My Brother Gennady

For a number of years I lived in Seattle. It was my first long-term away from home experience and, although I tried hard to hide it, I did find myself homesick at times. Mom and Dad, always being respectful of the decisions of their children, wanted to make sure they gave me enough space...as if I'd intentionally moved away from them. Of course, that wasn't the case (suffice it to say that there were other reasons and circumstances that prompted my move north, but no reason explain them here), and I was absolutely thrilled when they planned a trip that would have them visiting me for a few days.

We had a great time wandering around the city, taking in the sights, visiting my office so Dad could make sure that the company I worked for was legit. They were just a few years away from retirement but already in full travel mode, ready for new places and new experiences. One evening we took a ferry across the Puget Sound to Bainbridge Island and dined at a very nice restaurant where my friend, Michael, worked. Having known me and the family since high school, Michael gave us all the VIP treatment, with great attention and service, visits from the owner and head chef, and even gave Dad a quick peek into the kitchen. Dad loved to see a bustling commercial kitchen. As drinks were ordered, Dad was surprised to hear me ask for a martini. He was disappointed that it was made with gin instead of vodka, but we still clinked our glasses with a hearty "Nostrovia!"

The conversation was active and lively, as was usual with the folks. We talked politics and business, family issues and our own thoughts and dreams. Around the time the second round was being delivered to our table, Dad said, "I think if we were to have another son I would like to name him Gennady."

I think Mom gasped for a moment, before collecting herself, saying, "What makes you think we're ever going to have more children?"

"I'm just saying that if we did, then I like the name Gennady."

"Okay, John. You go ahead and think that."

I know Dad was being provocative and joking, but maybe just half joking. He always loved the little ones; he knew all the right games to play and all the ways to interact with them. As keen as he was at his very adult language of business, science and mathematics, he was equally keen at the language of children and play. The funny thing was, when he made that comment I could actually picture Dad with a new baby, being delighted with each moment spent together. Luckily for Mom, us kids kept having children of our own to help keep him occupied.

Dad had a way of throwing non-sequiturs into the conversation at hand. You had to think on your feet. Sometimes it was so random and out of place, but to those who knew him, they always somehow fit and made the discussion all that more fund and interesting. It was all just silly speculation, I know, but sometimes I find myself wondering about my little brother Gennady...I bet I would have liked him.