Soljenitsyne

Soljenitsyne's death brings me back decades ago. My recollections are fuzzy but I remember that my father was deeply moved by his books. Seeing as his Gulag Archipelago was published in 1973, I cannot imagine I read it at the tender age of 10... I remember sleeping on the floor - or was it wanting to? - in an attempt to commiserate with the terrible fate of those who battled against all that stood in the way of freedom.

In my teenage years, I was in awe of revolutionaries. My best friend one year nicknamed herself Fidel; I was Mao. These people sounded like they were making terribly important changes (where was my thirst of freedom then?) and we were enthralled by their energy. No critical judgment - just passion and blind devotion.

It is difficult for me to remember the feelings I had then, now that their legacy is known or intuited... I cannot remember what fascinated me in those stories. I can only guess at absolutes and thirst for what was Right. An idealism that did not dwell on the shadowy sides of things, an innocence that made me believe propaganda at face value.

Atrocities and resilience, good and evil, right and wrong held me captive. Human nature is capable of all that? Can embrace all that?

I majored in psychology, trying to sort out this puzzle until it lost its urgency and life took over.

Thank you Soljenitsyne for shining a light on those shadows we would as soon forget. Thank you for revealing to me the compassionate side of my father.