Stories of an ex-husband, whose parents survived the camps. Scars passed on to an American son, then passed on to you his lovely young bride. There's no mystery in your hate of all things deutsche. Numerical reminders burned into a child's arm, later raised in anger by an immigrant father haunted by the past. The art of learning language fades with age.
Children are sponges.
Hardly a phrase comes easily anymore. This is the challenge. I begin talking about God and Big Bang physics. Undaunted, I continue. I explain that the iron of which the skillet is made, is actually the remnant of an ancient star that blew up over five billion years ago.