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Ezekiel 1:16: This was the appearance and structure of the wheels: They sparkled like topaz, and all four looked alike. Each appeared to be made like a wheel intersecting a wheel.

I don’t know if you have a history with bicycles. I know I do, from the fat-tired woman’s bike my family found in the woods while takin a walk. I learned to ride with that bike. Then my parents bought me a three-speed English racer (it really was from England) and then I acquired a ten-speed with the paycheck from my first “real job.”

I still have that bike, although I haven’t ridden it for years after I had a close encounter with a fire hydrant. I wasn’t hurt badly, but it made me think about doing any more biking. I keep the bike in our shed and hadn’t had it out for years. As I was looking for some potting soil for Becky, I noticed the bike and I realized that my bike-riding days were over. My balance is not so good, and that’s important to riding.

I also realized that each bike was an improvement on the one before, and I had reached the pinnacle with each bike and my ability to ride. So, no longer riding is a natural step. I’m not sad about it: rather, I have a calm acceptance, confident that I won’t have to encounter any more fire hydrants on a bike. I’ll probably donate the ten-speed.

I was thinking that, just as I went through the different bikes, God calls us to grow spiritually and become a better believer. And I think this isn’t a smooth path, but one strewn with obstacles and problems. But God is with us through all of this, until we grow to meet him and, I think, continue to grow.

Praise God for growth, both spiritual and otherwise, and praise God for God’s presence and love. Jude noted that God “is able to keep us from stumbling and to present us before God’s glorious presence without fault and with great joy” and so he does, world without end, amen.

I don’t know what your history has been with bicycles. I think most of us have ridden one at various times and places. When I was about five, our family found a fat tired model during a walk in the woods. We took it home and I thought we were set (although I wasn’t big enough to ride it) but my mom insisted that we call the police. We did, and they said they would take it to the station and try to find the owner. They tried to make it fit in the trunk of their cruiser, but quickly realized it wouldn’t fit. So they gave it to us, but even I could see the bike would fit easily. The police were making a gift to us, and I was very happy.

After we moved to Fairfax, I learned to ride the big bike by the time-honored method of having someone run alongside me and hold the bike up. One time my uncle (who lived with us them for a while) was running alongside me holding on to the seat when suddenly he let go, leaving me on my own. I circled the yard, imploring him to come back until I tired and navigated into one of my mom’s bushes. Everyone found this very funny, except for me. And my mom.

I eventually learned to ride that machine and graduated to what we called an “English racer,” a bike made in England (go figure) with three speeds. I thought that was cool, and make the bike even cooler by taking the fenders off. I thought this would reduce the weigh of the apparatus and increase my speed, but it didn’t.

When we moved to a farm in Loudoun County, I didn’t think that much about bikes, preferring to think about cars. I got my license and had driven a few years when I decided to save the earth and buy another bike in 1971 with my first paycheck from my first real job. It had ten speeds and was extremely fast and light.

I still have that bike in my shed. I don’t go into the shed much anymore, but I had occasion to get some African violet fertilizer and potting soil for Becky and when I opened the shed, there lay my ten speed. I hadn’t ridden it since I narrowly missed running into a fire hydrant one day. That memory made me realize that my cycling days are over unless I use a senior tricycle, but I’m too vain for that.

The point of all this is that changes come to us all, and we can resist them (generally to no avail) or we can accept them and move on. I’m okay with that except if the change involves an adult tricycle.

Isaiah 41:13: For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

I don’t know if you’ve ever spent some time rocking on a front porch of a house. I know I did. Until I was in high school, my family and I went to Tennessee to visit relatives. There were a lot of them, and they all came at one time or another to my maternal grandmother’s house, which lay hard by a railroad track. When we heard the whistle, the children ran to the track for the candy and loose change that the train men threw to us.

The property had a hen house, a pump for water, a barn and some cows, and more to the subject here, a front porch with a swing which would take four people at one time, as long as one of them didn’t weigh very much. We rocked and talked and sometimes fell asleep. I felt warm and cared for. In fact, rocking on the porch was my favorite activity there, even more than candy, and that’s saying something.

I was thinking that being with God is like rocking on the porch. There we were safe and comfortable, and we knew we were loved by all those around us.

