Originally Published April 30, 2019
The year is 1954. It was a dark and frigid August day in Nizhny Novgorod, USSR, and the clocks were just striking six. The grey stone Soviet blocks stretched high into the cloudy sky, forever scarring the city’s skyline with their wretched ugliness. The concrete roads, overgrown with plants and weeds that sprung through the countless cracks lined the lifeless, isolated city, no bustling cars and not a single man outside, save for the constant Red Army patrols in their dreaded khaki-coloured uniforms and the few poor souls unfortunate enough to be caught outside in the streets when the patrols were in a bad mood. A sort of eerie silence loomed over the city, only occasionally broken by the sound of Soviet propaganda that blared constantly in deafening blows through the distant loudspeakers, as well as the occasional screams of terror in the streets, always silenced immediately by one thundering gunshot.
It all seemed like the most terrible of situations, but to Alexei Kuznetsov, it was nothing special. He was a bright and humble, yet always troubled young man of twenty-five, who lived his life day by daydreaming of a better life in a land far, far away from the USSR, the land he despised with a certain hatred not capable of being put into words. But he knew, deep down, that such a day would never come, and as such, he lived his depressing life with the constant monotony and blind submission that was expected of him. He marched up the cracked concrete steps and pushed through the dirty glass doors of his colourless apartment block, running up the countless flights of stairs with a great eagerness to get some rest after a long day at work. He shuffled along the empty, unlighted concrete hallway of his floor and quickly slipped through the creaky wooden door of his apartment unit, though not quickly enough to escape the waft of dust that followed. Locking the door behind him, he set his toolbox on the ground, slipped off his old woollen trench coat, and placed his brown flat cap atop a dusty dresser. Then, with a cough and a sigh, he made his way over to the kitchen counter and began preparing a cup of the ridiculously watery, bland excuse for coffee that came in his monthly rations. Even as he did this, the gas stove flickered and the kettle refused to boil. It all seemed like a regular, troublesome day in the life of Alexei Kuznetzov.
As Alexei repeatedly attempted, albeit to no avail, to ignite the gas stove, music slowly emerged from the loudspeakers, routinely and robotically. The speakers were playing the anthem of the Soviet Union, a song that Alexei secretly loathed with a subtle hatred, but one that he took to with a strange interest. He had always found the lyrics of the song to be extremely hypocritical, worshipping the ‘great ideals of the Soviet Union’ that were freedom and prosperity, both of which were entirely nonexistent in the land where above it all flew that treacherous crimson banner, terribly defaced with the insignia of the hammer and sickle. Somehow, however, they were able to put such atrocious lyrics to a beautiful, captivating masterpiece of musical art. Alexei fidgeted and shook his fist in anger, barely being able to hold himself together as the terribly alluring chorale made out from the loudspeakers. ‘United forever, in friendship and labour. Our mighty republics will ever endure! The Great Soviet Union will live through the ages, the dream of a people, their fortress secure!’ Alexei longed to silence the loudspeakers by any means possible, desperately wishing for the torture to stop. ‘Long live our Soviet motherland! Built by the people’s mighty hand! Long live our people, united and free! Strong, in our friendship tried by fire!’ The last few lines angered Alexei the most, causing him to shout in anger in a way that was beyond his control. ‘Long may our crimson flag inspire! Shining in glory for all men to see!’1 How fascinating it was, that such a beautiful and glorious piece of musical masterpiece could put an individual through such terrible suffering.
Suddenly, a few gentle knocks made from the creaky wooden door. Almost as if the agonizing hymn never played at all, Alexei’s face lit up immediately in a bright sense of joy, just like how a match ignites in a bright burst of light, knowing exactly who had come to visit him. With a smile and excitement burning in his heart, he rushed over to the door and swung it open, immediately embracing the individual behind it in a long, meaningful hug. Behind the door was his girlfriend, Maria Limanskaya, who held Alexei tightly and lovingly with a sort of warmness only she could bring to his heart. Maria was one of the last things in Alexei’s life that brought him true joy and happiness. Small things like receiving his monthly chocolate ration and having a stroll on a warm summer day made him happy, of course, but it was only with Maria that he was able to feel truly happy. It was only when he held her in his arms did he once again feel a sense of love that had long become estranged to him. In their long, meaningful embrace, the two could not help but smile so warmly and joyfully like they never had before. He loved her with all his heart, he loved her so much more than what words could describe; she was his and his alone. No matter what he did, she was there to love him even when he was less than loving. Only with her did Alexei remember what it meant to love and to be loved, only with her did Alexei remain sane. It seemed as though everything else in his life got him down. Life in Soviet Russia is miserable at best and devastating at worst. The evil, odious institution they called the government controlled everything; every industry and every store, every piece of writing and history, every individual and every collective; every thought, every word, every feeling, every emotion; everything belonged to the Party, for there was nothing but the Party. It was no wonder that life was so terrible, no wonder why Alexei wanted nothing more than to get out.
