Summary
A FEW YEARS AGO, as I was flying home from the midwest following a book tour I had just completed, I looked out the window as the jet began its slow descent over Newark Airport. There, far below, I saw wide bursts of light: greens, yellows, reds. They were, of course, fireworks. I was returning home on the 4th of July, flying over Warren, Morris and then Essex counties.
Town after town was celebrating Independence Day with fireworks. The odd part was that these exploded in silence. Sitting in my seat in the jet I could not, of course, hear the booms and bangs, or the roar of the crowds in approval, but I could see the little fountains of light bursting up like Walt Disney mushrooms all over the state.See the full content of this document
Extract
Vive L'Amerique!
Then I thought of my grandmother.
During World War II, Nazi SS troops banged on the door of my grandmother's house in Brussels searching for ...See the full content of this document
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