Yes, it is true that I wrote a short story when I was ten years old, and unfortunately I shared it with my parents and also there was a missionary visiting at the time, Mr. Garlic, who took all of this information home with him to Ecuador, where my story was plugged into their Garlicky machine, so now I can never go home, because unlike Heidi of the children's novel, whose homesickness led to her return to her Alpine home, in America we are stuck here in America because there is no going home to Europe, and don't I remember that in 10th grade analysis of rock music lyrics, someone presented the song by Crosby Stills and Nash, "Wooden Ships," in which it talks about the original pioneers having burned their ships so they have to stay here and build up the New World because there is no going home. Yes, I do remember that song presentation, sort of. There is no going home, only a new season of life hopefully after this is one is completed. Needless to say.
And even so, life in America is not so bad. Yes, there is probably somewhere a long list of creepy weird things that Europeans eat, which are not legal to be offered for sale here in the United States, thanks to the health regulations of our wise and sagacious FDA people. Needless to say.