With their coffees in hand, Alexei and Maria made their way to the balcony, strangely admiring the bland, depressing urban Russian landscape with a sort of curious and disgusted air. They watched the beautiful, colourful sunset together in awe, watching the sun change the grey, cloudy sky into a plethora of colours. Alexei watched it with a sort of amazement. He found it to be so fascinating that, at the end of the day, despite how cloudy and dark the day had been, the sun always seemed to prevail, returning light and hope to the land in a lovely show of striking colours. And even when the darkness of night returned once again, the sun always arose in triumph the very next morning. The darkness arose, the light to meet it. It comforted Alexei, giving him a sense of hope. For however dark his days may be, the light will, one day, return. And, indeed, how dark his days currently were. He thought of his father, a kind and always so joyful and jolly man, a man with a tremendous heart with a burning fire of determination that never burnt out. He was a moral man that never gave up on what he believed in, who was willing to fight to his death with everything he had to defend what was right. And, indeed, it was to his death for which he fought for the common good. Fifteen years ago, while Alexei was only ten years of age, the monthly rations had been cut in half because of the war. As a result of this, families began starving and dying. Overwhelmed with the pain of watching his fellow human beings starve before his very eyes, he shared what little rations he had left with everyone he could so that they might go on to live just one more day. When the rations eventually ran out, Alexei’s father attacked the patrols and Red Army personnel to steal whatever he could. Three days later, a squadron of Red Army soldiers came knocking at their door. They dragged his father and mother out into the hall of their apartment block, abusing them and torturing them. Just as Alexei turned the corner to see his parents lying on the ground, two bellowing gunshots rang out. And just like that, it was all over.
Suddenly, a terrifying scream bellowed to the right of them. Frightened, Alexei and Maria turned their heads to watch the situation unfold. The scream came from a little girl, about thirteen, clinging on to her father in a sense of pure terror. They were surrounded by two Red Army patrols, their guns were drawn. The girl’s father begged desperately for mercy, but the stone-faced guards never batted an eyelid. With one rack of the bolt and a shot heard around the world, the girl’s father slumped to the ground, lifeless. The girl fell to her knees in tears, weeping over her father’s body. The patrols simply split off and carried on with their duties; how heartless they were to continue on as if nothing happened. There, Alexei and Maria stood, staring in mute witness. Maria ran back into the apartment unit with tears streaming down her cheeks, her heart shattered and her mind scarred at what she just saw. Alexei remained on the balcony, staring at the scene. He was furious, his heart was burning with rage like how a fire ravages through a forest. He wanted nothing more than to take the lives of those men, for he saw much of himself in the girl. Everything had been taken from him, taken by the hand of the treacherous Red Army. It was at this moment that he knew exactly what he had to do. He had to take Maria and get out of the USSR, for he could no longer live in the nation that took everything from him. Immediately, Alexei ran back into his apartment unit and shut the glass doors of the balcony. Maria, still traumatized by the incident, looked up at Alexei in confusion. ‘Alexei? What are you doing’ Maria asked, her voice still slightly shaky. Alexei ignored her, continuing on with his task. At the speed of lightning, Alexei dug through countless upon countless drawers and piles of paper, looking relentlessly for one particular document. He dug through financial records and birth certificates, state letters and brochures, propaganda posters and personal letters. Finally, after many minutes of searching, he found it.
