Observations of the former Enemy Number One from Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti western headquarters, hidden away in the heart of the American Middle West.
Despite my Russian nom de plume, I was born a not-quite-poor black child in the not-quite-yet integrated South of the United States. My mother was a maid for rich white folks; my mother's mother was a maid for rich white folks; my father was a veteran of a segregated unit in WWII who worked like a galley slave to keep his family fed and sheltered; and my father's father was a big, rough-hewn self-reliant farmer from whom my father learned his work ethic.
I became an engineer because in our day, that was what respectable Negroes did.
Bad idea.
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