Russia - Then and Now

Many years ago, while on the maiden voyage of my father's ship, The Jessica Parker, a storm developed so quickly that it was known as the Ten Second Storm. The size and magnitude of the storm was so great that to this day many sailors still refer to it as the Obamatrix Effect. No one really knows how such a storm develops or what exactly produces such storms but the devastation lingers for years and years. My father, after spending his children's college funds set aside by their loving and rich uncle Heinrich to construct and man The Jessica Parker, felt beaten and weathered by the Ten Second Storm. I remember him saying "Yeah, it was only ten seconds for that storm to develop but that was a sea state 12 I felt." My father was always using nautical terms but he did come by it naturally. While traversing the Atlantic many years ago my grandparents were on deck looking out at the horizon when my father decided to look out the railing on the port side of the ship. My father, while obtuse in size, was rather short for his age and sub-sequentially fell through the railing and was lost at sea for 5 years. After the conclusion of the week-long search that began the next day (my grandparents were so in love with the sea that they had no idea that my father went overboard until a ship-wide search revealed the truth), all hope was lost on ever finding my father. It would not be for another five years that word would come to my grandparents that their only son was found by a freighter while visiting a port in Hong Kong. Apparently a family of walruses had rescued my father and brought him safely to that small town. My father is still fluent in Mandarin and tells us of his past childhood adventures in Hong Kong. He developed a love for raw fish and we missed many meals while my father dined on those fish carcasses. To be honest it may be the most revolting vision I can remember. As I said before The Ten Second Storm was a monstrous storm that nearly took the life of my father. For years afterward, nightmares would wake my father and this would wake my mother who still liked to do the occasional sleepover after the two divorced on my second birthday. He would scream "The storm!! The storm!! Where did she come from?" And I could hear hear my mother scream back at him "You're a fool Tom Jones. You know I'm your biggest fan." It was always so confusing at breakfast time. My father would be soaked in sweat from the night terrors and my mother would leave before I even had the chance to make her a waffle or anything. After my sister and I were old enough to buy train tickets we left my father and ventured out into the world we had become so frightened of. My father always spoke of rebuilding the Jessica Parker but we knew it was only talk from a man still fighting his old demons. But one day my mother, on another one of her sleepovers, asked us kids if we were worried about our father. "No Mother", my sister said, "He's just an old fool living the dream." My sister was never one with a complete grasp of reality but many blame this on being conceived the night of the Ten Second Storm. My mother would just sigh and throw her piece of toast at my sister. This was really not a problem for my sister because that's really all she wanted. Just a little attention from mom. My father called us a week after we left on that train bound to Russia. "Can you put your sister on the phone?" I laughed at him because she was so big I knew if she sat on the phone it would crack even with the Gorilla Glass screen. He would yell anytime I told him that. My grandparents would always remind us that my father used to have a deep, honking type laugh before he endured the Ten Second Storm but afterwards they never did remember hearing him laugh at anything. They said he developed that laugh after his rescue by the walruses and it was the most annoying noise they had ever heard. My grandparents were blunt people by most people's standards. "Sarah, where are you two?", he asked her. "We're headed to see our uncle in Russia", she said. As she finished telling him she handed me the phone. "What did he say?", I asked. "Bring back some salmon if you can remember, you fat cow." My father was always referring to his life with the walruses in subtle ways like that. I knew my sister understood but I could see the hurt in her eyes. For many years afterward, even with the apologetic's from my uncle for my father's behavior, my sister never really forgave our father and mother for the childhood in which we had been raised. But we will always have the memories of my father running around the house early in the morning yelling about the storm. Some memories will always put one in convulsions of laughter so uncontrolled the milk will always shoot out one's nose. And mother, if she was there that morning, would always remind us that Tom Jones would always be a fool for not loving her. My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.