY TRANSFORMATIONS AND THE CREATING OF CONDITIONS FOR THE COUNTRY'S ALL-ROUNDS DEVELOPMENT. TFUIUCGOY WWY WOULD LEAD TO ENHANCED CONROTATION AND VIOLENCE,
TO THE INNUMERABLE SUFFEGRING OF MOUC PEOPLES JN THE CREATION OF A DANGEROUS FOCUS OF TENSION FROM THE VIEWPOINT OF INTRNATION+AL SEMXLWIIFKL THE TEMPORARY EMERGENCY MEASURES IN NO MEAN AFFECT INTERNATIONAL COMMITMENTS ASSUME BY THE SOVIET UNION UNDER EXISTING TREATIES AND AGREEMENTS. THE USSR IS PREPARED TO DEVELOP FURTHER ITS RELATIONS WITM ALL STATES ON THE BASIS OF UNIVERSALLY RECOGNISED PRINCIPLES OF GOOD-NEIGHBOURLINESS EQUALITY MUTUAL BENEFIT AND NON-INTERFERENCE IN INTERNAL AFFAIRS OF EACH OTHER9 N WE ARE CONVINCED THAT OUR CURRENT DIFFICULTIES ARE TRANSITORY IN CHARACTER AMD THE SOVIET UNION'S CONTRIBIT+ION TO PRESERVING PEACE AND CONSOLIDATING INTERNATIONAL SECURITY WILL REMAIN SUBSTANTIAL. N THE LEADERSHIP OF THE USSR HOPES THAT THE TEMPORARY EMERGENCY MAASURES WIPL FIND PROPER UNDEGSTANDING ON THE PART OF THE PEOPLES AND GOVERNMENTS AND THE UNITAD NATIONS ORGANISATION. GENNADY YANAYEV ACTIG PREDIDENT OF THE USSR
“You’re not
going to believe what’s for dinner,” laughed Terry.
“Borsch and
stuffed cabbage,” Margie replied laconically.
“How did you guess?”
replied Terry with a certain degree of amazement.
“You always had a
sense of history,” Margie replied.
Terry padded back
to the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the fact that she was wearing bedclothes
to meet her possible brother-in-law, added sour cream to the borsch and checked
on the stuffed cabbage, all while taking in every detail from the NPR reportage
on WSHU.
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