Watching this Clint Eastwood / Meryl Streep movie with my son. I forgot how good it is. I recall leaving my first wife Christine for the Russian goddess I perceived, Svetlana Borisovna. And unlike that moment in the film when Francesca grabs the truck's door handle, which if turned, would change her life, and she relents, stays with husband Richard and their two teen children, I pulled the handle, opened the door, crossed an ocean, for a girl I knew not, but for in the sense most would describe as physical, landed in Siberia, and convinced her to join me. That was 1997, over 20 years ago. We have a son, now 19, and all that I perhaps ever wanted in a son. And Svetlana, I knew she didn't love me, not as I loved her. Men and women are perhaps different in this regard, of that I am not sure, my data set too small to matter. I recall thinking if she just got to know me she would love me. Perhaps she does as she can; we grew up so differently, me ...
