“In fifth grade I did a Ukrainian Easter egg demonstration (pysanka),” Orest Kramarczuk writes. “After applying wax over intricate designs on an egg I would hold the egg over a candle flame melting the wax and revealing the vibrant colors and symbols.” Above, intricately decorated Easter eggs were among the handicrafts on display on Ukrainian Day in Minnehaha Park in August 1971. (Star Tribune file/The Minnesota Star Tribune)

It was Nov. 1, 1959. I was 8 years old. My parents were moving into their new house. As Ukrainian refugees they fulfilled their American dream that day.

As we finished moving in I noticed my father placing a large drum in a deep recess of the basement. Curious, I asked him what it contained. Dry milk, he replied.

Why did we need that? I asked. Because we lost everything in the war and were hungry, he said. He did not want to experience that again. The powdered milk was his insurance against another war.

I really did not understand. We lived in America, after all.

But from a very early age I was taught respect for food. If someone dropped a piece of bread on the ground they would pick it up and kiss it. I still do this. But why?

As I grew older I learned of the Holodomor, the artificial famine imposed by Josef Stalin on the peasants of eastern Ukraine in the 1930s. I couldn't find a trace of this in history books. I only learned about what happened from Ukrainians who immigrated from eastern Ukraine.

The existence of this genocide was effectively denied and suppressed by the Soviet government. The deaths of millions of people was only revealed in the last 50 years.

Growing up, I would tell my friends and classmates I was of Ukrainian descent. Everyone thought it meant Russia. I would point out that Ukraine is a separate country with its own culture and traditions. It surprises me how prominent Ukraine has become the last few years. Fifty years ago no one was aware of its distinct identity.

But I had I embraced Ukrainian traditions growing up. In fifth grade I did a Ukrainian Easter egg demonstration (pysanka). After applying wax over intricate designs on an egg I would hold the egg over a candle flame melting the wax and revealing the vibrant colors and symbols.

In many ways this has been Ukraine's story as well. It is like a fertile egg covered in black wax to be melted away, revealing a rich culture steeped in tradition.

As a young man I was a member of a dance group. When we performed people would say they loved our Russian dancing. We would correct them. It was Ukrainian dancing they loved.

Our choir would perform Christmas carols. My favorite was the "Carol of the Bells." This was a Russian carol, they would say. No, it's Ukrainian, we would explain.

When I was old enough to stand behind the counter of our Kramarczuk's store in Minneapolis, I would serve customers our sausage and other traditional Ukrainian foods. I would have to explain that borscht is not Russian but has its roots in Ukraine. The wall was beginning to crack.

Why, you ask, am I writing this?

I am writing this so people can really understand the conflict in Ukraine. What is the central issue?

This conflict is about suppressing and destroying not only a country but its culture. It is about destroying Ukraine's soul. It's worse than mass murder and the wholesale annihilation of cities.

Yes, Stalin succeeded to a degree almost a century ago. Mass murder was kept from the world. But the truth did not die.

It was the first phase in the Russification of Ukraine. Russian became the official language. Ukrainian Orthodox churches were banned. It was cultural genocide.

Many of the problems in Ukraine are the result of this genocide.

Upon the collapse of the Soviet Union, Ukraine gained its independence and its right to self-determination. There was a rebirth of its culture and traditions. Most importantly, its language was reborn.

Russia cannot accept this reality. It cannot tolerate the rebirth of the Ukrainian soul. It is a direct challenge to Russians' perception of their own history which they have manipulated. It is an indictment of the few who have stolen the riches of Russia to subjugate its citizens. Sounds like the czars, right?

My mother passed away some time ago. I put the old house up for sale.

The last item to move out was my father's 50-pound drum of dry milk. It had stood in that basement recess for 55 years. Curious, I opened the lid. To my surprise the milk was still good. I teared up as I realized what it stood for and how fortunate I was that I never had to use it.

We don't realize what we have until we lose it. Ukraine has its soul back. Let's pray they keep it.

Orest Kramarczuk lives in Little Canada.