My Lukasa Story 

 
● When still in Ukraine, my grandfather on my mother’s side, who I call Dedushka, 
had a good friend named Ivan Vasiliepetroskolov. I’ll just refer to him as Ivan. 
Ivan and my grandfather spent nearly every second of their time together. They 
were the best of friends.  
● My grandfather was about 14 and Ivan 18 at the time, so Ivan was a bit older.  
● And they both were Jewish and knew so, but they never really discussed it. 
● One day, when right outside the town school, three Ukrainian students around 
Ivan’s age decided to prove to everyone at school that he was, in fact, Jewish.  
● They forced him to the ground, threw a couple of punches, and stripped him of 
his clothes. 
● Pretty soon, he was completely naked and everyone could see he was 
circumcised. 
● My grandfather remained an onlooker despite himself. He was dazed, 
confounded as to what he should do. 
● The bulkiest of the three then clenched his already blue and purple fist and 
bashed it in Ivan’s disfigured face one last time. 
● He spat on him, shouted “kike,” and left with his accomplices. 
● My grandfather rushed over to Ivan, who howled, “Astav menya, predatel!” 
“Leave me alone, you traitor!”  
● My grandfather took one last look at Ivan and ran home.  
● He never told his parents, or anyone as a matter of fact, what had happened that 
day. 
● At school, he refrained from ever even bumping into Ivan. He never spoke to 
him, nor Ivan to him.  
● My grandfather spent the rest of his time in Ukraine, as well as in Belarus later 
on, doing everything he could to conceal his identity, to convince others he 
wasn’t Jewish. Not keeping kosher, avoiding Torah, abandoning his 
grandparents’ observant traditions, setting aside his Judaism.  
● 30 years later, my grandfather moved to America with his mother, wife, and 
children, and got a job as a civil engineer.  
● One day, when at work, the computer in his department malfunctioned. And this 
was 1983, so computers weren’t so abundant - there were three departments in 
the firm, one computer per department.  
● So, my grandfather ran over to the neighboring department and got to work on 
their computer.  
● He minded his own business and got his work done.  
● But then, out of nowhere, the department manager came up behind him and 
tapped on his shoulder.  
● My grandfather turned his head and just stared.  
● The man, after some 10 seconds of just staring back, then asked, “What are you 
doing here?”  
● My grandfather responded, “Why? What’s the problem?” 
● The man retorted, “I hate all you Russians, especially Jews.”  
● My grandfather had immigrated from the Soviet Union to escape anti-semitism. 
Not to experience even more of it.  
● So, with his decent knowledge of American swears, he mustered up all the ones 
he could think of and spat them out at the man.  
● My grandfather was astounded by what he had just done and convinced he would 
lose his job.  
● Yet, quite the opposite occurred. 
● The following morning, the same manager came to his department, tapped him 
on his shoulder once more, and just smiled. 
● For the remainder of his lengthy career there, my grandfather was always first in 
line for the computer. 
● This manager became a friend, having discovered a newfound respect for my 
grandfather, who had stood up for what was right. 
● More than 30 years later, they’re still in touch. 
● Every time I visit my grandfather in Nebraska now, he reminds me of this - of his 
standing his ground and showing his pride in Judaism and how that’s always the 
right thing to do.