God Bless Uzbekistan

My folks were sitting out on the front porch in the Indian Summer evening when I got up the courage to approach them. Did I have a speech prepared, I don't really remember, but I do recall being determined not to take "no" for an answer. Little did I know that this conversation would later change my life in a way I could never have made up if I tried.

"I'm going to go to the Soviet Union this year." Mind you, this was 1990 and Gorbechev was still in power. "I need to see what the Evil Empire."

The money I needed to go had been set aside for a car, but there would always be cars. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I braced myself for battle.

"Okay, but it's gonna be cold."

Two months later I was standing in the middle of Registan Square in the center of Samarkand, Uzbekistan having my picture taken by my Intourist guide Dmitri. I was literally half-way around the world, trodding the same wind-swept steppes as Tamerlane in a city over a thousand years old. I was exploring the far flung corners of the Soviet Empire. Tashkent, Dushanbe, Shakhrisabz. Twelve time zones from home. Little did I know that this small muslim nation at the foothills of the Himalaya mountains would determine my future.

The years after my adventures in Russia were aimless and without purpose. Jobs and acquaintances became a blur. My life lacked purpose and direction. I was burned out from the frenetic world of restaurants and was seeking a change. Tired of working nights, I found a new home at Starbucks. This was before it became the over-zealous McDonald's of the coffee world. Back then it was a smaller company that had just expanded into the Chicago market, still committed to quality and the well-being of it's employees. Finding my niche, I threw myself into it and began to find happiness.

It did not take me long to move up and gain recognition. I became a management trainer taking over a store that held a regional classroom facility. Although I was on a fast-track up, I remained just as cocky and arrogant as ever.

The management trainers were summoned to a certification meeting at the corporate headquarters downtown. Yawn. Another boring meeting. And not being too keen on one of the heads of HR who would be running the meeting, I was less than thrilled to waste this day.

It was the fishnet stockings that made me notice her. Pretty bold, I thought.

We went around the table telling the group an interesting tidbit about ourselves. Remember, the world revolves around me so I had very little interest in the banalities of others. But then...

"I was with Doctors Without Borders in Uzbekistan."

My head shot up, my ears burned, my eyes wheeled on fish-net stockings. I noticed her with more focus now. Suede skirt. Knee-high leather boots. Big turquoise jewelry. Corn-silk hair. Clear emerald eyes. Curves. Incredible curves. Tingly-climbing-the-rope-in-gym-class curves.
My eyes stayed on her as we continued around the room. When it was my turn I focused on her. I, too, had been to Uzbekistan. Something else about F Scott Fitzgerald, blah blah blah. But what I said I was saying directly to her.

We were given a break. Needing some air I followed the majority of the group down the elevators to the front plaza. A tap on the shoulder.

"F Scott, huh?"

"Uzbekistan, really?"

How much was I a self-absorbed jack-ass in those days? I have no recollection of her performing a tasting of coffee prior to the start of the meeting. Yet I eagerly followed her to the kitchen once we were dismissed offering to help her clean up. I walked her to her car, six blocks out of my way. Discovering I lived close to the store she ran, I was invited to stop by for it's grand opening.
Not only did I show up, I stayed for hours, chatting with her Napoleon-esque district manager, patiently waiting for her to end her shift. A drink? Sure.

It was our first date. That night I fell in love with her walk. We drank black martinis. We had our first kiss.

Today, we celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary. We have lived in many cities across this country. We each have fond memories of favorite places. She misses New Orleans, I long for the gentility of Georgia. But we will both always hang our hearts in Uzbekistan.


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