BETWEEN FEELINGS AND REASON

April 1978 Timisoara, Romania

It was a usual April day in Timisoara, Romania. Even though the snow had melted more than a month before, the Town of Flowers still carried the mark of winter. I expected the Banat region, and especially Timisoara, to look very different from other cities in the country, but this spring, the streets, the buildings, and even the parks needed more retouching to confirm their places of honor. It is said that "Banat is the forehead," but for this year, "habit is second nature" seemed a better description. This city had the power to capture the imagination of any visitor, worker, or seeker of adventure. The climate, the school, the jobs, the housing, and the western border were chief among the reasons it attracted many people. My first year in Timisoara was 1978.

The Park of Roses, the Green Forest, the Bega Canal, the private markets, and the farms in Banat tried to tie me every day to them with many strings, as well as to the nation I was raised in. Before that, I left Brasov with great difficulty. It was a town I never expected to leave, blessed with strong industry, a breathtaking mountain setting, and many impressive tourist sites. I would exchange it only for the Western world, where I had dreamed of going one day. Before that, it was difficult for me to leave Suceava, the place where I saw the daylight for the first time. It was home to my parents, grandparents, five brothers, six sisters, nephew, and many friends and colleagues.

Reading my Bible, I realized that when God told Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac, God's reason and Abraham's feelings were in conflict. For the time being, like Abraham, I had to follow reason and ignore my feelings in the service of a greater good.

I got to Timisoara carried by a dream and a desire. I was close to the border, very happy in a way. I had dreamed of a life in the West, but at the same time, the thought of not seeing my country again soon, if ever, troubled me deeply. What bothered me most was the thought of leaving my wife and children behind. Try as I might, I couldn't shake the belief that through my inaction, I was assisting at the funeral service for my most wonderful memories and dreams.

I had made the decision to leave Romania many years before. I dreamed of completely changing my destiny and that of my whole family. I had dedicated that year to the great risks and trials of leaving the country. I forced myself to face the reality of choosing between a new life outside the country and accepting the life I had in Romania, with all its needs, discontents, troubles, and compromises.

For most of the families in my home country, money, fairly earned, hardly lasted from one payday to the next. In Timisoara, as well as in the whole country, we faced crises of all kinds, including food crises. People waited in line to get meat, flour, and oil. We waited in lines at the convenience store, the drug store, and the doctor. We lined up for the bus and even to get a gas cylinder.

Despite all the challenges, Timisoara was a beautiful town, yet many people were still living with the desire to leave the country. We all knew that life in the West was easier. We knew that wages were much better and goods were of better quality. It was nothing new to hear that somebody you had never expected to succeed had done just that after he or she crossed the border illegally.

After I got off the bus from Utvin, I got on the first tram heading downtown. Vasile Tepei got on at the first station, Iosefin Square. When he saw me, he came straight to me. Before he even greeted me, as if we were supposed to meet, he assaulted me with a question. "Do you have the photos with you?" he demanded.

I knew that Vasile had connections with somebody who was making passports in Italy. There was the risk that if you were caught, tried, beaten, and condemned to jail, you would also be marked as a traitor for the rest of your life. When Vasile Tepei first talked about this possibility of leaving the country, it had seemed a dream to me.

"I thought you were joking," I said. "You said nothing about photos!"

Leaving the country was the most important topic in every conversation and meeting we had, so I was surprised by his question. Was it meant to remind me of my plan to leave, or was he simply continuing our ongoing conversation about leaving the country?

"Seriously, don't you have the photos? Today is the last day. I have to give them to our connection; he's leaving soon to go to Italy to make the passports."

"I am very serious," I said without hesitation. "But until now, I haven't heard a thing about passport photos."

Vasile worked at the tram factory with Ionel Ciuruc, my brother-in-law. If Vasile had sent any news to me via Ionel, I never got it — or was he just a bigmouth?

"Have you sent me any word about photos?" I continued. This meeting had been completely unplanned.

Vasile just looked at me with equal parts guilt and gravity. I thought it was better just to drop the issue of messages not reaching me. I had more important concerns.

Now I needed passport photos. I was not sure it was even possible to make passport photos without any legal documents related to an eventual foreign visit. "What can I do in this situation? Is there any possibility of urgently making some photos?" I asked him.

"Yes. You can make some photos downtown, right across the street from the Continental Hotel. They make them in two hours. They have a white shirt and a tie," he said in a hurry. The time was passing quicker than we thought.

"I am going there right away. Where can I find you to give you the photos?"

"I am coming with you and will wait until they are ready. Our man leaves today. If he doesn't have your photos, you'll miss the transport."

"Vasile, what are we going to do with my brother Costic? I told you I have to take him with me. I cannot leave him behind. I brought him from Brasov in order to take him with me. Did you know that?"

"I know; don't worry. He is going to leave with the next group. We are a group of eleven people now. I have arranged that we will leave first, together with Ionel and some other men. Next Saturday, the first four of us will leave. Our man, whom I know and trust, will come...