Glass half full

By Tamara

Recently, I went to a stand-up show by Anton Tymoshenko, a well-known Ukrainian comedian. He’s one of my favorites because he has an incredible way with words. He turns stand-up into an art form, especially if you understand how humour works and how jokes are constructed.

There were a few things on my mind as I was heading to the show.

First of all, would I even get to watch it?

You see, in Ivano-Frankivsk, everyone rushes to a bomb shelter whenever there’s an air raid alert. I still find this strange because in Zaporizhzhia, my home city, a city right on the front line, people don’t really do that. It’s an interesting paradox: the farther people live from the front line, the more afraid they seem to be.

When we got into the concert hall, it was freezing.

I remembered how Ukrainian concert halls used to be so warm that you could show up in a linen dress or a beautiful embroidered Ukrainian shirt just to show it off. Now, everyone was sitting there wearing winter jackets. In October.

As you probably know, Ukraine is having serious problems with heating.

I’m not telling you this to complain. It just made me think about how many people don’t realize all the tiny details of everyday life that change during times like these. Things you wouldn’t even think about until one day you notice they’re gone.

Anton had plenty of hilarious jokes, but there’s one I really want to retell.

“Many people think Ukrainians are very positive, but that’s not actually true. What does being positive even mean? It’s when you look at a glass and say it’s half full. Being negative is when you say it’s half empty.

But if a Ukrainian looks at that glass, they won’t say whether it’s half full or half empty. They’ll say, ‘Are you out of your mind?! Don’t drink that! Tomorrow’s gonna be worse! Save it for tomorrow!’

So Ukrainians aren’t positive or negative. They just know that tomorrow everything will be even more fucked up. That’s why you have to enjoy whatever you have today, because tomorrow there might be a nuclear bomb or something even worse.”

Of course, it’s hilarious.

But it’s also incredibly sad.

Because it makes you wonder: what else am I going to lose tomorrow?

And by the way, here’s my water. 😉

Editor’s Note: You can’t send Tamara water or heat or a clear sky. But you can warm her heart by writing postcard messages of support for her Defenders. All those brothers and sisters that she has at the front lines, working very hard in terrible conditions to keep Tamara and everyone else in Ukraine as safe as possible.

Tell others about this project. Ask family and friends to write cards. Involve your children and grandchildren. Defenders especially value postcards with drawings from children.

Need cards? Write to us at postcardstothefront.canada@gmail.com. FREE!

Not sure how to get started? Check our “How to” page, and our Ukrainian phrases page. Want to organize a group of family, friends or others to write postcards? We have a page with suggestions about How to Run a Postcard-Writing Workshop.

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