In Memoriam: Christopher James
It is with a very heavy heart that I share the news. Our first ever donor, who helped me help Ukrainians before I even had a plan, before Cards for Ukraine had a name, died suddenly yesterday.
Yesterday afternoon, just a few days after I last spoke with Christopher, during a live interview he asked me to do with Mriya Report, I opened X to read the shocking news.
Christopher and I didn’t know each other before Russia invaded Ukraine. Somehow, over the magic of what was then Twitter, Christopher began reading my tweets as I was sharing what I was seeing and hearing while helping as a volunteer at Vienna’s central train station in March 2022. I wrote about helping provide basic needs: buying coffees, sandwiches, sometimes paying for overnight hotel stays, diapers, whatever people from Ukraine who had fled sometimes with only a few shopping bags to carry their belongings needed right then in that moment. Christopher read my Substack, and reached out to me, writing “you should not be buying all those coffees alone!” and sent me the first $100 donation, one of many, which essentially launched Cards for Ukraine before it had a name or a concept. Christopher sent me messages of encouragement along the way, complementing my writing, sharing a feeling of empathy for strangers which unfortunately is lacking in so many of our fellow humans.
He loved the idea of distributing supermarket gift cards. As I started to share the photos of the groceries Ukrainians were buying with the cards, he raved about how pleased he was to see “ingredients”. Christopher had a passion for cooking, too. Months later, I wrote about a teenage artist, now in a Lower Austrian town with her mother. Christopher reached out to the family and purchased two of her paintings, which he then proudly had framed back in the U.S.
As the first Christmas rolled around, and other volunteers and I were struggling with what to do for all the thousands of Ukrainian kids who would be spending their first big holiday very far from home and in many cases, apart from their fathers and grandparents, Christopher took it upon himself to go on Amazon and order, to my home address, THOUSANDS of chocolate Santas, gift bags, and stickers. Overnight, half of my living room was filled with Christmas gifts for children. From a man in New York City whom I had never met in person!
My job was the easy part: to contact mothers living in dorms, hotels and organized refugee housing to establish lists of how many children at each address, and then find volunteers over both Twitter and a Russian-speaking mommy Facebook group, to make the deliveries across Austria. And we did it. We really did it. Christopher’s chocolates were lovingly wrapped and delivered by volunteers across Austria that Christmas. He brightened the holiday for over one thousand children he would never meet. Just because. Because he knew he could place an order online, and he knew I would not let him down in executing the logistics. It was really an unbelievable gesture, and it brought joy to so many.
As the months rolled on, other “regular” donors joined the Cards for Ukraine effort and kept us afloat and continuing to help to this day. Christopher continued to read my Substack posts and send words of encouragement. He was like a fairy godfather, when you know there is one person out there cheering for you, rooting you on from afar. Just because. Just because he understood the feeling of wanting to help strangers in need, and he truly believed in the value of positive encouragement.
Christopher began as a regular host on Mriya Report. Twice, he invited me to do live interviews and talk about my work in Austria. Most recently, just this past Thursday. We chatted for an hour and a half, and Christopher posed a very interesting question: now that the war is in its third year already, and you are no longer dealing with immediate crisis management, how can people in “safe” countries best help Ukrainians?
I replied that one of the best ways any of us can help is by offering to help Ukrainians in our communities to find good jobs. Job hunting is never easy even in one’s home country in one’s native language. Very often, these personal introductions make a huge difference in convincing a local employer to take a chance on a recent immigrant. Christopher loved the idea, and explained that having recently moved to southern New Jersey from NYC, he had also reached out to the local Ukrainian communities in his area.
Christopher loved to cheer me on when we organized in-person activities, especially over the holidays. This winter, we hosted several ice skating events for Ukrainian kids, and Christopher enjoyed the photos and hearing about how it all went. He kept me going even on days when I was feeling lazy and not really keen on organising yet another event, as I know the logistics work that goes into, as we say in Russian with a smirk, “working with people”. There are people in this world who inspire us every day to do better, to be better, and Christopher was one of those special people. I can still hear his voice and the joy with which he interacted with me and so many others.
Last December, Christopher visited Vienna with his incredible daughter Anastasia. They took the overnight bus from Berlin, where Anastasia had spent a semester abroad. I brought my eldest son along, and our kids chatted about everything and anything from American politics to colleges to life for young people in Europe. We went to a traditional Austrian restaurant near the Vienna woods, and they ordered the goose — an Austrian speciality at that time of year. It was a lovely meal and a lovely evening, incredible to think you can meet such special people over a telephone screen, and then click so easily in real life.
It was with a very heavy heart that I took myself to Stephansdom last night, and lit a few candles in Christopher’s memory. I do not know why so often it is the case that the truly good ones leave this earth before the rest of us. My heart goes out to his daughter and his family during this incredibly difficult time. It is a shock and I still cannot quite believe it. I still hear Christopher’s happy voice greeting me over the internet connection of an X “Space”, introducing me like an old friend, an ocean and then some in between us. Now, I will look to the stars and think of him, every time I am feeling lazy or “why bother”, because I know exactly what his answer would be.
RIP, Christopher. You will be dearly missed.