In his other hand, he carried only one bag, a cheap cloth duffel, a gift of the United Nations. And if my aunt was not really my aunt, wasn’t that perfect for a man with two faces? She was really Man’s aunt, and she looked exactly as she had described herself in her last letter: tall, thin, with jet-black hair. His parents had settled there after our Catholic exodus from the north in ’54, the first of our three refugee experiences. Anything from Hanoi might be communist, and anything that might be communist was undoubtedly communist, at least to someone as maniacally anticommunist as he was.

Source: International New York Times March 02, 2021 13:07 UTC