Memories of Alnwick
Timothy Madsen ’84, Good Thunder, Minn., Alnwick
1981-82
As I was contemplating what I would write for my story,
it struck me that it would be impossible to distill an entire
school year to one story and actually do justice to the
memories of three-quarters of a year—even if it was
twenty-five years ago. Two stories come to mind immediately
because the two instances are emblazoned in my mind so vividly
and have affected me all these years. But then, other memories
come flooding back about the people present then: Mom and
Dad Roy, my classmates, and my tutors. Stories abound about
each and every one. But I will try to concentrate on the
two:
Sleeping In The Moat
I had borrowed a recently released cassette of a favorite
band from a friend and classmate, but had not been able
to listen to it yet. So one night I collected one of the
warm, wool blankets from the bed, a player with headphones,
and the tape to go out into the Castle Bailey (the outer
courtyard between curtain wall surrounding the entire castle
grounds and the Keep which is the main tower where the Duke
and his family resided.) I folded the blanket so that I
could climb inside to keep warm and put it in the middle
of the shallow moat under the Keep. The whole courtyard
was dry and neatly trimmed, including the moat, as it was
not really used for protection any more. It must have been
around midnight, but the stars were bright enough to see
the courtyard around me. I remember feeling very small surrounded
by the big expanse of sky partially eclipsed by the monstrous
Keep above me—a perfect setting for music.
Russian Woman
On one of the many excursions during breaks, a few of us
had the opportunity to travel as a troupe to see the people
and sites in Russia. The trip was booked via a travel agency
based in London, so when we arrived in Moscow, our guide
was expecting to meet British citizens—not Americans.
We created quite a stir as our selected guide might not
have been qualified to be our guide if he/she was not solid
enough in the Party. Whoever would be our guide would have
been essentially responsible for making sure we didn't try
to make converts of anyone. Our trip consisted of scheduled
visits to three cities: Moscow, Leningrad, and Tallinn.
As a group, we met with young people about our own age to
try to learn what it is like to be Russian. All of the people
that we were able to meet were very guarded about their
beliefs, but were able to converse very well.
We saw beautiful sites for quite a few days until one night
my wife took ill. I found it impossible to talk to the people
at the front desk of the hotel we were in at Leningrad.
Since they could not understand me any better, a doctor
was called. It was decided to take her to the hospital.
An ambulance was dispatched to pick her up. The ambulance
consisted of a white panel truck with frosted glass windows
and red crosses painted on the sides. It had a military-style,
canvas cot bolted to the floor and no other seating in the
back. The crew consisted of the driver only. And we had
to go pick up the doctor who lived further from the hospital
than the hotel. I sat on one of the wheel wells on the side
of the bed of the truck. My wife was strapped to the cot
with something like a seat belt, but certainly was far from
comfortable. We were not going very fast as we were in town,
but would estimate to be going about forty miles per hour
with sirens blaring the whole way. The driver did not know
the way very well and about half of the way to the doctor's
home, we had the experience of flying over a set of railroad
tracks at full tilt. The tracks were on a berm as they often
are in the US, so we took to the air for a moment and everything
that was not bolted or belted down became airborne—including
myself. The crewman yelled back something I took as an apology
or to find out if we were alright. He had the most frightened
look on his face which I saw in the rear-view mirror, but
it quickly dissipated when I tried to tell him we were alright.
When we arrived at the doctor's home, the doctor was waiting
at the curb. After the doctor got in, we swung around and
headed back the way we came. This time we slowed way down
for the tracks.
We finally arrived at the hospital to find that the doctor
was the only one that could speak any English at all. And
he kept apologizing for not knowing it very well. So a translator
was called in on short notice to help. She was very nice
and explained well what the doctor was trying to say. My
wife needed emergency surgery to remove her appendix which
was apparently about to rupture. My wife was wheeled away
with her hands clutching the hands of her translator. I
was left alone to fend for myself in the lobby. After a
long while the translator came out to tell me that everything
went well and my wife was fine. Apparently, my wife made
her promise not to leave her side, so she went along into
surgery, too. My wife was still sedated and would not wake
for hours, so I was to be sent back to the hotel. Prior
to my leaving, the translator made a map for me with labels
on the prominent landmarks between the hotel and the hospital
so that I could get back later. I could not read it, but
knew enough about Russian to be able to sound out the names
and words. I did not know what the words meant, but could
pronounce them. Because the transit system was not running
at that time of night, I think that someone from the hotel
came and got me. I arrived back at the hotel just a little
late for breakfast. I did not feel hungry — just very
tired. My wife's sister was also with us on the trip. She
was very frightened as she had been looking for her sister
all morning and could not find either one of us. She was
very relieved to find out everyone and everything was going
to be alright. But then I found out that I was to travel
with the rest of the group which was leaving for Tallinn.
I told my guide that I might as well go back to disappear
in the US now as I would never have been forgiven for leaving
her there. After many minutes of frantic debate, the hotel
took "responsibility" for me and I was allowed
to stay in Leningrad while the others went on to Tallinn.
When it came time later that morning to go back to the
hospital, I took my map I could not read and headed out.
I knew that I would need to catch a bus and ride it to the
subway station. From there, one of the subway stops was
right at the hospital. But as I was walking along the crowded,
bustling sidewalk, none of the markings on the map looked
familiar at all. I was walking in what I thought was the
right way, but I could not be sure. I wasn't lost, but I
did not know where I was, either. I paused on the sidewalk
to look around and get my bearings. Out of the crowd, a
short, round, elderly woman approached me. I do not know
what she said to me, but she could tell I needed help. She
took a look at my map I was holding tightly like a life-line.
In an instant, she held up two fingers and shook them in
the direction I had been going. "DO DO," she said.
Then with the same two fingers, she shook them left. "DA
DA," she said. Then just as quickly as she appeared,
she vanished into the crowd. Two blocks up and two block
left I was at the bus stop. A flood of emotion came over
me when I realized what the woman had done for me. I found
out then and have known for a long time that the Russian
people are not my enemy. Governments posture about the best
way to be run, and my viewpoint is biased too heavily towards
Capitalism to be converted to Communism or Socialism, but
that woman on the sidewalk, who did not know where I was
from or where I was going, performed an intensely human
act of kindness which far overrules the chains of any government.
I did not get a chance to ask her, but I know in my heart
that she comes from Minnesota. And I hope that I can live
up to her humanness.
I guess you can tell that everything did come out alright
and the rest of the trip was not as harrowing. My wife was
released from the hospital in a week so that we could catch
up with the group back in Moscow. I could tell much more
about the hospital and the hotel, but that would be another
story.
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