Sent! Sent! Sent!

Everything that was "in house" for translation over the past couple of days has been sent, but not before I received a call from a new client who has since sent me some work.

This is both a blessing (we need the money) and a curse (I'll need to spend more time at the store - and less time translating - once Galina leaves for Houston). But I'll take what I can get, for now. Too, I suspect that Feht has been helping me, calling around to his vast network of contacts and recommending me. He is a good friend.

The Dagestan article took me to references that, frankly, I'd never used before. A long time ago, I bought a two-volume paperback set called The Anchor Atlas of World History. Each left-hand page displays various historical maps depicting borders, battles, trade routes, and what-have-you, while the facing pages provide a terse historical summary of those maps. The set wasn't too helpful in helping figure out what the heck "Caucasian Albania" was, but it did answer some questions when it came to the spread of Islam through the region.

Another reference that has been gathering dust on my shelf was Dal's "Explanatory Dictionary of the Living Great Russian Language," from 1882, which was re-re-republished in 1998. It's not an easy read, since the orthography has changed significantly since the late 19th century, and it's a monolingual dictionary, but I was able to find some archaic terms in the Dal that did not make the cut in more contemporary dictionaries, monolingual or otherwise.

The next step is to create and send invoices for all this work I've been doing, and then start in on the documents that arrived a few minutes ago. But first, I've got to go shower and shave and visit the store.

Cheers...

What gives?

Stopping by the shop today to drop off some things, I noticed that the flashing light associated with the "front" computer (Alice) on the switch had stopped flashing, and the back computer (Borg) indicated that it could see Alice and access the latter's drives.

I don't doubt that the situation will change tomorrow, which may be a good time to call LinkSys tech support, as the hordes of weekday 9-to-5 types will probably be home sunning themselves, giving me an opportunity to take advantage of the company's 24/7 support. My call yesterday was answered by a very efficient-sounding young woman who took my number and said someone would call back.

They might've, or might not've. I don't know... What I do know is that I could not sit by the phone to wait for a reply.

Sheesh.

Cheers...

On this day...

Today marks the 60th anniversary of Germany's invasion of Soviet Russia. On June 22, 1941, German military units opened up what became known as "the Eastern Front." Over the next few years, up to the surrender of Germany in May 1945, the losses in this campaign would turn out to be staggering, on both sides.

As an American, I had learned about "World War II" in school and on television. My dad used to watch the CBS show The Twentieth Century every Sunday afternoon, which featured war footage, week after week. (Though I watched the show willingly, I eventually developed a childhood phobia about planes flying overhead; I kept imagining bomb-bay doors opening up and being on the receiving end of a stick of blockbusters... but I digress...)

We in the West called the conflict "World War II"; the Russians called it "The Great Patriotic War."

In the end, something like 26 million inhabitants of the Soviet Union died... that's around 15% of the overall population (or about 1 in 6 people).


Hitler, like Napoleon before him, tried hard to subdue the great land mass of Russia. He failed. The photo above was taken during my first trip to the Soviet Union, a long time ago. It is a monument to the defenders of Moscow, and depicts bigger-than-life "tank traps" that were used to help slow down and eventually stop the German advance. The memorial, which is along the road from Moscow out to Sheremetevo airport, is supposed to mark the spot where the city's defenders stopped the invaders.

And how can man die better
  Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
  And the temples of his Gods,

      -- Lord Macaulay
          Horatius

(Yes, I know, the Soviets were atheists, but to help defeat the Nazis, Joe Stalin even allowed the resurrection, somewhat, of the Orthodox Church.)

In my early trips to the USSR, I remember listening to radio programs devoted to reuniting families torn apart by a war that had been over for nearly 40 years. I cannot reconstruct any of the announcements, but even then, with my formative Russian, they were heart-grabbing pleas on behalf of people grown old who were still, after so many years, trying to find their loved ones.

My stretcher is one scarlet stain,
And as I tries to scrape it clean,
I tell you wot--I'm sick with pain
For all I've 'eard, for all I've seen;
Around me is the 'ellish night,
And as the war's red rim I trace,
I wonder if in 'Eaven's height,
Our God don't turn away 'Is face.

    I don't care 'oose the Crime may be;
    I 'olds no brief for kin or clan;
    I 'ymns no 'ate: I only see
    As man destroys his fellow man;
    I waves no flag: I only know,
    As 'ere beside the dead I wait,
    A million 'earts is weighed with woe,
    A million 'omes is desolate.

In drippin' darkness, far and near,
All night I've sought them woeful ones.
Dawn shudders up and still I 'ear
The crimson chorus of the guns.
Look! like a ball of blood the sun
'Angs o'er the scene of wrath and wrong...
"Quick! Stretcher-bearers on the run!"
O Prince of Peace! 'Ow long, 'ow long?

      -- Robert W. Service
          The Stretcher-Bearer

Requiescat in pace.

Cheers...