Na Zdorovie

Na Zdorovie



Na Zdorovie, my Father shouted and broke his glass on the side walk, Na Zdorovie the rest of them shouted, gulping down the liquor and slamming the glasses on the sidewalk. It’s a Russian custom usually after finishing a glass of vodka then smashing the glass against a fire place as you shout, Na Zdorovie! which translates to cheers, salud and for your health. This was Woonsocket a small city at the top of the little state of Rhode Island they were not used to this sort of rowdiness and public display especially on Thanksgivining at the annual parade down Main Street. They were standing out side of a bar called, “Chicks” a local watering hole that my aunt and uncle would frequent to imbibe their favorite liquor. The perps were my Mom, Jean my dad, Mikhail, aunt Cybil and her husband Petu. Auntie Cybil and uncle, and my mom could really sock it down and this day was no different, however my dad was not a big drinker sort of a tea teetotaler who had too many that day and the one who started the entire ruckus. Chick the propiter shook it off and started to sweep up the glass it wasn’t much any way the glasses were very small.



All would have been over except for a man in the crowd who took offence to the spectacle of the smashing glasses on the side walk. Words were thrown back and forth and before any one could walk away a whole army of police in their squad cars, tires squealing, sirens waling sliding to a stop like it was a bank robbery or some other horrible crime. Police were every where standing around every one involved in the fray. I can remember my uncle talking to the police, or more like yelling at them to muge the mud, muge the mud, translation, eat some s***. I was ten years old my sister Cathy was fourteen they put all four of the adults in a squad car and drove them off to the hoosegow. I was put in a cab sent to my other aunt’s house along with my cousin Elvis. My sister just disappeared I didn’t know where she went.



The cab arrived at the big old gray house on Jillison ave, home of my mothers mom and my aunt “C” oh my, every one was in for it now. Aunt “C” was a very stern religious women living with her husband and seven kids. We were grilled, “where were our parental units?” “What happened”? “Where was my sister”? I think it was me who broke down and it all burst out all at once like a rotten tomato. The drinks, the shower of glass against the cement sidewalk, the police, the yelling the crying the missing sister. When the foursome arrived home some time later it was aunt, “C” who was doing the talking and scolding, how could you do such a thing, (she was speaking in French so I didn’t get much of the conversation) but I could tell by the tone of her voice. My mom was crying, my aunt Cybil was crying I was crying because some one said I was a tattle tale. My sister was still missing. Later on my aunt Cybil read me the riot act and  I guess I was a tattle tale I was only ten years old I hadn’t learned not to tell stories yet I guess I couldn’t keep a secret.



I’m told my aunt, “C” didn’t talk to my mom for a long, long time after the glass busting incident on main street and my sister getting lost. I guess my mom had to do her penance or an act of contrition and get back in favor with the big, “C”. She must have because that is where we kids spent some of our summers in the big old gray house. My sister says she laughed but then was scared when the glasses flew and just wanted to escape the whole fiasco, she walked around and got very lost but some how found her way to grandma Cossacks house on Blackstone street. My sister didn’t tell my grandma about what happened and our parents were glad of that. My sister was mad at my parents for days until my dad had a talk with her and they worked it out.  There were other parades and other drinking parties always the parties and drinking. Later on I acquired a drinking problem and I would smash glasses just like that day on Main Street in that little city of Woonsocket.