On the day my family moved into our home in Northern Virginia, we found a bottle of champagne with a card from the sellers affixed. They congratulated us on our purchase—a fixer-upper with a jungle of a backyard—and told us how much they had loved the neighborhood. “And be sure to make . . . . Continue Reading »
A great talent for friendship across the divides of race and class informed Bob Andrews’s fiction even as it enriched his life and the lives of those drawn into his ample orbit. Continue Reading »
In 1975 I decided I was going to get me a refugee, and I did. A lot of them it turned out, two related families, ten people altogether, not counting the 11-year-old boy I got later who became my son. Saigon fell in April and the U.S. evacuated upwards of 136,000 South Vietnamese to the United . . . . Continue Reading »