Dusk was falling on a chilly autumn evening when I heard a knock on the door. It was a neighbor, a man I knew just well enough to give a nod and a wave if I spotted him outside while driving past.
When I turned on the porch light and opened the door, he looked around furtively before blurting, “The FBI just left! They scared the hell out of my wife! They’re asking all kinds of questions about your son!”
Although taken aback, I soon remembered that my son, a new sailor in the U.S. Navy, was learning to be a sonar operator and had told me he was being processed for a high-level security clearance. I was able to send my neighbor home happy, telling him that the G-men, apparently, had just been doing due diligence, making sure my son wasn’t some kind of Russian spy.
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