Alexei gently pulled out a small sheet of paper from the bottom of his desk drawer. It was a piece of propaganda defection material dropped by the British Empire ten years ago during the Second World War. The poster was originally meant to demoralize and weaken the German forces in Moscow and Stalingrad, however, a few leaflets must have overshot the target and landed in Nizhny Novgorod. As soon as it fell to the ground, its stark colours and beautiful symbols immediately caught Alexei’s attention. It was a small, yet colourful sheet of creamy paper with the word ‘CANADA’ imprinted along the top in large, black letters. Directly below it was a vibrant painting of a beautiful city, one that Alexei did not recognize, however much he admired it over the blocky, run-down structure of his own. At the bottom of the page was the text ‘TORONTO,’ a name Alexei assumed to be the name of the city pictured. Finally, above it all was a grand banner coloured in a captivating shade of scarlet, defaced with the Union Jack in one corner and some form of a shield in the other.2 Alexei held the poster out in front of himself and admired it with a smile. Soon enough, Maria put her arm around Alexei’s shoulder and looked down at the poster with him. ‘What’s this?’ Maria asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. There was silence for a few short moments before Alexei turned to look at her, a smile present on his face. ‘I found this poster many years ago,’ he began. ‘It’s a poster from Canada.’ Alexei turned back to the poster for a few moments, almost idolizing it with an admirable air. ‘It’s a beautiful land, isn’t it?’ ‘Yes, it is,’ Maria answered, sharing in her partner’s amiability. Alexei set the poster onto a nearby table and turned back to Maria, picking her hands up and holding them tightly in his. ‘Dear, we have to move there. We can’t stay here anymore. You saw what happened out there,’ Alexei began in a hopeful tone. ‘I know it will be hard, but if we save up our money, make a plan, and work hard enough, we might just make it.’ Maria paused, worried and deep in thought. After a few short moments of thought, she spoke. ‘Are you sure, darling? What could happen to us?’ Alexei felt Maria beginning to shake out of fear and worry. He held her hands tighter as if to comfort her. ‘I don’t know what will happen to us, dear. Anything could happen,’ he began, ‘but in Canada, there is freedom. If we get away from here, we will be free, and we can make whatever life we wish for ourselves if only we work hard enough. It will be dangerous, but it’s worth it. What do you say?’ Maria took a long pause, staring at the ground. Like Alexei, she wanted nothing more than to leave her life in the USSR behind for good, but even still, she worried for their safety. After all, she had reason to be worried. The Soviet Union had great punishments for emigrants; people they deemed to be no more than traitors to the Motherland. However, this was their only chance at a better life. Nevertheless, the promise and guarantee of freedom that life in Canada would bring were much too strong to resist. ‘Okay, dear, I trust you,’ Maria answered, finally, Alexei smiled at her in a warm sense of joy. ‘Thank you, darling. I knew you’d never pass up such an opportunity,’ he said. He held Maria in a long, loving embrace, motivated by a newfound sense of faith, hope, and optimism they have never felt before.
The two spent the rest of that fateful evening drawing up an elaborate plan. They would first need to work hard in their current jobs, saving up the little money they collectively make. Then, in many years time, they must use their work leave granted by the government and acquire a travel permit that would allow them to travel to Moscow, then to Prague in Czechoslovakia, and finally to East Berlin, in the German Democratic Republic. In the darkness of night, they ought to cross over into West Berlin, before finally boarding a plane to London. Once in London, they had to acquire the appropriate documents from the Canadian Embassy that would allow them to immigrate to Canada under ’Soviet Defector’ status. Finally, they would board a plane to Toronto.
Over the next five years, Alexei and Maria began a long, often terrible and undoubtedly extremely difficult campaign to make and save whatever money they could. The two worked countless upon countless strenuous and extremely physically demanding hours late into the night, Maria in the factories and Alexei at the nuclear power plant just to make a few extra rubles in overtime pay. Oftentimes, however unhealthy it may have been, Alexei pushed himself to the point of dangerous exposure to the radiation just so he could gain those extra hours. Outside of their normal jobs, they took up completing odd jobs such as cleaning and repairing machines for anybody they could find, from regular neighbours and working folk to even the officers of the Red Army patrols (although Alexei was sure to silently curse and mock them each time they turned their backs.) This arduous routine came at a tremendous cost, however. The two had to sacrifice countless luxuries and things that they would otherwise not have been able to live without. What pained them the most, however, was that the jobs consumed the entirety of their free time, which meant the two scarcely got to see each other. They would only ever get to see each other once or twice a year if they were lucky. This deeply saddened both of them, shattering their hearts into a million pieces as though they had just stood the siege of Stalingrad. Even still, they cherished the times they got to meet so dearly and made the most of one another’s company, even if it were for only mere hours at a time. Over those terrible five years, it was nothing but their unconditional, undying love for one another that constantly gave them that little inkling of hope and motivation to fight another day. It was the thought of and love for one another that gave their lives some form of meaning in a time where everything had seemed meaningless. It was that little warm feeling that struck the hearts of the two whenever they thought of one another that pushed them further when it had all seemed hopeless. And it was their burning desire, their noble dream of freedom and liberty that gave them the slightest edge to keep calm and carry on in their relentless pursuit of happiness. How magical it was, that nothing more than everlasting love and faceless devotion could drive an individual to accomplish such things he would have never thought possible.
