Her words sent me skittering back to age 5 1/2, when my twin sister and I were running back-and-forth across the deck of a rocking boat. This would have been our second journey north. Might he have been the tall, dark, glowering stranger with an accent who scolded us once, when we clattered too closely, in his opinion, to the edge? This was long before I would have gained enough comprehension to blurt out, "Good morning, Alexander Isayevich."
In order to verify my sanity and memory, I located a news article from 1975, in The Gettysburg Times. Solzhenitsyn, it turns out, had been homesick for Russia.
My thoughts on Solzhenitsyn are still gathering, but here is an interesting recent blog post on the subject:Josephina reads Solzhenitsyn
It is noteworthy that Solzhenitsyn did NOT end up in Alaska, but rather settled in Vermont. In 1975, Alaska may have been too much of an adventure, even for him.