The hecklers shut up. I ask the donor for clarification. The rest are watching to see my reaction. I feel a smile coming on. Here we go.
Summer is over.
I look up at the clock, glance out the window where hot afternoon sun is bleaching the pine trees, flickeringly remember how the sun had felt on granite boulders in the high country, look back at Ho Chi Minh and over to the fireman, smiling more broadly. General murmur of agreement. A polite girl in the front row hastens to disarm the moment, sweet benevolence blooming on her intensely focused face. God, I think, I love these people. What the hell.