Five years later, the two had finally saved up just enough money for their escape, as well as to support their new life in Canada for the first six months; one million Soviet rubles.3 Things were starting to look a lot brighter. The next day, they woke in the darkness of night and collectively packed everything they could into three suitcases and a small backpack. Maria packed as much clothing as they could stuff into the suitcases, while Alexei scoured for important documents like passports and identification, their work vacation permits, the rubles, any canned food rations and water they would need on their journey, and small personal belongings, packing them into his backpack. On that note, he made special notice not to forget the small blue velvet ring box that his father had used to propose to his mother all those years ago. At the very moment of daybreak, they were ready to go. Excitedly, they slipped on their coats, gloves, and other accessories (including Alexei’s signature flat cap.) Finally, their suitcases in hand, the two of them left Alexei’s dreaded apartment unit for good. As soon as they pushed their way through the glass doors of their apartment block and out into the street, Alexei thew the key to his apartment as hard as he could into the nearby lake, guaranteeing that the two would never ever return to this place that they despised with such a tremendous hatred.
Immediately, Alexei and Maria made their way far across the city to the Soviet government offices to acquire the necessary travel permits. The towering steel building stretched hundreds of metres into the air, its walls decorated with long, draping banners that were marked with the Communist Party insignia and upon its roof flew a giant flag of the Soviet Union multiple metres across. They greeted the stone-faced guards at the door with a patriotic, yet underlyingly mocking salute before entering the tall steel building. As they pushed through the door, they were greeted by a long, well-lighted stone hallway with a velvety red carpet that stretched from end to end. At the very end of the hallway was a large reception table that sat below a gigantic golden mural of the hammer and sickle marked on the wall. Alexei immediately noticed how significantly better the conditions of the offices were as compared to those of the citizens, a testament to the blatant hypocrisy of the Soviet Union.
Side by side, Alexei and Maria strode down the hall with a sense of confidence in their strides and approached the reception table. Almost robotically, the two greeted the receptionist in the standard greeting used for all Party members. ‘Glory to the Soviet Union!’ they saluted. The receptionist remained unmoved, not even looking up or acknowledging Alexei and Maria who stood in front of them. After a few moments, he looked up with a piercing look in his eyes and spoke in a robotic, monotone voice. ‘What is your purpose of coming here?’ he asked. ‘We are here to acquire travel permits for our work leave,’ Alexei responded. ‘Papers, please,’ the receptionist ordered. Alexei reached into his backpack and pulled out the two work leave permits, as well as their passports. He sat them gently onto the table and slid them across to the receptionist, who looked over the documents to ensure everything was in order. ‘Where will you be going?’ the receptionist asked. ‘Moscow first, then Prague, and finally East Berlin,’ Maria replied. ‘How much do you have on you?’ ‘One-hundred thousand ruble, sir,’ they lied. ‘How long will your trip be?’ ‘Just fourteen days.’ The receptionist nodded and continued to analyze the documents. Finally, after a few moments, the receptionist pushed a red button and printed two travel permits, sliding them across the table to the couple. ‘Cause no trouble. Glory to the Soviet Union,’ the receptionist said. ‘Glory to the Soviet Union!’ the two echoed, saluting once again before marching out of the office.
The two then made their way to the Nizhny Novgorod Train Station. They handed the travel permits and their passports to the ticket-master, who stamped the documents and handed them back. Within a few hours, they were on the train to Moscow, and then to Prague. During their transfer layover in Prague, Alexei looked around and admired the beautiful Prussian style buildings, much different to the blocky Soviet-style towers of Nizhny Novgorod. At the same time, his blood was brought to a boil each time he saw them, as the elegant Germanic buildings, symbols of a much simpler and better time in history, were all defaced and vandalized in some way by the insignia or crimson banners of the Soviet Union. Early the next morning, they checked out of their government-provided inn and boarded the train to East Berlin. The customs were much tougher along this journey, as the German Democratic Republic had not yet been fully absorbed into the USSR. Nonetheless, the two got through the border checkpoint with little trouble at all (although some of their fellow passengers had not been quite as lucky.)
