What goes on in the mind of a writer when he – or she – sits down to create a line of two for those who are interested in his talent?
Plenty and nothing!
Right now, echoing in the back of my mind, are those who wish to put me on a guilt trip, like my daughter who calls and says, “But, Dad, the readers want to know what happened to you when you came home after those horrible years in the Soviet Union…”
Do you really want to know? Do you really want me to spend the next four years gathering evidence of the FBI interrogations and the lie-detector tests and the almost fatal meeting in Washington D.C. with a turncoat KGB officer who happened to say to me during one of the sessions, “Comrade, Tom Bogoshovich, you and I know that the KGB would not allow you to return home unless you do something for them… Tell me what your mission is and I definitely will help you…”
Do I really want to relive that crap?
“The last time I saw Paris…” Hammerstein, get the hell out of my mind. “Her heart was warm and gay…I heard the laughter of her heart in every street café….”
“I’m leaving Paris,” Jeannot said.
“No! No! No!” I shouted back in my mind. “You can’t! It’s the most beautiful place on earth…Please, Jean don’t!”
“I have sold my home and Laura and I are moving to St. Rapheal. The streets are not safe anymore. The cafes are not safe. We can’t stroll the boulevards. Even the birds don’t sing anymore. Come visit us at our home on the Mediterranean. Too many people in Paris today are wearing ‘masks’.”
The epicenter of nationalism and the rebirth of radicalism in American politics…get thee from me, Donald. I had vowed never, never again to mention his name in print! God forgive!
*He would leave millions stateless;
*He robbed thousands of workers of their hard-earned wages and had the audacity to say he created “millions of jobs” for Americans;
*He is simulated by his ego and has shown daily that he cannot be trusted with power;
*He belittles those who are handicapped;
*When he can’t get his way, he cries like a baby and would kick crying babies out of his sight;
*And, here in America, when a fallen soldier’s family mourns, we mourn with them, you would dishonor the names of our heroes. You would attack the father and mother of those who sacrificed…oh, let me allow Mr. Lincoln to say it, for he would do it far, far, better than my mind could…that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to the cause for which they gave their last full measure of devotion…that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain…”
Mr. Kahn offered you a copy of the Constitution; I am forwarding you a copy of Lincoln’s Gettysburg’s Address, so that you can read the final words. On the other hand, do you read anything other than the National Inquirer? Using your view, through your licentiousness and despicable character, Mr. Trump, our heroes have sacrificed their lives so that you can build walls and make your fortunes. Have you no common sense or humanity? Do you not know the definition of “sacrifice”?
There is another America, Mr. Trump. An America that, after I lived behind the Iron Curtain for 13 years, I came back to and the people of this great nation opened up their arms and welcomed me back.
These are the fragmented thoughts and tribulations of a writer as dawn breaks over a beautiful lake in the state of Michigan…
Tom Mooradian was one of 151 Americans who traveled to Soviet Armenia to repatriate during the 1940’s. Thought to be a spy by the KGB, Tom miraculously survived 13 years behind the Iron Curtain winning the hearts of the Soviets through his basketball prowess. Filled with political drama, romance, and intrigue, Tom’s autobiography, The Repatriate reads like a novel, and will have you guessing how Tom managed to return to America alive.
The Second Edition is now available on Kindle and in Paperback!