In Soviet Russia good titles have trouble thinking up you!

“What are you passionate about, Katushka?”

‘So, an American gets into a convertible Mini-Cooper with two Russians.’ That’s how the joke begins -- the setup. We know where it’s going now. When Russians and Americans get together...there is always tension...always deception. I know three Russian sisters, but the oldest isn’t here in the car. Irina, Katerina, Tanya. I rarely call them by their given names.

Kat doesn’t quite seem to understand how to answer the question.

“...cause Tanya seems to be passionate about, like, fashion,” I explain. “High society, stuff like that. And Irka, she’s passionate about aesthetics -- painting, drawing, beautiful things. You’re so quiet though...so I can’t quite tell what you’re passionate about.”

Kat is the middle of these three Russian sisters, and is very much overshadowed by them. Irina, the oldest (my age), is loud and fun; the kind of person who never seems to enters a party without knowing someone and never leaves the party without knowing everyone. Tanya is the youngest, 18 (but she looks about 14). She’s a fireball. The ‘don’t take no shit from nobody’ type -- but in a girly, sleek, sophisticated, posh way, of course. The sisters jokingly call her ‘Paris’. It’s probably a reference to the Illiad.

Kat, on the other hand, is much quieter. ‘Mild-mannered’ you might say -- if she turned out to be the alter-ego of a super hero. When the sisters are together (and they always are) Kat lets Ira and Tanya do the talking. She remains content to laugh happily and only occasionally interject.

Just a moment before Kat had said. “I really need to practice guitar.” I knew that she was taking drum lessons from a friend of mine, and she sometimes played guitar and sang quietly with my roommate on occasion...while I goofed off with the two noisier sisters. I was expecting her to talk about music; perhaps she would open up a bit about how music moves her, inspires her.

“You don’t know what I’m passionate about!” says Tanya from the back seat. “I’m not passionate about fashion! That’s not what I’m passionate about!”

“Alright, Tanichka, what are you passionate about?” I turn around and look at her.

“I don’t want to say, it’s embarrassing.”

Kat pipes up: “I’m passionate about helping people.”

I turn back around to the front, to face Kat.

“I really want to help people, especially kids. I’m just so passionate about that. You know? The ones who really need help. Need Jesus.”

“Hmm,” I said. And that’s pretty much what I meant: hmm... Just some non-desrcript, non-committal noise. I didn’t know what to think yet...other than: hmm...

“Yeah, I’m passionate about counseling,” says Tanya. “So many people who just need someone to listen to them and guide them. So after IHOP (the P stands for Prayer, not Pancakes...I asked) I want to go to Palm Beach, Florida.

“What’s in Palm Beach?”

“There’s this program there, for counseling.”

“Cool.”

This is not what they’re passionate about. This is not what gets their blood flowing. Kat may be quiet, but I know her better than this. And I certainly know little Tanichka better. They’re not lying, though. They believe that this is what they’re passionate about. Why? What interrupted the chain of events that dictates: ‘This is what I enjoy. This brings me great pleasure. This is what I am motivated towards...This is my passion.’

Long ago, someone was asked about their passions. That person responds with something pious -- something self sacrificial. “I am passionate about the Emperor’s new clothes! How beautiful they are!” Someone coos over this. How wonderful a person this is -- who’s very passion is on the behalf of others!

The Russians are there. They observe this. The Russians think...I want to be a wonderful person.

Another time, someone asks the Russians what they are passionate about. They are probably little girls at this time. They probably still live in Russia.

“Tantsevat!” (dancing!)

“Lyet!” (singing!)

“Moy Kooklya!” (my dolly!)

The expression on the face of the inquisitor is, “How cute. How childish.” The implication: how selfish.

And so people are taught in Russia, the same as America and every other part of the world, that good people’s passions are for helping others. Good people desire to make the world a better place.

We all want to be the good people. The alternative isn’t very appealing.

Only -- I already think the Russians are good people! They are my friends and I love them, regardless of how they answer some silly question! I just want to know what brings them to life, what they just can’t stop talking about.

“What are you passionate about, Reed?”

I could have been honest...in a million different ways. I could have said that I am passionate about storytelling...about arranging words or pictures or sounds in a way that it brings a tale to life...in a way that illuminates the world. The idea of conveying some truth to someone through an artistic medium -- through a tale -- fact or fiction -- turns me on. It is creative, it is communication. It is what I live for.

I could have said that I am passionate about learning -- filling my head with useless knowledge. The more useless the better. Trivia, and therefore trivial. I like knowing a bit more about how the world works. It’s not for any particular reason, just because I enjoy it. It means something to me.

I could have said that I am passionate about sex, specifically -- understanding it and learning about the opposite gender. What do women enjoy? What is is like for them: physiologically, psychologically? Why did God design such a bizarre act and why is it both seen as the ultimate expression of love and yet also something only a pervert would spend so much time thinking about?

But this would not make me seem pious. These, in fact, might make the Russians think less of me.

I told them about a trip I want to take. The goal of the trip being to learn about the poor people of the world and how to love them better. And the Russians cooed and told me how wonderful I must be and how excited they were for me to take this trip.

It was all true...I do want to take the trip...and every detail I mentioned was true. Only the part about it being what I’m passionate about was a lie.

My friend Canada says that everything he’s ever done his entire life he’s done out of fear. The things he’s done wrong -- fear. But also, the things he’s done right -- fear.

So I will go on my trip to learn about love and about the poor. And little Tanichka will go to IHOP and then Florida and counsel people And Katushka will find a way to help children. But don’t think that we do it because we’re wonderful. We do it because we’re afraid. We are afraid that if we don’t pretend that helping other people is our passion...we will be discovered. Someone will know that we are monsters. Someone will realize that we are the villains in the story, and then...the same thing will happen to us that always happens to villains.

No one will love us.