“A Time to Forgive”: One Georgian Jew’s Advice for Living a Good Life

Mikhail Kalamkarov once spent his life in constant motion. From his boyhood in the city streets to his career in the railroad industry, he embraced adventure and hard work. Mikhail, 76, is now homebound and alone — but he knows he hasn’t been abandoned by his global Jewish family. When he lost everything, the JDC-supported Hesed Eliyahu social service center in Mikhail’s hometown of Tbilisi, Georgia, stepped in to care for him. 

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, Mikhail reflects on the journey that brought him here, JDC’s vital assistance, and the single-most important ingredient to living a good life. 

I never was a couch potato. My elder brother stayed at home and was a smart kid, but I loved to play soccer and shoot dice with the boys. I’d go outside whenever I could and mess around. 

My adventures led me to the Jewish community here in Tbilisi. I used to hang out at the synagogue with other Georgian Jewish guys. I spent a lot of time observing Jewish traditions there. My favorite holiday was Chanukah. I can still remember the festivities, even now. 

My father was a military officer. He cared for us a lot. When he was the head of a military tailor shop in town, he was successful and happy. Then my mother passed away, and he was left all alone.

I followed his lead, enlisting in the Soviet army and serving three years in the railway battalion. This work suited my temperament; it was physically intensive and I never stayed in one place. I went to Volgograd and Stalingrad, as they were called then. All day, every day, I’d lug the ballast — the gravel that railroad tracks are laid on — and smash it down with a jackhammer. I was never gentle and I worked nonstop. 

My efforts paid off. I was promoted from junior to senior lieutenant. As a mark of my success, I loved wearing black, formal clothes and I sported a beard and small mustache. Life was good. 

Then it all collapsed. The 1990s were a horrible time here in Georgia — I shudder to remember it. The Soviet Union had just disintegrated, and with it, the world we’d taken for granted. 

People lived in dire poverty. We had no electricity, nothing. People used firewood to cook huge pots of food. I had a small cast-iron stove and made tea or food on it. My father would bring firewood and we’d cut it with a huge saw.  

Fires burned all around us. There was smoke everywhere. It was a nightmare. 

So much has changed for me since that awful decade, and that’s thanks to JDC. I worked my entire life — like I said, I wasn’t a slacker — but my pension now is just $2.50/day. No one can survive on that. 

JDC helps me with everything. They provide food, help with utilities, and they’ve even made repairs to my apartment, which is old and basically dilapidated.

They also paired me with my lovely homecare worker, Katyushka.

Katyushka is kind and sincere. Sure, I could talk to my brother and his wife, but they’re also old and sick. But Katyuskha, I consider her a sister — I can share everything with her.  She gives me advice and helps with cleaning, washing, and doing laundry. She also brings me peaches, cottage cheese, and a special amaranth-grain bread (I can’t eat white bread). 

She’s made of gold, and I simply wouldn’t survive without her.  

Three times a week, JDC also brings me food, part of their Meals on Wheels program. This includes nutritious staples — like borscht, buckwheat, various fruits, and more. They also provide emotional sustenance through JDC’s JOINTECH initiative. JOINTECH allows me to have a specially-designed smartphone that connects me, and so many other Jewish seniors, to a wide array of vibrant online programming. 

Global news and history has always been a passion of mine. With my JDC smartphone, I can learn about Israel and engage in rich discussions about current events. My body stays fit, too, with the exercise class conducted at Hesed Eliyahu. Not only that, but if there’s ever an emergency, I can call Katyushka. In short, it has everything I need — and now I know I’ll never be alone. 

I can’t really walk anymore — my legs fail me — nor can I go out or play soccer as I used to enjoy doing. I can only go down to the garden. I sit there and watch Katyushka water the flowers. 

What else can I do? I’ve always been on the move. But these days, it’s time to settle down.

It’s also time to forgive. On the wall in my living room, I’ve hung numerous photos, objects, and important quotations I never want to forget. One quote is especially dear to me.

“Life is short,” it reads. “We must be able to forgive each other’s mistakes.”

If you’ve lived as long as I have, then more likely than not, people have wronged you. I’ve given up my resentments towards those who treated me badly — because there isn’t much time left. 

Rosh Hashanah is a holiday when we forgive each other and bear no grudges in our hearts. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that love, good health, and mutual support are the essential ingredients to a life well lived. Not grievance. This New Year, all of us can choose to work towards these things.

After all, JDC honors these commitments each and every day. They’ve given me love, support, and better health than I would’ve ever had otherwise. 

Us Jews, we’re kind people — we help each other until the very end. And if I could reach out and speak to you, I’d thank you from the very bottom of my heart. I’ll never be able to repay the good you or JDC have done for me, but I can pay it forward in the forgiveness I extend to others. 

Mikhail Kalamkarov, 76, is a JDC client in Tbilisi, Georgia.

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