May Day Memories: The U-2 Spy Plane Incident

During Communist days, May 1st was a major holiday in Russia, known as International Workers' Solidarity Day, a day to flex military muscle with a parade through Red Square.



But May 1, 1960, was likely the most dramatic May Day in history, thanks to the USA, particularly the CIA. It was on that day that (Francis) Gary Powers' U-2 spy plane was shot down over Russia and he was captured live.



Nikita Krushchev was quite pleased to announce the capture of the plane. Particularly since U.S. President Eisenhower had stated that the plane was a weather plane that had simply gone astray. But that was before he knew that Powers had been captured alive.

The trial of U-2 pilot Gary Powers was Cold War drama at its highest. He was sentenced to three years in prison and seven years of hard labor. As fate would have it, Powers served only 21 months of the sentence before he was exchanged for Soviet Master Spy, Rudolf Abel.

The spy swap took place near Potsdam, Germany on Glienicker Bridge over the Havel River. According to Time, The Soviet and East German officials clustered at one end, the Americans, led by Assistant Secretary of State Richard Burt, at the other. . .

This whole incident was quite controversial. Here is an interesting recent interview with Gary Powers Jr, son of the pilot and founder of the Cold War Museum.

And how about you, dear blog reader. Have you ever been poking around in somebody else's territory and got caught? Did you go to trial, per chance? This may be the time and place to spill the beans.

As for myself, I do have a confession to make. Approximately three years after Gary Powers and the U-2 incident, I found myself drawn by some magnetic force - pre-adolescent agnst, perhaps - to the decorative box in which a certain Mrs Bernard stored her cosmetics. In the mid-sixties, I was that family's babysitter and I loved dabbling in her blush and lipstick and such. Make-up was something that my mother did not wear at that time, a matter of principle, which made the tubes and potions and lotions all the more alluring. Especially the mascara. Wonder if Mrs Bernard had any idea. Of course, surveillance cameras were not readily available then but perhaps I had left other clues. But if she did, Mrs Bernard never let on. At least I was never brought to trial and sentenced to prison or hard labor. But had I had been caught, I certainly hope the mascara would have been waterproof.

Churches of My Childhood: A Walk Down Memory Lane

Perhaps you live in the community in which you were raised. Or, perhaps life has taken you to places elsewhere - another community, another state, another country. But if, per chance, you have have revisited your childhood home and haunts, you may relate to my recent trip to small town Ohio and my trip down memory lane.

Our family lived in Rittman, Ohio during much of my childhood. Lots of cousins, aunts and uncles still live there and recently I spent some time in Rittman and enjoyed a walk down memory lane. Church was an important part of my young life. We were a family who went Sunday morning, Sunday night and mid-week service too. I could hardly stand to sit through the sermons that seemed to drag on forever, but what a spiritual foundation that has been.

Until I was five, we attended church here, the Rittman Church of Christ, now the Rittman Christian Church. Several weeks ago, I attended a Sunday evening service there.



Many changes have been made to the building, although some original windows remain. What had been the entire auditorium is now the foyer. The building seemed so big 50 years ago. Amazing, isn't it, what time does to our perception of size?


I remember walking to the church one Sunday evening, holding my dad's hand and skipping along the sidewalks. I remember sitting in the wooden pew with Dad's arm draped around behind me. His hand was dangling five inches from my nose and I remember the hand of a carpenter, strong and calloused, a fingernail black and blue.

I remember helping myself to an ornament off the church Christmas tree. It was probably red and sparkley. Later that day, Mom discovered my new treasure and she insisted that I return it. What a meanie. ;)

I remember the Japanese lady who visited our children's group and told us that Japanese children were already in bed for the night. She was clad in national costume - a kimono, the special clogs and two-toed socks and she held a fan. Her visit opened up new windows of thought in my young mind. That was 35 years before CNN. Otherwise we probably would have already known all that. Or maybe not.

As time went on, a group, including my parents, left that church and started another. They were mostly young families, all sincere and well meaning but with perhaps more enthusiasm than wisdom at times. We met in this building which my dad built south of town, the 2nd story added years later after a publisher purchased it.

We were at this building thrice weekly from 1957 or so until 1968. There were 35 or so of us kids in that church and what a grand time we had after evening services catching lightning bugs, playing tag and running off our boundless energy.

And we sang. We must have known songs by the hundred. Dear cousin Marilyn - we're double-cousins, actually - and I recently sat down together and sang our way through the Singspiration Songbook. Oh what fun that was.

