When I was a young teen, my 49-year old father died of sudden cardiac arrest while we were at home watching his favorite TV show. This was before CPR and 911. My mother quickly called our family doctor, who called the police for an ambulance. We waited helplessly for it to arrive, but all the squad could do was administer oxygen to my unconscious father and transport him to the hospital.
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Night has fallen, the afternoon rain giving way to a starry sky, and Red Square looks magical. The wet cobblestones are slick with reflected, kaleidoscopic light. The great red wall of the Kremlin looms to my right. Ahead of me the gaudy onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral shimmer in floodlights. It is a fairytale setting.