VEROTCHKA

Verotchka

It Ain't Me, Babe Bob Dylan's song comes to mind after reading this story.

Verotchka has all the elements I love in a Chekhov story.

The intellectual young man -- who is trying to make something of his life -- a bit naive when it comes to women -- and suddenly confronted by his dreams -- his hopes and finding nothing inside -- and wondering why?

And this is really a story of memory -- how do we preserve the past -- the present -- life keeps moving on and what we have this moment fades and where does it go -- like the cranes Chekhov describes -- they disappear into the wind and what's left?

It's also a story of knowing yourself -- wanting to find out why you are who you are -- and this story also gets you so involved you want to jump inside -- you want to say hold up -- let me talk to Ivan Alexeyitch for one moment.

"My man, Ivan -- what's going on over here? You got a beautiful girl declaring her love for you. Don't blow this! I know you think too much -- you might not be able to handle this right now -- but look at her she's beautiful -- you feel good with her -- you'll never find someone like her -- your whole life you'll be searching for her and she's right here -- grab her -- grab the moment -- I don't care what's happened before -- kiss her -- stroke her hair -- wipe her tears -- do something -- do something now!"

But of course -- I can't jump in -- the moment has passed and Ivan Alexeyitch lives without his Verotchka.

I also like the way the story is presented from Ivan Alexeyitch's perspective -- so we see Verotchka -- but we don't really see her -- and we assume she's beautiful -- but we also are aware how after she confesses her love to him -- she changes and seems shorter -- less beautiful.

Love stories are timeless.

And so is the idea of premature old age -- how some of us for whatever reason resort to inhabiting a life where we are shut off from passion -- from happiness -- from living -- and we do it to ourselves -- and mostly we never recover -- we wander through life observing -- like watching others dining and carousing through a pane of glass -- separated from the noise and the chaos and the joy -- too afraid to crash through and be a part of the experience.

To all of us: Carpe diem.