I couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t cold. My lungs weren’t hurting particularly. I knew what had happened. I was dead. The murk was just the mes... I’d made of my life. Maybe I would have eternity to clear it up. For some reason I remembered just when I’d lost Hope.My mid-life crisis hit the day I realized thirty-three was half-way through my life expectancy. Of course, technically, having already survived Viet Nam, I should have had a much longer life expectancy than the sixty-six that was. In December of 1941, the main headquarters of the Vichy government was a beehive of activity as communications were flying in every direction. I noticed that some of the poorly hidden Jewish populace was in a joyous mood as if they hoped their redeemer would soon emerge from the far-away lands of the new world. I was besieged with many of the refugees peppering me with questions about Roosevelt and how the American government viewed the terrible conditions for all Jews in Europe. I did my best. More

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