The Baltic Way

A few days ago, I wrote about Vilnius's beautiful old town.  Jason also posted to Facebook about the experience.  Being far more eloquent, I wanted to share his remarks here as well.

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(Post written by Jason Wheeler on September 15, 2021)

 In August 1989, two million people from three different countries stood shoulder to shoulder, hands gripping hands, forming a continuous human chain stretching across Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. For a moment, differences in opinion, politics, class, race, and nationality were laid aside as individuals peacefully united to protest an unjust regime.

Last month we stumbled into this story while climbing through the Gediminas Castle Tower, a 15th-century fort precariously perched on a hilltop in the heart Vilnius. Emerging from a steep winding stone stair onto the third floor of the tower, I found Eli, Annika, and Talia each taking their place in what I assumed to be a traditional cardboard-cutout photo stand-in. Not realizing at first what this stand-in represented, unspoken adjectives like “quaint," “bucolic,” and “pastoral” were soon replaced with a quiet reverence for the beauty of humanity as I read a small placard detailing the history of what is now known as The Baltic Way.

In the early 2000’s, Kęstutis lived with Kara and her family while attending college in America’s heartland. Two decades later, he and his wife Lina and their three amazing children were perfect and gracious hosts to me, Kara, and our family as we discovered the beauty of their country and home.

Having finished reading the description of the Baltic Way, I looked up and asked Lina, who was standing nearby, if she remembered much of what life was like when the Baltics were part of the USSR. “Yes,” she said, a response I had somewhat anticipated. But then she continued with something unanticipated: aware of the planned protest, she and her mother had driven with heavy traffic for hours that August day, hoping to add their will and their voices to those of thousands of their fellow countrymen. Eventually they pulled their car to the side of the highway, took their place in line and, in resounding affirmation of common humanity, grasped hands with strangers who had suddenly become neighbors, friends.

Somewhere between a breath and a heartbeat, the black-and-white cardboard-cutouts became vividly alive and real. For Kes and Lina, this wasn’t just history: this was their story.

Milan, Chamonix, Lyon, Annecy, Nice, Florence… our recent stint through European cities and countryside was surrounded with stunning beauty. For me though, the most beautiful moment happened in an old masonry tower on a hill in Lithuania. There, I was reminded of our divine ability to rise above the daily grind of self-centered survival, to take the hand of our neighbor, and to play our own small part in filling the world with the sublime gift of hope.

55Kim M. Black, Eliza Damstedt and 53 others

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