By denis-design

Coming Out of the Mob as an Ally, One Awkward Moment at a Time

I knew better but I didn’t do better. The year: 1970, I’m eighteen and married to Stan’s daughter, Nancy, having “gotten her pregnant.” Stan is long gone now and I miss him. But in 1970 he was a white-collar GM guy who absorbed, as we all do, the how-to-get-along-with-the-white-mob view of black people.