The house has been sold now, but I sometimes think of it and I smile. We do not only have memories like that: we also have a God who gathers us in mighty arms and tells us we are loved, both now and forever.

Praise God for the care he brings and for the promise of salvation that comforts us and keeps us going through it all. Amen.

Isaiah 40:28: Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.

I don’t know if you think about change that much. I know I do, and lately I’ve been thinking about telephones and how they’ve changed. Many of you probably remember rotary dial phones, party lines and making a long distance call.

Now if we’re forced to use a dial phone (and don’t ask me where you could find one), it seems to take forever for the dial to do its duty. If you were making an emergency call, someone might be suffering while you dialed. And of course, the dial phone was replaced by the push button model—it was much faster.

We were on a party line when I was a lad, and I enjoyed listening in on our neighbors and their business. Such ill-gotten pleasure did not last long when my parents found out what I was doing. They took away my phone privileges, which didn’t bother me since there was no one I wanted to call. Eavesdropping was better.

Making a long distance call was a big deal. For one thing, we had to call the operator who put the call through. Then we had to decide whether we wanted a usual call or to make it collect or even—gasp—person to person, a relatively expensive proposition. Not that it bothered me since there was no one I knew who could take a person to person call.

Obviously, all the changes to phone service came as a result of changes, though enhanced services sometimes could be a problem. We carry our phones with us, which means we are accessible until we turn it off. And then there is the curse of unsolicited calls, which means that I can renew the warranty on my seventeen-year-old car or improve my medical insurance or have my roof fixed. I don’t need any of those, but they keep calling.

The point of all this is that change is a mixed blessing. We need some of these improvements, while others we really don’t need. God, as we know, never changes, and God is good, staying with us throughout our lives and beyond. Praise God for God’s eternal presence, given to us while we were yet sinners. His gift of love means that God will always with us, now and forever. Amen.

Adhesion

Romans 8:38-39 “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

I don’t know if you receive a lot of packages in the mail, but I know we do. The recycling bin fills up rapidly with packages, mostly from Amazon and music companies, so I have to empty it twice a week. Before I put boxes in the bin, I have to, as us disposal engineers say, “break it down.” That means I have to cut or tear tape and labels off the boxes. Now, I know these companies have a vested interest in not having the labels and tape come off (as do I), so they have developed the strongest glue in the universe. To show how strong these adhesives are, NASA used them to glue the heat-resistant tiles on the shuttle. That explains why the labels and tape are so hard to take off.

I have two methods for removing tape and labels. First, I try to scratch them off with my fingernails, which doesn’t work well. I keep my nails short so I don’t scratch myself. This accounts for my difficulty removing a label. Usually I end up tearing what few nails I do have. If that fails, and it usually does, I have to resort to a knife or scissors to remove the stubborn item. The drawback there is that I’m clumsy, and sometimes manage to stab myself in various places. If I didn’t want something like a book on the clothing of Romantic poets so badly, I wouldn’t open the box. But I’m curious and have to see what’s in the box. It’s a kind of Christmas throughout the  year.

The point of this is, just as labels and tape stay on boxes and can be removed only with effort.

In the same way, God has bound himself to us through the death of His son, and if we accept this gift, nothing can separate us from God for eternity. Let us praise God that God has saved us and we will be with Him, forever. Amen.

Chapter Twelve

New Life

January, 1979

Otto sat at a table in Mata’s café, enjoying a cup of black coffee. Maria tried to get him to order something fancier, but he told her he wasn’t in the mood for fancy. He had almost finished his drink when he saw D come in. He stood up and waved him over.

“D! Come sit down! How are you?”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“And how are Samantha and the baby?”

“They’re fine. I hadn’t talked to you for a while, and when I went to the office to do that, Mata said you were here.”

“You could have called. I would have come back.”

“Thanks for that, but I wanted to get away from work for a while.”

“Oh? Is there a problem?”

“No, I just wanted a change of scenery.”

“Well, sit down and let’s talk.”

D sat across from Otto.

“So, how do you like being a father?”

D smiled. “It’s amazing to watch her grow, but we do lose some sleep.”

“Oh, yes, I remember those days.”

