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Anybody want to comment? Yea, I know it's long. I know that already. Thanks.?

call it by its name: murder oh political policy in a pig’s eye there’s no policy except the party they hid it so no one could see but i knew i knew the die is cast the bus ride the incessant indoctrination we jolted along past the collectives pinichov that pitiful stooge was dictating to us. imagine all the same old manure. i realized then for me there was no turning back farm after farm we passed while pinichov droned and around me blackness for i knew what no one else could know i suppose knowledge can be severe i closed my eyes and covered my face and wept i saw no farms but one, the litvinov’s yuri’s will was too strong yuri was only a poor farmer but he was the true patriot mrs. litvinov had found him his skull crushed and his blood spilt from the house to the center of the yard where he lay in a puddle of black his blood was black it was the soil yuri had fought for he knew no ideology and he lay until they were sure that she would find him and how do i know? yes you ask God save my soul i am privy to such things but they had not had enough they would use yuri as an example and they brought mrs. litvinov to stand trial as you recall my father occasionally did a curious thing he opened a file for me to see he’d ask me what i thought of it what i’d do if i were he if i had his authority. i read of yuri: he was a traitor to the party and russia condemned for trading in the black market trading in contraband at the expense of the common people those who sacrificed for the collectives then the litvinovs were exposed as jews that file was routine kgb - my hands shook following death by unnatural causes – unnatural indeed – an accident, yuri had fallen while patching a leak in his roof following the heavy snows, he had been drinking and lost his balance. i looked at father sensing that somehow he was reaching out to me and had no words to express himself i said papa why is it good men fall? they fall from roofs they fall from positions of authority they disappear and never return to their families? papa yuri did not fall did he? and father said no yevi your good friend and mine did not fall from the roof and i said papa it was the hooligans, murderous thugs what does a life mean to them? but father said it is more than that much more and i said papa it’s the party boss – and demansk is a stalinist stronghold – yerchenko he is the leading proponent of the old brutality and father said he wields the power he’s corrupt he’s blind and arrogant and dangerous but it is more than just yerchenko and i said papa the farm policy is unbending uncompromising dictating from the top and so it rises, yes? and he said yes and i said without consideration of individual lives we are spoon-fed force-fed the line and father said yes … but and i exclaimed papa how far does it go? it is men in power – you have seen it they are jaded and lost and we are floundering in an intricate web papa looked at me and spoke as never before yes yevi my son all these things are true and i continued and i pressed him how far does it go? i ceased and he fell back silent in his chair the life seemed to drain from his body and he touched me in a way i have never felt before a man so cold and aloof and driven so many years a man i barely knew and now suddenly unmasked it was like an introduction and i spoke softly and asked papa why? but then i knew it was of the moment that for which he had had no words it is them and us - all of us them and you and me and his eyes were moist but steady if you only knew him as i then knew him i cannot say how proud i was a moment of ecstasy amidst the ache of ages and the buses rolled along on farm day pinichov had been chosen for his charisma not necessarily his subtlety his devotion and obedience, less his tact one of the pet dogs, his eyes would gleam with his zeal for his purpose don’t lose sight of the dollar he would say while stooping to pick up the penny and he spoke of ages and lives and histories meanings, unquestioning not knowing any other way he was one of the many cogs in the machinery essentially as guilty and innocent as I as i sat seeing the litvinov tragedy one tiny speck in an ocean of tangled nets i cringed and clutched my hands together the blood yuri’s blood was black upon my hands dried clotted black. no more if it is within my power i made a private statement I pronounced the words and set the die it is wrong but there it is as papa had said and as he said it he looked deeply into my eyes he seemed to be saying that once he had taken his stand and he would live with it he was what there was but i still had a chance he seemed to say that i was the more the time he did not have all this spoken though no words passed between us i felt all this and more we sat huddled close to the fire in the hearth and a sudden downdraft blew the ashes in our faces brushing at them lightly paled papa’s skin and from my father’s place a ghost arose to speak where life is gray and frail as the ghost re-entered his body papa’s vision sharpened and he became the man of steel once again just as I was thinking all these things his eye pealed away my disguises and the blood rushed to my face then he rose and kissed me and said be true to yevi and to Russia my son wherever that may lead you

Public Comments

1. i served in the american military so people could do whatever crazy crap they wanted its not that bad really. shows you got an individual opinion
2. "be true to Yevi and to Russia" be honest, be true to the truth, regardless of the popularity of the party line.....it's difficult to go against the grain, to stand up for what's right. He taught his son a most important lesson.