The last militant was an agitator that carried the revolution within his vital fluids of life. Grandson of Sicilian and Polish Immigrants, a swamp yankee from rural Rhode Island. His massive chest was much too small for his heart. Each comrade he took into that massive heart and there they found a home. A real Bolshevik and for all his vanguard socialism his love was deeply personal. He took into his existence with balanced devotion the request for a world without pauperism, starvation and hopelessness. He struggled for a world with equality, democracy and commitment to a common humanity. He marched with pride with into each fray and with each struggle he advanced in notability. The resurgence of V. I. Lenin was the inhalation of eventfulness he walked with as he lived his daily life. His life and his consciousness were but the vessel for the cause of the poor.
He strove into the night with resistance of the people's insurrection, which he carried like a small child gently in his arms of love. His bones and sinew were acceded to the assignment. With each worn misgiving he started afresh the endeavor and the responsibility of returning to the cause of equality.
He lived each day surrounded by that caress of love, but died alone. His final act on the day set side to celebrate women of the world was his only selfish deed. Now to far to draw him back he shattered everyone's life with his final act of defiance. "If what and if only" remains on everyone's mind, his last sensation of lonely pain and the final sound that screamed and shattered the night. We all are now a little more a lone and remember the early morning International Women's Day Seventeen years ago, a single act of lonely desperation that changed for ever everyone who loved this lonely man. We are all more complete because he walked our way. In know not who to say this to. So I will only say to this Last of the Bolsheviks we did truly love you though painfully not enough. Today I say thank you for being in my life.
Good by comrade.
Michael Joseph Francisconi (Papa Sconi)
Comrade, Fellow Worker, Campesino
All Wealth is Theft