The Grind
Work was pretty intense at the dealership in Dallas. We were open till nine, so even if I got off at six-thirty, if a client came in at six, I could easily be there till nine. There were all these days in the month where we had to stay till nine—mid-month this, mid-month that, the start of the month.
I would wake up, leave for work, and my daughter would be sleeping. I would come home and she would be sleeping. My whole day got deleted from my daughter, which was super alarming for me. Sometimes, if I had an extra hour or two, I would hang out with my friends after work, but generally the day was just… gone. I was sick of it.
Time For a Change
I used to go on ski vacations once a year. Two years ago, I saw an ad on my Instagram for skiing in Whitefish, Montana. I went and really liked it. I realized I wanted to be in a place that’s peaceful. I was sick of the cities. I wanted snow, a winter-wonderland kind of place. Not like Chicago or New York… but mountains, snow.
I had a two-year-old baby daughter, and I was like: I’m over this. I don’t want to be in a big city anymore. So we moved to Kalispell a little over a year ago. We didn’t know anyone. It was just me, my wife Yulia, and my daughter Teona.
It’s pretty and peaceful here. I see deer all the time. I always had a fantasy to live by a ski resort, and I made it happen. I’m not saying it’s perfect, but for the most part, especially after the summer people leave, it comes back to being a local town.
I work at a used car dealership. We close at six every day. We open at eight, so I’m there from eight to six, four days a week. I’m home between six and six-thirty pretty much every day. Maybe once in a blue moon I have a customer who keeps me there till seven, but even that doesn’t happen that often.
My Family
I was born in Dallas, but my parents are from Russia and Ukraine. They came in 1985 and 1989 to New York. They were Soviet immigrants who knew they were Jewish, but that was the extent of their Jewish identity.
My mom is from Kiev. When she came to New York, she saw Chassidim and thought they were dressed up to go to a play. She knew she was Jewish—her grandparents all spoke Yiddish—but she knew nothing about it. It was culturally embedded in her, but she had no awareness.
My dad’s from Moscow, and his dad is from Georgia—that’s where my last name comes from. My dad was in the jewelry business; he’s still a jeweler. My mom has been cutting hair since she was in the Soviet Union. Ninety percent of her clients are Russian Jews.
I had a Bar Mitzvah. I went to Sunday school at a Reform synagogue. My best friend was Israeli, half Moroccan, half Iraqi, and I was at his house a lot. I went to Young Israel. All my friends were Jewish—I was in the Jewish ecosystem. I wasn’t very religious, but I was Jewish. After my Bar Mitzvah, my Jewish life slowed down.
"My mom is from Kiev. When she came to New York, she saw Chassidim and thought they were dressed up to go to a play."
Trimming the Fat
When I got to Kalispell, I found out there’s a Chabad, so I called Rabbi Shneur. We got a coffee at Black Rifle. We sat down and talked for two hours, and then right after, we put on tefillin. That’s how it started. This was about a year ago.
It was a reawakening. I had nothing else to do. I didn’t have my friends here. I didn’t have my family. It was just me, my wife, and my daughter. All the fat from my life got cut off, so the space for Judaism opened up. I one hundred percent fault this to, you know, moving up here and to Rabbi Shneur. Him personally, as a human being. The way he explains things, the person that he is—that made me comfortable going to Shabbos at his house every Friday, to be more Jewish.
"It was a reawakening. I had nothing else to do. I didn’t have my friends here. I didn’t have my family. It was just me, my wife, and my daughter. All the fat from my life got cut off, so the space for Judaism opened up."
This year, I went to all the High Holidays. I did Yom Kippur fully. I did Rosh Hashanah pretty much fully. I don’t think I’ve ever done that. I go to Shabbos almost every Friday night. There’s always something new to learn. Sometimes it sticks with me, sometimes it doesn’t. I’m always adding more Jewish intellect into my brain.
I started watching this Chabad rabbi in Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine, Rabbi Kaminezki, on YouTube. I’m always learning something new now. I have everything here that I need, and I don’t miss my old life.
Every week I’m learning something new. Last Saturday I did the moon prayer, Kiddush Levana. I had no idea about it. It has to happen during a certain time of the month and the moon has to be visible—everything needs to line up. I went outside at night and did it.
I have tefillin now. I put them on every day. I say the Shema and then I go to work. When you wake up, it feels like the world is ending—there’s a million things to do, you’re stressed out. Then you put on the tefillin and everything shuts down for a second. You’re like: It’s okay. I’m fine. Like Jewish yoga.
It happened today. I shut my door, put on my tefillin… and I was like, “I’m okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Simon putting on tefillin with Rabbi Shneur Wolf at Black Rifle Coffee Company the day after he moved to Kalispell.
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