I remember two brown men moving across the screen of the Trinitron in my father’s den. I remember Joe Frazier’s green shorts. And I remember the grace with which Muhammad Ali danced around his opponent— at least in the first few rounds of the Fight of the Century. I was five in in the spring of 1971 and was seeing my first boxing match.
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While young men like Bernie Sucher and Peter Gerwe were wandering the streets of Moscow in the wild 90s of post-Soviet Russia, taking action on the “What this country needs…” phrase (Bernie co-founded the first American diner and first western-standard health club in Moscow; Peter helped build the country’s first independent TV channel), I was absorbed in my career at Hewlett-Packard and dabbling in less adventurous opportunities.
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The presentation on Wednesday, 27 April was the most intense event on the US tour. Attended by about 40 fans of the Wende Cold War museum, the group was highly educated and very curious (more than half had visited Russia, and about the same number spoke Russian). The Q&A lasted more than 1.5 hours!
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The historical memoir How Not to Become a Spy continues to suffer from an identity crisis. As author Justin Lifflander has commented, the book is a memoir and all events and characters are a part of history. But many people who read it find this hard to believe and claim it is a romantic novel. At the same time, Justin likes to say the story serves as an urgently needed textbook for diplomats and politicians that provides a proven model for how relations between the United States and Russia can be built (rebuilt) and maintained.
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Tel Aviv, Israel (30 March): The presentation of the Russian version of How Not to Become a Spy at the Babel Book Store in Tel Aviv was well received, though Justin failed to convince any of the 20 members of the audience that it’s time to come home. He did, however, manage to justify his actions and explain his immigration to Russia.
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I enjoyed hosting Igor and Yevgeny during their first trip to the United States in the summer of 1991. But I couldn’t understand the topic of their debate during a visit to the Thomas A. Edison rest stop on the New Jersey turnpike.
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Havana, CUBA — Fiery red balls appear intermittently on the horizon, otherwise dark except for the distant twinkle of lights from a ship moving across the Gulf north of Havana. Is Key West being bombed? The trickle of sweat down my back reminds me that it’s 30 sultry degrees here in the garden behind the Hotel Nacional. I conclude that, barring some newfound geopolitical significance to Florida’s archipelago, it is merely heat lightening giving us well-irrigated spectators a free show.
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