As soon as they had arrived in East Berlin, Alexei and Maria rented bicycles from a local vendor that set up shop near the train station to capture the attention of tourists and visitors from all over Europe. Side by side, the two spent the afternoon riding across the city. Unlike Prague, East Berlin was terribly ugly. All the buildings, monuments, and other structures; the last remaining symbols of the glorious city Berlin once was lay in complete ruins, still left destroyed from the war even after almost twenty years; a symbol of how destructive the treacherous storm of war truly is. And yet again, atop the few structures that still remained, there flew the terrible red ensign of the Soviet Union, which angered and greatly frustrated Alexei as the terrible banner seemed to follow him everywhere he went. The two of them cycled through the populated, bustling streets, past the hundreds of thousands of hurried workers, ordinary citizens, and police officers riding along on their bikes or walking briskly to escape the bitter cold, looking around and attempting to imagine what the beautiful city Berlin once was had looked like all those years ago. Finally, they had reached their destination; the Brandenburg Gate. They cycled past the gigantic portrait of Stalin, decorated with Soviet insignia and red banners all around as if he were among the divine, a sight that angered the two significantly. Then, they rode past a big white sign. Printed upon the wooden sign were the words ‘You are now leaving the Soviet Sector,’ first in Russian, then in English, and lastly in French. As they passed under the ruined gate, they were greeted by yet another sign, this time with English rather than Russian printed at the top. It read ’Now entering British sector.’4 And just like that, it was almost as if Alexei and Maria had crossed into a whole other world. The monuments and buildings lay not among the heavy rubble, but rebuilt and restored to their former glory. Cars bustled through the streets and citizens strolled along the pavements peacefully and lightly. What made Alexei most happy, however, was that there was not a single piece of Soviet insignia or even a Soviet flag that flew in this sector of the city. Rather, atop all the buildings flew the black, red, and gold German ensign, as well as the beautiful blue, white, and red Union Jack. Alexei felt himself almost tumbling over onto his knees as he watched the banner flap around in the strong breeze in all its glory. They had finally done it; they were in West Berlin; they were out of the Soviet Union.
As much as Alexei would have wanted to stay to admire and experience the British sector of Berlin for all that it was, they simply had no time. They had to keep going whatever the cost may be. As soon as they passed under the gate, they turned themselves north and headed to Berlin’s Tegel Airport in the French sector.5 Hurriedly, they parked their bikes outside and rushed into the airport terminal, making their way over to the British Overseas Airways6 booth. In what little English he knew, Alexei began to converse with the attendant seated behind the counter, who immediately greeted him with a smile. ‘Hello!’ Alexei began in a bright, heavy Russian accent. ‘Good day, sir! What can I do for you today?’ the attendant asked. ‘I’d like two tickets to London on the flight that leaves as soon as possible, please,’ Alexei answered slowly, struggling to gather his words and translate them into English. ‘Of course!’ the attendant began. ‘May I have some documents?’ Alexei set his backpack down onto the ground and unzipped the front pocket, reaching in to produce the two Soviet passports. He handed them over to the attendant, who almost immediately sent them back. ‘Sir, I’m sorry,’ she began in a sad tone, ‘but travel by Russian residents in and out of Berlin is highly prohibited by order of the Soviet government. Alexei paused, frustrated at how he could have forgotten. But they had made it so far, he was not about to turn back now. He reached into his backpack and produced a large sum of money, in a last ditch effort to get through, knowing that jobs in Berlin, however interesting or exciting they may be, never pay well (at least according to British standards.) Without saying a word, he discretely slid the sum of money over to the attendant, who was visibly torn between letting someone she knew to be a defector running away from the terrible Soviet government through and disobey protocol or to deny him and likely send the two of them back to their impending doom. After a few moments, she took the money and continued on with processing their ticket as if nothing had happened. ‘Your total is one thousand, five hundred Deutsche Marks, or fifty-five thousand Soviet as I assume,’ the attendant said. Almost immediately, Alexei paid the sum of money, and within two minutes was handed the two boarding passes for their flight to London. Alexei gave the attendant a thankful nod, who whispered ‘Good luck’ under her breath as the two made their way towards their gate. Within just fifteen minutes upon boarding the plane, they had liftoff and were on their way to London. Alexei gazed out the window that sat to the right of his seat, fascinated by the passing clouds high above. Things had most definitely begun to look much better for the two of them.
