My goal, unmet, was to write a piece on being the grandson of an immigrant, on what it meant to grow up with a combined sense of where you come from and where you are, and to wrap it all up in a big American flag and bring it on home for Independence Day.
Instead what you're about to read is a true story of Slavic accents and grilled meat, cold beer, Lucky Strikes, and a stick of dynamite...
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