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OUR LIFE Monthly, published by Ukrainian National Women s League of America VOL. XLVI JANUARY 1989 Editor: Marta Baczynsky ORYSIA PYLYSHENKO CHRISTMAS IN LVIV It was 10 P.M. and rather late to start Christmas Day dinner, but not on a working day in Lviv. My father and I were seated in the living room, banished from the kit chen, where last-minute preparations were in full swing. From the kitchen wonderful smells wafted towards us and mingled with the scent of the freshly cut yalynka (Christmas tree). Three months earlier I had arrived in Ukraine to study Ukrainian literature at the Ivan Franko University in Lviv. I had graduated from college, married and was working as a computer systems analyst in Washington, D.C., when the opportunity to live in Ukraine presented itself. This had been a life-long dream and I felt that despite the difficulties involved I had to go. Amid anx ious faces of family and friends I set out for five months in Ukraine. It was three months later that my father, a little worried but more curious to see how I had adapted to Soviet Ukrainian life, came to visit me on his Christ mas holiday. This was how we came to be together in Lviv last Christmas. We were at the home of a university student who had become my friend soon after my arrival from the U.S. and who had played an active role in my cultural education. She and her family often invited me to cultu ral events such as poetry readings and folk music con certs and dinners at their home where, invariably we would put on a concert of our own around the dinner table. It was here that someone said, “You have become so familiar to us that we forget that you are American.” A nicer compliment I have never heard. At one time this had been a true village, but by the mid 20th century Lviv encroached. My friend’s house was a village-type single family home with a large garden and small orchard. Now it was “suburbia”, but very unlike the newest suburbs of identical high-rise build ings along the city’s edge. Indeed, it still resembled the rambling village it once was. An old church and bell- less bell tower stood on the hill. The road in front of the house still awaited pavement. Despite the hot and cold running water, the well outside was kept in working order. “Grandfather insisted upon it,” they said, in case of another war.” The inside of the house was fit for the pages of Bet ter Homes and Gardens, the Ukrainian edition. Each Гетьман з "Вертепу". Львів, 1987 Het’man - Vertep, Lviv, 1987 corner was painstakingly decorated with tinsel — a very expensive luxury at the equivalent of about $10.00 per garland on a salary of $250.00 per month. Also, decorat ing the room were figures of St. Nicholas, candles and religious paintings. Particularly valued were the Ukrain ian language Christmas cards received from members of the family living in the West. A large yalynka stood in the corner; a kaleidoscope of colored lights and spar kling ornaments, it drew the undivided attention of the two house cats. I was finally experiencing my first Christmas in Lviv. The truth was that I had been in search of Christmas the entire month of December and had begun to worry that my favorite holiday would pass by unnoticed. As W a shington was dressing for the holidays, Lviv looked grayer than ever. Except for several Did Moroz (Grand father Frost) dolls in storefront windows and cottonball 20 ’НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, СІЧЕНЬ 1989 Видання C оюзу Українок A мерики - перевидано в електронному форматі в 2012 році . A рхів C У A - Ню Йорк , Н . Й . C Ш A.
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