“Chasing the Echoes of Home: A Journey Through Memory and Migration”
“He’s a helicopter pilot.” I fingered the delicate blue airmail paper on the back of a stamp featuring an Arctic fox. “He flies supplies out to the American warships in the bay.”
“I’ve seen Colin Lionhardt’s name on the U.N.’s list of suspicious individuals,” my father said. “Ghyslain is convinced he’s a spy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ghys thinks everyone is a spy.” Ghyslain Villeneuve, my father’s fellow French-Canadian peacekeeper, was a liaison officer whose job was to extract information from all his various sources among Beirut’s warring factions. We rarely saw him without his radio gear, even when he and his wife came for supper or a social call.
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