ABSTRACT
On that frosty December day, the doors of the apartment were wide open. People came and went. Boris Yakovlevich Zeldovich sat at a large, round table and composed a list of awards his father had received during his life. In a large box lay a jumble of Hero of Socialist Labour gold stars, various decorations of merit, gold medals from various academies. This list was intended for an obituary in the CERN Courier. To go with the obituary, a photograph was chosen, a copy of which is now sitting in a frame on my bookshelf. It shows a man in a simple grey sweater sitting pensively and quietly, leaning on his elbows on a table.
