~ From OCTOBER 2004 ~
My Uncle inhabited the sometimes-shade underside of American life – the behind-the-scenes lower-level of the mythologically caste-free system of the United States. I heard him saying, “This country is fucking shit” one moment, then extolling the possibilities and potential the next. He worked hard for what amounted to rather little. Much of it went to his kids back home. America would never be home for him.
Until he could save up enough money and return a raging success, he dwelled in the hidden recesses of high society. He and my Aunt worked for a Senator, entertained at dinners for Hillary Clinton and the Dalai Lama, but none of it seemed to impress my Uncle. He was happy blending into the background, smoking with the other workers in the garage or behind the house. It was a world I found fascinating, as a child, and far more fun than the formal dinner parties and stiff adult talk that sometimes surrounded me.
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