Here was one that sticks in my mind:
I want to be more than a Sunday-go-to-meetin'-Christian!
I want a religion that fills me ev'ry da-ay-ay-ay.
Sayin' AMEN to the preacher is fine, if all the week I let my light shine.
I wanna be more than a Sunday-go-to-meetin'-Christian!

Those early years were far from perfect and I rather imagine that my dear parents - may they rest in peace - and others would do some things a bit differently, given the chance to rewind and redo. But still there is much for which to be thankful. I'm so grateful to have had parents who pointed me toward God, who tried to lay a spiritual foundation in my young life.

And now, as I serve children in Rostov-on-Don, I enjoy teaching them songs that I learned at the age of five, songs that we now have translated into Russian. Songs such as Climb, Climb Up Sunshine Mountain; Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam; If You're Happy and You Know It. Only in recent years have Russian folk had freedom of religion. Our Christian brothers and sisters can hardly imagine being raised with a Christian heritage and they often remind our children how much they wish their own childhoods had included such an opportunity.

Oh dear Lord, please bless my efforts to provide a spiritual foundation for children in Rostov-on-Don. Please grant wisdom and help me to pass along that which is good and pure and holy to the precious children you bring into our congregation there. Oh dear Lord, I pray that 50 years from now that there will be dozens of Godly men and women there with fond memories of how they first learned about You and Your love for them. With memories of what was good and holy in my life. Help them to overlook the human frailties, help them to see a teacher who depended upon you and held tightly onto your hand, the calloused hands of a carpenter.

He is Risen! Today is Orthodox Easter

Today is Easter Sunday in the Orthodox world, including Russia. Of course Western Easter (or Catholic Easter as it's called around here) was celebrated earlier. The difference in the two Easter dates is puzzling because both claim to celebrate Easter on the first Sunday following the first full moon after the vernal equinox. And this year, the vernal equinox was the 3rd week of March. So the five weeks between the two Easters this year had me quite puzzled until I read that the vernal equinox is defined somewhat differently by the Catholic and Orthodox churches. Or. . . something like that.



Earlier this week, I was yakking about this with dear cousin Joyce and she said something pretty neat. Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? See, she's a farm girl and in my experience, farm girls are somewhat more practical and realistic than the rest of us. Especially me. And she hit the nail on the head there. Because it really does not matter on which date Easter is celebrated. Because for one thing, the term is not even in the Bible, not in the best translations anyway. More importantly, we're meant to celebrate The Resurrection of Christ on every Sunday. And that is exactly what we do.

Across Russia today, our Christian brothers and sisters would have said to each other in greeting, Christ is Risen! And the response, He is Risen, indeed! That one concept, so simple yet so profound, is the most significant truth of all. He is risen, indeed!

When a Friend Turns Fifty: Time for a Bouquet of Prunes

When a special friend has a big birthday, it's time to have a little fun. Dear friend Karen hit FIFTY this past week and that called for something special. My cousin Joyce, party planner extraordinaire, and my host here in Beautiful Ohio, recommended a prune bouquet. So that's what we did. Ever heard of a prune bouquet?

This bouquet was delivered to Karen at work and happened that she was in a serious telephone conversation with a client. That makes it all the better. Apparently the conversation went south pretty quickly when the bouquet arrived, but knowing Karen, she recovered quickly and with aplomb. Especially now that she's FIFTY years old and has had decades of experience dealing with surprises.


So, here it is, a plant with 50 prunes poking out on skewers. It's the price to pay for turning 50. Just between the two of us, this arrangement is different that what I requested of the florist. As you know, communication can be a tricky, even when people are speaking the same language. Especially when the conversation is about something as outside the box as prune bouquets tend to be. I had (thought I had) asked for the green plant, 50 prunes on 50 skewers and then white baby's breath in-between as filler. So next time, I'll know to ask the florist to repeat back to me what she thought I said. Either that or find a florist who specializes in bouquets of prunes.


Here's dear Karen in a recent photo. This photo doesn't do her justice but then again she was being stubborn about how to pose. Shrieking, as I recall, about not wanting to be at an angle. Okay okay, but you'll be sorry, I thought to myself. So this serves her right for turning FIFTY as well as arguing with the photographer. Figured she'd be more cooperative after eating a few prunes. ;) Happy Birthday Dear Karen!

How about you? Participated in any mischievous gifts for friends' Big Birthdays? Been the recipient of others' gags? Please share!

Kremlin Rules: Russia Embraces Its Church - New York Times

In today's New York Times, a story by Clifford Levy about Russian Orthodoxy as the annointed religion in Russia. Interesting article (registration required).

(Photo by James Hill for the New York Times)


Russian Orthodox Church in Rostov-on-Don, Russia.