On Christmas Eve

Here comes Christmas. And again there is a crisis. But different.

Back then, our houses were hardly heated, salaries were paid occasionally, food was not bought, but obtained. Some had already left, but all close friends were alive. I won’t say that “we were young,” but the continuation of this cliché corresponds to the reality of that time - we “were full of hope.” In many ways, these hopes were justified - all that remains is to get used to the fact that not everyone is. However, getting used to it does not mean reconciling. Below, without any changes, is my letter from 1991 to a close friend, the famous mathematician Andrei Toom, who emigrated to the USA, with whom we celebrated Christmas in the new style for many years.

December 26, 1991

Dear Andrey, thank you very much for the Beardsley album - wow, it arrived right on Christmas Eve! Yesterday we drank not only to you, but also to Vadim, as well as to everyone we love and who is far away.

Everyone appeared “in tailcoats”; I, despite the cold, put on the evening dress you know. By some miracle, Yura bought an excellent Christmas tree, under which they put gifts. Sasha Poltoratsky, as my oldest friend, gave me two jars of apple jam and a box of rolled oats filled with noodles. Schrader was blessed by some foreign colleagues, so he brought German strawberry jam and a chocolate bar. As for Mark, as an artist he depends only on inspiration. It undoubtedly visited him, because I received a wonderful work “Christmas” as a gift, which I hung up today. In addition, they gave me the book that I dreamed of and that I was so unsuccessfully looking for for you - “The Man at the Desk” by Lydia Ginzburg. And I am so lucky! — I bought a collection of Trifonov’s works as a gift for Yura: it must have been someone from the writer’s house who brought it to the neighboring second-hand bookstore, because I had never even seen this publication.

The future of the Academy is no more clear than the future of the CIS. What they have in common is that both monsters have no budget. After a long break, Leninka finally opened. By the way, all the light bulbs were stolen from the reading rooms - including the professor's room. Alyosha specially came to the information room during the day - and returned home: even the upper chandelier there was slightly “stripped.” It is probably more important to write about the fact that the special storage facility has been practically liquidated - so that those who wish can read either Trotsky or Bukharin. But for some reason I don’t want to. In general, I still read a lot, but I suddenly noticed that I hardly read poetry and don’t listen to music at all at home. But all my life, when I sat down at the table in the morning, I turned on the record player. Even in the most difficult times.

Thanks again for Beardsley! Write!

PS Just think that perestroika has lasted longer than the war, even counting since 1987!

PPS dated December 22, 2008

The word perestroika has become an archaism. Children born that year entered universities. We are heated. I'm listening to music again - now using a computer. The day after tomorrow is Christmas Eve...