Upon landing in London and clearing customs, Alexei exchanged some of the money into Pound Sterling and flagged a taxi to take him and Maria to the Office of the High Commission for Canada in Central London. Upon entering the elegant, historical Canada House, they were greeted by two receptionists who, upon understanding their situation, guided them into a special room where a Canadian ambassador would meet with them to hear their case. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, the ambassador and his personal translator made their way into the room and shut the door behind them, greeting the two Soviets with a warm smile before sitting down across the table in front of them. Alexei was relieved to have a translator present, as he would no longer need to stumble upon his translations and would be able to explain himself properly. ‘Good evening,’ the ambassador began. ‘What brings you here to London today?’ The translator immediately echoed the words to the two in Russian. ‘We would like to claim Soviet defector status, sir,’ Alexei answered, the translator relaying his response. ‘Ahh, of course. We get many such cases here,’ the ambassador stated. ‘Do not worry, we will take good care of you here. You’ll be on a flight to Canada in no time.’ Upon hearing the relay from the translator, Maria turned towards Alexei with a tremendous smile on her face, speaking countless upon countless excited exclamations. Alexei began to laugh, overwhelmed with a warm sense of happiness and joy. And the two men who sat across the table from them could not help but smile themselves, for how happy and excited the two were just to hear that they might have the chance of making it to Canada would have warmed the heart of even the most heartless of individuals.
Over the next six months, the two stayed in a small, yet glamorous and elegant bedroom in the upper levels of the Canada House as their case was being heard and their documents processed away in Ottawa. Finally, on that one bright and fateful day, the long-awaited news had finally arrived. They had been accepted! They were going to Canada! Alexei and Maria could not help but jump for joy, overwhelmed with a pure sense of jubilation. Maria even fell to her knees and burst into tears of joy! It was truly a glorious day for the both of them. Immediately, they packed their bags and bid farewell to the countless staff at the Office of the High Commission, who had treated them excellently during their six-month stay. Then, they were driven to the airport and were immediately put on a flight to Toronto, Canada. As they landed in Canada, Alexei gazed out of the window over the beautiful Canadian landscape with a smile on his face, deep in thought. They had finally done it; they were in Canada. How so terribly happy and thankful he was to be here. It was a sense that could not be put into words, for every language in the world was far too limited in fully describing that overwhelming sense of joy that had become known to Alexei in that very moment.
The year is 1959. It was a dark, frigid August day in Toronto, Canada, and the clocks were just striking six. The solid concrete roads bustled throughout the night with hundreds of cars moving to and fro, hurriedly attempting to make their way home after a long day at work before the daily rush hour begins. The elegant yet mighty stone and glass buildings towered high above the city piercing the clouds, their bright and vivid lights giving the city’s charming skyline a captivating glow. With a smile on his face and a special warmness in his heart, Alexei slipped on his long navy-blue trench coat and his signature grey flat cap, kissing his beloved girlfriend goodbye before heading out. He pushed through the clear glass doors of his hotel lobby and into the bustling streets of Toronto, eager to purchase some dinner to take back to the hotel room for him and Maria. As he strode along the pavements of Yonge Street, he looked around the city in awe. He remembered the bright poster that he held in his hand all those years ago, the poster of a beautiful, bustling city and a captivating Canadian crimson ensign that flew above it all. Finally, he was really here, and how beautiful it was indeed.
