Shortly after my sister was born and about nine months before my parents left the USSR, my dad’s best friend, Misha, took a train to Moscow, stood in line for seven hours, and purchased six bananas. He kept three for his family and gave three to my parents, a gift my parents continue to say they will never be able to repay.
My parents first stop after leaving the Soviet Union was Austria. They lived above a small market. My dad says that one day, while looking out the window, he spots a school girl walk into the store and walk out with a single banana. Intrigued, he decided to try the same. He walked into the store, tore off a single banana from a bunch, and went to pay. The store owner took a few coins, my dad stepped outside, and then he ate the banana. Giddy with joy, he repeated this same process a dozen times until he couldn’t eat any more bananas. That day he had eaten more bananas than he had in his 27 years in the USSR.