D sat silently for a while, and then he said, “What would you say I’ve been offered a really good job with United in Chicago?”

It was Otto’s turn to be quiet. Then he said, “If that’s what you want, sure. Why not?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Otto put both hands on the table. “Look, D, here you have everything you know here, and your family is here to help guide and support all of you.”

D sighed. “Yes, I know that, and I’ve been grateful for it, but I feel I need to have my own identity, and that can’t happen around here.”

Otto could think of nothing to say about that. Finally he said, “You know that whatever you do, short of any sort of felony, you have our love and our full support.”

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that more than you can know. Now I’d better get back to work. I’ll tell Mata about the job in Chicago so she can get the paperwork started.”

Otto stood up, as did D, and they shook hands. “I’m sure I’ll see you around for a while,” Otto murmured.

“You bet. See you soon.”

As Otto watched him walk out of the café, he thought, this still doesn’t seem right to me, but I’ll see what Mata thinks.

Otto finished his coffee and started back for the office. When he pulled up in front, he didn’t see D’s car there. He must have finished his business, he thought, but that’s good because I can talk to Mata without him around. He walked in the office.

“Hey, Brother. How was your coffee?”

“Oh, pretty good for a local effort.”

“Hey! I can make you drink lattes until you can’t drink any more.”

“What a horrible punishment.”

“Did D find you?”

“He did, and I’m sure you know about the Chicago job offer by now.”

Mata sighed. “I do. He came by here after he saw you to get the paperwork started. I think it’s a mistake, but I didn’t want to say anything until I talked to you.”

“I think it’s a mistake as well.”

“So what do we do?”

“Other than tell him that, not much. I expressed my doubts and told him this was the best place for him and his family right now, but he was having none of it.”

“So.”

“So we let them go and then see what happens. We have no other choice.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Are I always?”

“You don’t want to hear what I have to say about that.”

Otto laughed at that and went into his office. I suppose that waiting is all we can do. I just hope nothing bad comes of this, but I think it will.

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

New Life

January, 1979

Otto sat at a table in Mata’s café, enjoying a cup of black coffee. Maria tried to get him to order something fancier, but he told her he wasn’t in the mood for fancy. He had almost finished his drink when he saw D come in. He stood up and waved him over.

“D! Come sit down! How are you?”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“And how are Samantha and the baby?”

“They’re fine. I hadn’t talked to you for a while, and when I went to the office to do that, Mata said you were here.”

“You could have called. I would have come back.”

“Thanks for that, but I wanted to get away from work for a while.”

“Oh? Is there a problem?”

“No, I just wanted a change of scenery.”

“Well, sit down and let’s talk.”

D sat across from Otto.

“So, how do you like being a father?”

D smiled. “It’s amazing to watch her grow, but we do lose some sleep.”

“Oh, yes, I remember those days.”

D sat silently for a while, and then he said, “What would you say I’ve been offered a really good job with United in Chicago?”

It was Otto’s turn to be quiet. Then he said, “If that’s what you want, sure. Why not?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Otto put both hands on the table. “Look, D, here you have everything you know here, and your family is here to help guide and support all of you.”

D sighed. “Yes, I know that, and I’ve been grateful for it, but I feel I need to have my own identity, and that can’t happen around here.”

Otto could think of nothing to say about that. Finally he said, “You know that whatever you do, short of any sort of felony, you have our love and our full support.”

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that more than you can know. Now I’d better get back to work. I’ll tell Mata about the job in Chicago so she can get the paperwork started.”

Otto stood up, as did D, and they shook hands. “I’m sure I’ll see you around for a while,” Otto murmured.

“You bet. See you soon.”

As Otto watched him walk out of the café, he thought, this still doesn’t seem right to me, but I’ll see what Mata thinks.

Otto finished his coffee and started back for the office. When he pulled up in front, he didn’t see D’s car there. He must have finished his business, he thought, but that’s good because I can talk to Mata without him around. He walked in the office.

“Hey, Brother. How was your coffee?”

“Oh, pretty good for a local effort.”

“Hey! I can make you drink lattes until you can’t drink any more.”

“What a horrible punishment.”

“Did D find you?”

“He did, and I’m sure you know about the Chicago job offer by now.”

