The title of the book is dictated by a personal attitude towards the relatively short but very significant period of the author’s work in the camps of the USSR Ministry of Internal Affairs. In his declining years, a seriously ill man shares his memories of the enormous role that work in the so-called Gulag played in his long and long life. These are stories that, despite health problems throughout his life and the fact that he has looked into the face of death more than once, he considers himself a happy person, because he was brought up in the best traditions of the Soviet village and was lucky to have good people all his life. people.