A warzone, a panoply of destruction, a hot rainy jungle hell of death.Not my superlative vacation destination... And that was my idea of communists, c...mmunism.Warfare, alongside starvation, bread lines, death. Siberia. Nukes. Steely grimacing vodka people in furry hats.Boat people. Boat people in Miami. Bay of Pigs. Schoolchildren ducking under desks. Gorby and that big birthmark on his head. The Berlin Wall. Crises.Yellow people in jungles, jumping from trees, armed with long knives, stabbing. “Carter, my name is Brad Christian. I,” I had to swallow the lump in my throat to keep talking. “I was a friend of your mom’s. I used to visit the two of you a lot.” Carter cocked his side to one side and looked at me again. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah! I remember you. You took us to see the Spongebob movie when it came out. And… you gave me that new bike for my fourth birthday!” The tension was finally broken, and I couldn’t contain my smile anymore. “Man Carter, I’vemissed you,” I told him.. More

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