I stared at Dad’s fedora, thankful that at least he’d given up his earrings for a day. Kopylenko, tell why you want exist in United States?” In a version of Russian that made me feel like I was teetering on a balance beam along with her, she said, “Mr. And second, but more important, he always said the wrong thing.
First, he couldn’t complete a sentence without swearing. She didn’t look like someone who held the fate of my family in her hands.īefore the interview that morning, Mom had instructed Dad not to speak, for two reasons. She warmed us now and then with one of those smiles that make you want to ask its owner to be your child’s godparent even if you’ve only just met. I studied her with interest: perfectly manicured nails, killer perm, and a beige pantsuit with the American embassy ID clipped to the left breast pocket. The woman on the other side of the desk scribbled in her files. The event also features dancing and live music. She reads from and discusses her book 2 p.m. Her book, “American Gypsy: A Memoir,” is being published this month by FSG Originals.
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