Mata sighed. “I do. He came by here after he saw you to get the paperwork started. I think it’s a mistake, but I didn’t want to say anything until I talked to you.”

“I think it’s a mistake as well.”

“So what do we do?”

“Other than tell him that, not much. I expressed my doubts and told him this was the best place for him and his family right now, but he was having none of it.”

“So.”

“So we let them go and then see what happens. We have no other choice.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Are I always?”

“You don’t want to hear what I have to say about that.”

Otto laughed at that and went into his office. I suppose that waiting is all we can do. I just hope nothing bad comes of this, but I think it will.

 

 

Chapter 35

Reflections

July, 1865

The next day, we had our usual evening meal with all of us present. “With all of us here,” I said, “the cabin is getting crowded.”

I noticed that Hiram looked troubled at this, but I continued on.

“I think we should build on to the back for bedrooms for Adolphus and Andrew.” They had been sleeping on pallets in front of the fireplace.

Adolphus nodded in what I took to be assent.

“Please, Caleb, what about us?” Hiram was plaintive, and I understood his troubled look earlier.

“Don’t worry—we’re not going to send you away.”

“That’s what I thought when you said it was too crowded here.”

“I apologize for giving you that impression. You are part of this family and always will be.”

“That’s good to hear,” Clinton told us. “We didn’t know how you regarded us.”

“Have no fear,” I said. “We’ll take the pump porch to make room for you.”

“That’s wonderful,” Hiram answered.

“No, it’s you boys who are wonderful.” Laurel spoke thoughtfully. She looked around. “All of you are wonderful, and we are so blessed that you are all here.”

We sat a while longer, talking and laughing and then drifting off one by one to go to sleep. I was the last one left, and I took myself to engage in a practice I had gotten into since my return from the war. I went out and sat on a large stump in our front yard and faced the forest, waiting for the moon to rise. At first it was a glow behind distant limbs, then throwing a sliver of itself past the tree line, then growing to its full round and silvery form. I found this calming, and as I sat there, I thought of all I had been through in the past several years. First there was joining up and all the excitement, then being captured, learning to play baseball and being drawn into a spying scheme, my several escapes, slogging through months of fighting and the end of the war. I had met many find people, some of whom are no longer with us. I lifted my cup of apple cider to them in a toast, thinking, here’s to you, my friends. You have made my life beautiful and I am grateful for your presence in my life. And thank you, God, for all you have given me. Amen.

 

 

 

October 1, 2018—March 30, 2019

Manassas, Virginia

Chapter 34

Resolution

July, 1865

I had just returned home from hunting with the two rabbits I had shot. I wanted to bag a deer, but they are harder to find, so I had to settled for what I had. As I stood in the doorway, I saw a black carriage roll up. It looked much like one Eleanor used, although I knew, of course that it couldn’t be her. My curiosity was aroused. Who could it be?

I quickly put the rabbits in a little shed we had built and smoothed back my hair as best I could. I was lucky I didn’t dress the rabbits after I shot them, because that would not have failed to smear blood on my clothes.

I went over to the carriage and arrived there as the carriage driver put some small steps under the door and then opened it. A distinguished-looking man dressed all in black with a black top hat came down the steps, looking around. I stepped forward. “Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to our home. I trust you had a good journey.” I felt fortunate that Adolphus had instructed me in a proper welcome.

He extended his hand. “I am Cornelius Barnham, counselor at law, and I am here on a special mission to make delivery of something I am certain will make you glad.”

“I’m Caleb Dillard, and I’m pleased to meet you.”

Barnham nodded. “I know you are are. Your name came up in Mrs. Perry’s will, and that is tied in with the purpose of my visit.”

I nodded. “Before we get to business, may I offer you anything to eat or drink?” I surmised that he would not partake of our rough food, but Laurel and Clinton had discovered a spring not too far from the house. It gave us some of the best-tasting water I have ever had.

“I don’t suppose you have any whiskey.”

“No, sir, we don’t. We’re too poor to afford it and too honest to make it ourselves.”

He laughed. “Well put, sir. Perhaps you have it in you to become a lawyer.” I thought that an odd thing to say since he had just met me, but took his as a polite response.

“I’ll have some water, then.”

