Uncle Pete, age 29, and his dad, my grandfather, Daniel, age 76, in Colorado Springs. Daniel da Cruz came to the US from Portugal, via Mozambique, where he was a Catholic priest. He left the church, married my grandmother, got a PhD at Catholic University in Washington, and spent the rest of his life as a professor of many things: Spanish, Portuguese, Romance Philology, Botany, Astronomy, who knows what else. I met him once, for one day, when I was about 8. All I remember is that he was very strong. He died in 1965.

Pete was a Marine in the war and saw combat all over the Pacific. When he returned, it took him 10 or 15 years to settle down, during which time he had adventures all over the world and learned to speak what seemed like dozens of languages. Eventually he got a college degree from Georgetown University and settled down in Beirut, Lebanon, where he got married, had kids, and, like my grandfather, wrote lots of books. We saw Pete between adventures (when he'd live with us for months at a time), and occasionally after that, most recently when he came to visit us at 118th Street. He died in 1991.