"Merry Christmas. How's your little boy?" "Merry Christmas to you," I said. "By now he's at his uncle's cabin enjoying his second Christmas of the day... Like you, I had to work today, so I sent the family off for a long weekend." "Awww," she said. "Did he open presents with you?" "Yeah," I said. "He's fascinated by technology and building stuff, so we got him a computer and things like that to play with. If he were here right now I'm sure he would be looking at the scanner watching you read the. He could make anything better. The only person who gave, ... gives better hugs is you. Why can't I hate you? I'm trying." She gave a tiny sob and snuggled in closer."He was born in 1925. Berlin. His parents were upper middle class. Both engineers, my grandfather, a designer for the aviation industry, my grandmother, in civil planning. Highly educated and well paid, both had missed serving in the First War. Essential personnel, I believe. They were killed in the bombing and all the family. More

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