Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets Read Online Free

elderly was so long, just thinking about it is enough to give you a lump in your throat. Some of them hid their faces. By then, we’d had two children. We were literally starving. My wife and I became peddlers. We’d pick up four or six cases of ice cream at the factory and take them down to the market, to the most crowded spot. We had no refrigeration, so a few hours in, all the ice cream would be melting. At that point, we’d give it away to hungry kids. They were so happy! My wife did the selling. I’d deliver it, haul it—I was willing to do anything but actually make sales. It felt uncomfortable for a long time.

    There was a time when I’d often reminisce about our kitchen days…There was so much love! What women! Those women hated the rich. You couldn’t buy them. Today, no one has time for feelings, they’re all out making money. The discovery of money hit us like an atom bomb…
    ON HOW WE FELL IN AND THEN OUT OF LOVE WITH GORBY
    —The Gorbachev era…Huge crowds of people with radiant faces. Freedom! It was the air we breathed. Everyone hungrily devoured the newspapers. It was a time of great hope—at any moment, we might find ourselves in paradise. Democracy was an exotic beast. Like madmen, we’d run around to every rally: Now we’d learn the truth about Stalin, the gulag. We’d read Anatoly Rybakov’s forbidden Children of the Arbat *6 and other good books; finally, we’d all become democrats. How wrong we were! A single message rang out from every loudspeaker: Hurry! Hurry! Read! Listen! Not everyone was prepared for all this. Most people were not anti-Soviet; they only wanted to live well. They really wanted blue jeans, VCRs, and most of all, cars. Nice clothes and good food. When I came home with a copy of The Gulag Archipelago, my mother was horrified. “If you don’t get that book out of my house immediately, I’m kicking you out.” Before the war, my grandmother’s husband had been shot, but she would say, “I don’t feel sorry for Vaska. They were right to arrest him. He had a big mouth.” “Grandma, why didn’t you tell me before?” I’d ask her. “I hope that my life dies along with me so none of you will have to suffer the consequences.” That’s how our parents lived, and their parents before them. Then it was all bulldozed over. Perestroika wasn’t created by the people, it was created by a single person: Gorbachev. Gorbachev and a handful of intellectuals…

    —Gorbachev is an American secret agent…a freemason…He betrayed communism. “All communists to the trash heap, all Komsomol members to the dump!” I hate Gorbachev because he stole my Motherland. I treasure my Soviet passport like it’s my most precious possession. Yes, we stood in line for discolored chicken and rotting potatoes, but it was our Motherland. I loved it. You lived in a third world country with missiles, but for me, it was a great nation. The West has always seen Russia as an enemy, a looming threat. It’s a thorn in their side. Nobody wants a strong Russia, with or without the communists. The world sees us as a storehouse that they can raid for oil, natural gas, timber, and base metals. We trade our oil for underpants. But we used to be a civilization without rags and junk. The Soviet civilization! Someone felt the need to put an end to it. The CIA…We’re already being controlled by the Americans…They must have paid Gorbachev a tidy sum. Sooner or later, he’ll see his day in court. I just hope that that Judas lives to feel the brunt of his nation’s rage. I would gladly take him out to the Butovo Firing Range *7 and shoot him in the back of the skull myself. [ Slams his fist down on the table. ] Happiness is here, huh? Sure, there’s salami and bananas. We’re rolling around in shit and eating foreign food. Instead of a Motherland, we live in a huge supermarket. If this is freedom, I don’t need it. To hell with it! The people are on their knees. We’re a nation of slaves.