He was falling asleep in a comfortable
chair when Prince Igor and the Polovtsian
Dances by Borodin started to dance in his
head and he was transported back to when
he was a high school student listening to
the music on the stereo his father had built
from individual components. It was fall
and he was home after school. He could
smell dinner cooking in the kitchen. Soon
he would turn off the stereo when his mother
called him to dinner over the singing of the
maidens’ chorus. The man felt warm and
wonderful in the remembrance of a good
time in his life. He rose from the chair,
looked at his wife and sang, “Take my hand,
I’m a stranger in paradise,” and remembered
that was a line from Kismet not Prince Igor
even if it was the same music. That’s okay,
he thought. He doesn’t know Russian. And
then he spoke to her in his best Russian
accent, “Trust me, daahhlink; I’m a very
nice Russian (rolling the r) spy.” She said,
tongue in cheek, “It’s time for dinner, Boris.”