How I Died and Then Came Back, A mix-up leads to a surreal ‘resurrection’ celebration and new life perspective.
In the summer of 1983, I was working at the UN Secretariat in New York and spent the last day of my summer vacation at my family’s cabin in the countryside of upstate New York. We had secured tickets to a much-anticipated show that evening, so I decided to call a good friend to plan a meet-up next summer. His response was odd, asking where I was calling from. I assured him I was in New York, confused by his reaction. Later, a colleague from New York tried to reach me, but my wife, in a hurry to get to the show, told her we couldn’t talk and hung up.
The next day, as we landed at JFK, I noticed fellow Soviets on the flight giving me strange looks, which I ignored. At our apartment in Riverdale, Bronx, my wife ran into a neighbor who, unexpectedly, expressed condolences. Confused, my wife brushed it off, thinking it was about a minor car accident. When I called a friend to catch up, he asked again where I was. He soon arrived with vodka and the shocking news: I had been reported dead in New York. Apparently, a mix-up involving another Soviet with a similar name had led to my “death” being announced.
The confusion led to an impromptu celebration among friends, who were thrilled to see me “resurrected.” The incident revealed that people had started to believe I was calling from beyond, and they seemed to think I wasn’t fully “back to life.” My wife was initially perceived as cold-hearted for dismissing the condolences. According to an old Russian saying, those rumored dead but still alive are destined for long lives. The outcome of that belief remains to be seen.
