jamie's wanderings

 I wish I could write it all down. The names, dates, places, and organizations. But, I will refrain. But the indignance, the righteous anger I have, will not be silenced. Yet again, one we know, this time one of our ninos, a student who long ago studied in Granada, and we had moments of connection with, came back. This happens at least once a year. We get a text, phone call or whatever and a name from our past says, "Finally! Bringing the husband/wife/fam, can we have a coffee?" And we get dressed on a windy, fall afternoon and ride Andrew's scooter to the vibing, thriving center of Granada with thousands of tourists gaping up at the buildings, eating icecream and finding a coffee. And we find them, and hug them and sit down and ask, "How are you?" It doesn't take long, and halfway through a cup of coffee, it all come pouring out. Tenative at first, and then all of the nitty, gritty, ,awful details, as my Uncle Peter says, the plot of life then sickens. I kn