”“What are you talking about?” she said.“Good,” I thought. I had intentionally misstated the command wording Uncle Bert gave me. She had no ...dea what I was talking about.“Andy, please help me learn Yiddish.” Her eyes blanked. She started out the door with me following close behind.Uncle Bert’s house was on fifty acres of land with the house Andy and Mary lived in on an acre carved out of Uncle Bert’s and relatively nearby. Like a bloodhound on the scent, Andy went to an old tree I would never. I don't want to be weird, so I walk off toward the duck pond.A bridge bisects a marsh, part of a habitat reclamation project. It is seclude, a quite ring of trees around still water, the surging Puget Sound not much farther beyond. I hear the car door open. She is walking toward me. I dial in the focus and start snapping shots.She's wearing a long coat, long enough to cover the top of her black leather boots. She smiles; the wind catches her hair in an obliging gust that also flutters the hem. More

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