Dad’s heroes
My father was born in 1918. That birthdate put him squarely in what journalist Tom Brokaw called the Greatest Generation. [...]
16. Spain: Telefonica
The road to Telefonica began with a seemingly benign afternoon walk. My father, restless on a Saturday in September in [...]
15. Spain: O Rey
When two young women behold you standing stark naked and upright in a bathtub, and after their ritual sudsing of [...]
Heaven in the heavens
I once fell for a girl who loved telescopes. Not astronomy or even the cosmos in some youthfully existential sense, [...]
14. Spain: Fallen Salt
When I asked my father why we would be boarding a giant car headed to a place far outside the [...]
Days of aqua pazza
What season of the witch has befallen almost-summer Rome? None that I have ever before encountered. Day after day, now [...]
13. Spain: Batido boy
Oh, how I loved Calle de Serrano, the nearest bustling boulevard to our house on Calle de Nunez de Balboa. [...]
12. Spain: To catch Entonces
I have lizards to thank for teaching me to accept loss and disappointment on a daily basis. They taught me [...]
The power of sound
When I moved to New York after a decade in Italy to go to graduate school, working with audio was [...]
11. Spain: Matalo!
Even before we left for Spain, murmurings about this “thing” known as Catholicism had taken up residence in our Washington [...]