“Very good.” I turned to Andrew, who had come out to see what was going on. I turned to him. “Please fetch a new bucket from the spring. And hurry.”

I turned back to Mr. Barnham. “This will take a little while. Would you like to come in and sit down.”

“Yes, please. It was a long ride from Georgetown.”

We went into the house to find Laurel, Hiram, Clinton and little Caleb sitting around the table. They all stood except for Laurel. I introduced each of them in turn, and was pleased that the boys knew the proper way to meet someone. Laurel, of course, knew what to do.

She rose and offered her hand. Mr. Barnham kissed it and said, “Enchanted to meet you, Madame Dillard.”

“And I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Will you have a seat?” She motioned to Clinton, who gave Barnham his seat.

“Thank you, young man. I appreciate your kindness.”

“Think nothing of it, sir.”

Barnham looked around. “Is this everyone in the household?” he asked.

Laurel spoke up. “Other than Andrew, who has gone for water, there’s another one of us, a former seminary student and soldier named Adolphus Custis. He has gone to town on business.”

“Ah. I am sorry to have met him. I believe I knew his father, who is lately deceased.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering that he knew Adolphus’ father.

“Anyhow, I believe you can relay the contents of our conversation. This, sir—” he handed me a long envelope—“is for you.”

I took it from him and asked, “May I open it now?”

“It is yours, so you may do as you wish.”

With all eyes on me, I tore open the envelope and took out a single long piece of paper. I looked at it and gasped. Then, looking at Barnham, I said, “Surely there has been a mistake.”

“There is no mistake. This is a portion of Mrs. Perry’s estate generously given to you by her brother because of Mrs. Perry’s state.”

“But it’s for $50,000.”

“Indeed it is. But Mrs. Perry was an extremely wealthy woman, thanks to her husband’s work. If she were here, she would not miss this amount.”

“Will you thank her brother for his generosity, then?”

“I would be shirking my duty if I did not.” Just then Andrew came in with the bucket. He set it down next to the pump. Laurel got to her feet and went over to the bucket and pour a glass for each of us. Clinton helped her and Andrew bring it to the table.

Barnham raised his glass. “Here’s to you in your new-found wealth!”

The rest of us raised our glasses and then drank.

“And here’s to John Duncan in his generosity and to you, sir, for your effort.”

Once again we raised our glasses and drank. I noticed Barnham finished his glad quickly. He looked at Laurel and said, “May I have some more?”

“You certainly may.”

She went over and filled Barnham’s glass and took it to him. He stood to receive it and bowed. “My hearty thanks, Madame. I have had the finest wines, but this slakes my thirst like nothing I have ever drunk.”

Laurel blushed. “Thank you, sir. It is only water.”

“But water of the first rate. You could sell this.”

“Thanks to John Duncan, we won’t have to!” I exclaimed.

We all laughed at this, and after we had all finished our water, Barnham stood up, and we with him, with Laurel’s exception.

“I fear I must be going. And I must tell you, my reception here was far better than I had expected.”

“We were pleased to meet you,” I said, “and wish you a safe and comfortable journey back.”

“Your wish for safety I do appreciate, but I am doubtful of the comfort I shall have. Good-bye, now.”

We all went outside to see him off, and saw Adolphus coming toward us. I went to meet him.

“Adolphus, you will not believe what happened!”

“Is it good news or bad?”

“Excellent news, as you shall hear.”

“Humph! Tell me!”

“A lawyer for the estate of John Duncan was here to present us with a check for $50,000.”

“Are you sure?”

I pulled out the check. “Here it is!”

He took it and examined it. “It looks good. If it is good, we can start that school we talked about.”

“That we will. Come in and let’s have a drink to celebrate!”

“You know you have nothing but water.”

“Mr. Barnham the lawyer said it was the best water he had ever tasted. He also said we could sell it if we were so inclined.”

“I’m not ready to get into the water business, but I will toast our success. Let’s go in.”

And so we went in and drank to our good fortune.

