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My brother John was always a bundle of troublesome energy in a hurry.  Born two months early and six years after I came along, I remember many of his milestones, such as his first steps across

Our Boeing 997 is a slim white arrow shooting over the top of the world, destination, Spitzbergen International.  Behind us trails a long hydrogen flame, freezing into a rainbow of sparkly ice crystals arcing back to

The question “Ow eez your late Americain?”  popped in a thick French accent by my shoulder like a champagne cork on New Year’s Eve. Being up to my skull in regressive correlates, the interruption startled me,