In the fall of 2012 I was having dinner south of Moscow with a celebrated local doctor who invited me over after hearing that there was an American in town.

When my wife and I started thinking about where to retire, we didn’t really consider the obvious place — the Vineyard.

I walked the perimeter of Martha’s Vineyard last October over four consecutive days. I walked six to seven hours a day, covering 12 to 15 miles at a stretch.

Yes, I am the 10-year-old Ukrainian kid whose parents are trying to shelter from Russian bombs — in my case they were German bombs.

It all began with a paper cup.

In the early 1970s, I spent summers working at Poole’s Fish Market in Menemsha.