Swiftly, Alexei made his way down the street, stopping at a small local Fish and Chips stand to purchase some dinner. Within just a couple minutes, he was carrying the two piping-hot take-out boxes of fish and chips back to the hotel room. As he marched along the pavement, he noticed a small, cozy music store filled to the brim with records of all sorts. What captured his attention the most, however, was a single record that sat on display in the store’s window alongside a newly released record player model. The record was wrapped in a striking paper sleeve, marked with a vivid painting of the same vibrant scarlet banner he had seen on his poster, as well as atop every towering building in Canada. Below the painting were the words ’THE MAPLE LEAF FOREVER by ALEXANDER MUIR,’7 imprinted in an enchanting shade of bright red ink. It struck Alexei with such a valiant curiosity that he instantly ran into the store to purchase it. Carrying the paper bag of fish in one hand and the record in the other, Alexei pushed through the doors of the hotel lobby and strolled through the bright, elegant hallway of his hotel floor before delivering three gentle knocks onto the door of his hotel room. Within seconds, Maria opened the door and hugged Alexei tightly as if he had been gone for years. She slipped off Alexei’s coat and hat, hanging them up in the closet, and followed Alexei to the small table that sat by a big window at the edge of the hotel room, overlooking the luminous, bustling city in the darkness yet striking colours of the waning evening. The two sat down at the table and unpacked their dinners, gazing out the window and admiring the beautiful sky that blasted in a vibrant explosion of colour by the hand of the setting sun. Alexei remembered when he and Maria had stood on their balcony in Nizhny Novgorod admiring the same sun. It was curious for him to think that the sun and the sky were the same for everybody, in Canada and in the USSR. And the people below that sky were also very much one of the same, people subjugated to pointless hatred of one another by their terrible governments and faceless politicians that have not even a subtle regard for their own citizens. How sad it was that such places existed, and how grateful Alexei was to have been freed from such atrocious circumstances. As they looked out into the brilliant evening sky, they began to realize how far they have come, what freedom really felt like. The sun had finally returned; the light had at last returned to their lives of darkness. But, even still, they knew they still had much to do, that there was still much work left undone. The two of them sat in silence, gazing out at the bustling city, deep in thought. They knew that it is only through work, work, and more hard work; through faceless devotion to the responsibilities that have been entrusted to them will they be able to face the countless challenges that lie ahead of them, for their victory is but past won, only half won. They are free, but only if they work hard enough will they be able to build the life that they want for themselves; to become the people they truly want to be. After all, only then will they be able to fully break themselves free of the bondage they have been set into, for the USSR had no tolerance for individualism, forcing people to live the lives that have been set out to them. It is only through this one final act of defiance that they will be able to fully break themselves free of the Soviet Union’s treacherous tyranny. The two turned to look at each other simultaneously, looking into each other’s sparkling eyes. With not a single word said, they smiled at each other, knowing immediately what they had to do.
After their meal, Alexei stood up and wandered over to his backpack. He unzipped an inner pocket of the backpack, pulling out the small ring box wrapped in a dark blue velvet material that within it contained his father’s shiny golden engagement ring which he had gifted to Alexei shortly before his death. He approached Maria, who had stood up from her chair to get a better view of the luminous city. His heart began pounding intensely, his mind began racing, his legs shivering nervously, but still remembering the warmness she brought to his heart. Finally, after a few deep breaths, he spoke. ‘Maria?’ he said, his voice shaky but firm. Maria turned around to face him, walking up to him with a smile on her face. He put her arms on her shoulders and smiled back at her lovingly. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ ‘Yes! I’m so happy we’re here, dear!’ Maria responded, enthusiastically. ‘I’m happy too,’ Alexei began, ‘but, there’s one more thing.’ Alexei took his hands off Maria’s shoulders, lowered himself to one knee, and drew the ring from his back pocket. Stunned and overwhelmed with happiness, Maria covered her mouth with shock as she begun to cry tears of joy. ‘Maria Limanskaya, my dear. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?’ Maria remained with her head over her mouth, speechless. After a few moments, she spoke. ‘Y-yes, yes!’ she exclaimed. Immediately, she pulled Alexei to his feet and hugged him tighter than she ever did before. ‘I love you, dear!’ she cried. ‘I love you too!’ Alexei replied, smiling so happily and joyfully like he never had before.
