Word: volodya
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...drove to Uvarovo, the village of my youth that had since turned into a decent-sized city of some 50,000. I discovered that the second secretary of the city party committee was Vladimir Selyugin, an old childhood friend. When I last saw Volodya, he had been working as an agrotechnical engineer. Why had he suddenly turned up on the committee? He told me that he was tired of Uvarovo being run by transients. He had grown up here, worked here and had no intention of going anywhere else...
Moscow Beginners was started in 1987 by the Rev. J.W. Canty, an Episcopal priest from New York City who came to Moscow in 1985 to help lay the groundwork for the group. Meanwhile, Volodya, 36, a machinist, had heard about A.A. on a Canadian radio broadcast and had written to A.A. headquarters in New York, which in turn informed Canty that he had a taker in Moscow. The group's first session, held in a hotel room across from the Kremlin, was attended by Volodya and two visiting American members of A.A. Membership grew slowly, largely because the group...
...Volodya, 30, a small-town schoolteacher in a black jacket and black hat, riding a half-empty bus: "Real change means turning things upside down, and that will never happen. Lenin set the country in motion, and other drivers have stepped in to take his place, but they are all going down the same road and cannot change that. What does it concern the man in the street who is the latest General Secretary? It isn't we who choose them. So why get interested? When I was 20, I was involved in politics. Now I can take...
...freedom that spawned the Western youth culture in the first place. Their lack of interest in politics was evident last week in the absence of young faces in the procession to bid farewell to Yuri Andropov. "What goes on in the leadership is remote from our lives," said Volodya, 26, an engineer. "Besides, nobody asks our opinion...
...sweet man, with more taste and savoir faire than anyone I'll ever meet, but he could never refer to anyone without calling him "my dear friend." "My dear friend Phyllis Schlafly just dropped in," he once told me. Another time--this was with John Updike at the Algonquin--Volodya turned to me and, with his mouth still full of mashed potatoes, whispered into my ear, "Reminds me of the way my very, very, very dear friend Rusty Staub cooks...