 

 

Chapter 33

Moving On

June, 1865

I leaned on my hoe to rest for a moment. Our crops were coming in, and so were the weeds. But I relished this toil after all I had been through. I looked around to see Adolphus and Andrew doing the same thing. I had to smile at the prospect of Adolphus doing manual labor probably for the first time in his life, but he went at it with determination. Hiram scooped the weeds into a basket and dumped them in the woods where they would be eaten by animals. He did this remarkably well, considering he only had one arm. And Clinton had joined us shortly after we came home in April. He had been separated from us in the battles since February. It goes without saying that we were glad to see him. He had gone to town for supplies, but I expected him back shortly.

As I was thinking about that happy month, I was reminded of the sadness we felt with the news of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Although he led the other side, I still thought him to be an honorable and honest man who did his duty. I also thought of that day I met him on the ball field close to the White House. He was generous and kind to a rebel prisoner, and I had not forgotten that.

We were shocked, as were many others, at the idea of an actor shooting him during a play. Ford’s Theater was not far from our ball fields, and although I never went there, I knew where it was. Subsequent reports in the papers of the progress of his funeral train and burial gave us pause. He was one of the last of the soldiers to die in that destructive, divisive war. I had little hope of healing those wounds with that I had read about Andrew Johnson. But that world of politics and division lay far from our little home, and we had plenty to attend to.

Laurel came to the edge of the garden. “It’s time to eat, boys! Come on and get it!

We did not need second invitation but lay down our hoes and basket and made our way to house where Laurel had laid out a spread worthy of a small wedding. “You’ve fixed so much!” I exclaimed.

She gave me a hug. “You’re worked so much!”

“Don’t you get tired of fixing so much food?”

“I’m so happy we’re together that I scarcely notice.”

“I’m happy about that too,” I said, and kissed her.

We all went in and sat at the table when Clinton came in with the supplies. “Clinton!” called Andrew. “You’re just in time to eat, as usual. You’ll do anything to avoid work!”

Clinton wiped his brow. “If walking to town in this humidity and then walking back carrying several bags isn’t work, I have no idea what is.”

“Aw, Clint, I was just joshing you.”

Clinton smiled. “I know. I know what you’re like.” He put his bags down and sat at the table. Laurel looked around. “Whose turn is it to say grace? Hiram? I believe it’s you.”

I knew Hiram felt that he was not as eloquent as Adolphus or as plain-spoken as Andrew. He also had no particular religious belief, so he had a number of reasons he disliked praying. Nonetheless, he bowed his head and we followed.

“Lord, you know I don’t believe in you, but I can’t help who I am. I didn’t have no parents and didn’t go to church. I’m not even sure who I’m talking to, but these good people know You, and I’ll take that for a guarantee. I thank you for having them take me in, for keeping me safe during the war, and for making sure I had a nice home with people who love me and plenty of good meals like this. This is me, Hiram, saying this to you. Amen.”

Andrew and Clinton looked at each other when Hiram’s prayer was done and burst into laughter. Hiram hung his head.

“Boys, that was very rude. You apologize to Hiram.”

Andrew blushed. “M’am, we wasn’t laughing at him. It just struck us as funny that he says he doesn’t like to pray and then he goes and lasts as long at it as Alphonso.”

“You didn’t upset me by laughing,” Hiram said. “I knew why you did it.”

Laurel looked around at them. “I’m glad I understand, but you boys forgot something.”

All three of them blushed this time. “I think Hiram prayed pretty good,” said Andrew. “He didn’t leave nothin’ out.”

“You just did it again. “It’s ‘nothing,’ not ‘nothin’. And you said, ‘I think Hiram prayed pretty good,’ when I’m sure you meant, ‘Hiram prayed very well’.”

“Oh,” said Andrew.

She turned to Hiram. “And you said, ‘I didn’t have no parents’ when you know you should have said, ‘I didn’t have any parents.’”

“That’s my excuse,” Hiram said. “I didn’t have no parents to teach me right!”

“There you go—” Laurel started to call him down but smiled instead. “Of course you didn’t dear boy, and I should remember that. Still, it’s important to speak correctly. I know you will try.”

“Yes’m,” they mumbled, but I remembered how poorly I spoke and wrote at the beginning of the war and how patiently Adolphus taught me better.

We started eating, and once again I was struck how fortunate I was to have such a loving family and, now that the conflict was ended, such a wonderful life.