Papachkas Need Love Too

Let me say it plainly: being a papachka from the former Soviet Union is a full time emotional gymnastics routine. And yes, we know they’re all “Master Sporta” in something. Wrestling. Chess. Arm wrestling their emotions.

These men were trained from youth to operate like tanks. Stoic, indestructible, emotionally silent, and capable of fixing a leaking faucet with one bent coin and a curse whispered in three languages.

But tanks get rusty too.

We never called it love. We called it discipline. We called it “you’ll eat what I make or you’ll starve.” We called it “I brought you to this country so you wouldn’t end up like me.” And if you were lucky, once a year, after three shots of cognac, they’d look at you across the table and say something radical like, “You’re not stupid like I thought.”

Translation: I love you more than life itself.

Our papas and dedushkas aren’t always the warmest babushkas in the breadbasket. They’re not calling you sweetie. They’re not buying you bubble tea. They’ve never once asked “How’s your mental health” unless “mental health” was code for “you didn’t go to medical school and now I have nothing to tell Moisha from Minsk.”

But beneath that thick emotional trench coat is a human being. A man who never got the space to say I’m tired. Who never asked for help because he didn’t know help was allowed. Who’s still learning how to be soft in a world that told him softness was weakness.

And here’s the kicker. They need love too.

And they pickle. Boy, do they pickle. They pickle like they’re entering an international pickle tournament and only garlic can win them emotional closure. Tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, garlic, watermelon rinds, full heads of cabbage, sometimes things that shouldn’t legally be pickled. If it fits in a jar, they’ll preserve it. Pickling is their therapy. It’s how they cope, how they show care. They won’t say “I’m proud of you,” but they will hand you a lukewarm jar of fermented mushrooms with a nod like it’s a medal of honor. That’s love, distilled in brine, sealed with silence, and stored in the basement for the apocalypse or next weekend’s barbecue. If your dad ever offers you something from “the jar,” don’t be rude. That’s a generational I love you.

And let’s give credit where credit’s due. Soviet dads are funny. Their humor doesn’t come from sitcoms, it comes from surviving. Not in the knock knock way. Not in the dad joke starter pack way. Their jokes are built from silence and landmines. They don’t even smile when they deliver them. A Soviet dad will make a joke at a funeral and have the whole table crying, from grief and laughter at the same time. Their timing is surgical. Their sarcasm is multi generational. Their punchlines are delayed detonation. These aren’t dad jokes, they’re survival jokes. Smuggled out in a duffel bag next to some dried fish.

You think you’re clever? Your dad once made a joke involving four countries, three wars, and one bad haircut. And it still hits.

Let’s talk about Father’s Day. June 15 this year. The one day a year when the papachka gets a tie he didn’t ask for and a text that says “thx dad.” Meanwhile, this guy once worked 17 years without a vacation. His back has more cracks than your therapist’s couch. He’s the only man who can fall asleep upright in an IKEA chair while holding a remote and still somehow hear if someone opened the fridge. He’s tough because he had to be. But now? Maybe he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want much. He just wants you to sit with him. Maybe laugh at a story from the army that changes every time he tells it. Maybe fix the Wi Fi without asking. And maybe, just maybe, tell him that you see him. Not just as the protector, or the man who once threatened to turn the car around for 80 miles straight, but as a person. A guy who tried his best with what he had.

Maybe even say the word love without coughing afterward.

And to the rookie papachkas, the ones pushing strollers in Brooklyn with Bluetooth earbuds and panic in their eyes, this part’s for you. You’re doing great. You’re allowed to change the story. You can be strong and gentle. You can cry and still know how to jumpstart a Soviet car. You can kiss your kids on the head and still drink your tea boiling hot like it’s a military test. You can FaceTime your mom and still be a man. You’re allowed to be soft and proud of it.

And when your own father gives you that look, you know the one, like you’re soft for hugging your daughter in public, just hug him too. Hug him like you’re making up for all the years he didn’t know how. Throw him off. Leave him stunned. Let the love leak in through the cracks. Because deep down? He wanted that hug for 30 years.

To the papachkas. The stoic. The misunderstood. The grumpy men who fix the Wi Fi with rage alone. The ones who carried bags across borders, said nothing for decades, and still somehow brought joy into rooms with just a head nod. The ones who swallowed their feelings like vitamin D in January.

We love you. Even if we don’t say it enough. Even if you pretend you don’t need it. Even if you act allergic to affection.

You held it down. Now let us hold you.

And just like we did for the mamas, we’re doing it for the papas. Because papachkas need love too. And maybe this year, they get more than a tie.

Here are five actually good gifts to get your papachka this year:

1. A proper samovar (electric or traditional)
   Bring back the tea vibes of his childhood and let him act like a czar with a cup of scalding hot black tea in hand.

2. A deluxe pickling kit
   Give him the gear to take his brine game to the next level. Good jars. Gloves. The works. Let him ferment in peace.

3. A custom Russian English crossword book
   Fill it with family names, Soviet references, and inside jokes. The man will weep into his tea.

4. A wool flat cap, Soviet grandpa style
   Let him stroll down the street like he owns the whole avenue. Which, in his mind, he does.

5. A personalized cameo from Garik as Baba Fira
   Usually $350, but for this week only, it’s just $49. The roast, the love, the accent, the eyebrows, all of it. This is the gift he’ll actually replay on speaker.

Email bookbabafira@gmail.com to book now. Surprise your papa, dedushka, husband, or even a new dad friend with a personalized Baba Fira Father’s Day video. On sale now for just $49 this week only. Next week the price goes up, so if you want the discount, now’s the time to book. A little roast, a lotta love, and a shoutout from the Soviet queen herself.