He lives in Massachusetts in the same neighborhood his Sicilian immigrant grandfather settled in when he came over from the Old Country.
We had talked 45 minutes when he said, "Hey, why did you call me? Why did you send that e-mail asking for my phone number?"
"Wait . . . I forgot," I answered. Then I remembered and told him and we laughed.
"I'm Protestant and proudly Protestant," I told him, "but I've got lots of Catholic friends. They're conservative, I'm conservative . . ."
So he told me I had a new Catholic friend, and I said, "Hey, I gotta be careful. All these Catholic friends -- I'll ruin my reputation."
You know what's funny? When I told him about another friend, he didn't even know she was a she, much less that she was Luo-American. And we talked about she said about the first chapter of Romans . . . Sad, but she's still praying.
But it was a good talk, cheerful and at one point I found myself talking about John Garang and the SPLA men who held the line at "Mile 40" . . . It was just weird. Out of nowhere. Another Man's War.
Be good, buddy.
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