A few hours later, Maria fell asleep in the bed. Alexei, who had been lying next to her, slowly pulled away from the covers and made his way over to the hotel room desk where he had previously set the record he purchased down. He picked up the record and held the rough, creamy paper in his hands, somewhat taken away in a weird sense of deep thought as he admired the painting of the scarlet ensign. Then, with the lightest possible hand, he pulled the black vinyl record out of its sleeve, careful not to scratch or damage the disc in any way. Finally, he set the record gently onto the turntable of the old, dilapidated, yet somehow still functioning record player that sat in his hotel room, pulling the needle slowly to rest on the spinning record. After a few seconds of the static cracking sound, the beautiful music slowly made from the record player, like how an orchestra swells on a glorious crescendo. It started first with a slow, honourable roll of the snare drum, followed by a gracious piano instrumental. Alexei closed his eyes, appreciating the gorgeous harmony. As he sat listening to the musical piece, he began to remember the countless times where the terrible song of the Soviet Union had blared out through the loudspeakers, torturing him with its terrible beauty. With this song, however, he did not feel the same way. As soon as the first sound had emerged from the record player, he had immediately fallen in love. There was something so special about this song, something that stood out to Alexei over all other things. To all Canadians, the Maple Leaf Forever was their forever treasured national song. To Alexei, however, the song meant something much, much more. The song was a symbol of freedom, a symbol of the unconditional, undying love he harboured his dear home. As he thought about this, he could not help but produce the brightest, warmest smile he had ever made. He fought hard to contain the tears, but to no avail, for the tears of pure joy streamed down his cheeks.
The concluding piano instrumental gave way to the sound of powerful trumpets and stirring vocals. The mesmerizing melody took Alexei into a whole other world as if its enchanting melody had captured all his being. ‘In days of yore, from Britain’s shore. Wolfe, the dauntless hero came! And planted firm Britannia’s flag, on Canada’s fair domain! Here may it wave, our boast our pride! And joined in love together! The thistle, shamrock, rose entwined; The Maple Leaf Forever!’ The last few lines that made up the chorus stirred up every emotion in Alexei’s heart, bringing him to his knees with tears of joy at the hands of the song’s striking beauty. ‘The Maple Leaf, our emblem dear! The Maple Leaf Forever! God Save our King and Heaven Bless; the Maple Leaf Forever!’
After the song, Alexei arose from his seat and strolled over to the dining table and sat at the chair facing the window. Adoringly, he gazed out over the dark streets of Toronto, deep in thought. He thought about his parents, how proud they would have been to see him here. How terribly he wished he could have brought them with him. He thought about his dear fiance, Maria, how overwhelmed with joy and happiness she was to be standing in this country. He thought about all the hard work they had put in over the past five years, and about the treacherous journey they took to make it here. He thought about his new home, and even at that very moment, he knew the True North Strong and Free is where he shall be for the rest of his life. For in the land of the mountains strong and the sparkling snow, of the cool arctic air and the roaring seas, of the bustling cities and endless forests, and where the Maple Leaf soars high above it all, he is free. That made Alexei so tremendously happy beyond what words could describe. He leaned back into his seat and admired the dark city skyline, a bright smile emerging on his face. Happy; that was a way he had not felt in a terribly long time. But finally, he once again knew exactly what that meant. His heart warmed itself, like how a crackling fireplace warms a cold winter room. How great it felt to be happy, how great it felt indeed.
CONTEXT
- The song being referenced is the 1944 version of the Anthem of the Soviet Union, translated and sung in English. (https://tinyurl.com/yyytgavt) (https://tinyurl.com/nbgpv3f)
- The flag being referenced is the Canadian Red Ensign, the flag of Canada prior to 1965 when the flag was changed to the ‘Maple Leaf Flag’ of the modern era.
- One million Soviet ruble is equivalent to about $22,000 Canadian, adjusted for inflation.
- The Berlin Wall was constructed in 1961. Prior to that, the citizens of Berlin were free to move between the different sectors of the city with little to no resistance by authorities on either side.
- By 1959, (the year in which the story is set) the different sectors/occupation zones of Berlin had largely dissolved, becoming the Western-influenced West Berlin and the Soviet-influenced East Berlin. However, for the sake of furthering the plot of the story, it is assumed that the different sectors of Berlin still exist in 1959.
- British Overseas Airways is the precursor company to modern British Airways.
- The song being referenced is ‘The Maple Leaf Forever’ by Alexander Muir, a patriotic song written in 1867, the year of Canadian Confederation. Along with ‘God Save the Queen,’ ‘The Maple Leaf Forever’ was the unofficial anthem of Canada prior to the adoption of ‘O Canada.’ (https://tinyurl.com/y3z7cltn) (https://tinyurl.com/y2vf2c2l) (https://tinyurl.com/yxf8co4m) (https://tinyurl.com/y6jsk2fr)
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