One March afternoon in 1969 I was on the deck of a Chinese junk listening to the water clop against the wooden hull and enjoying a breeze that blew toward the South China Sea. The junk bobbed ...  [+]

My uncle Gerry Karlsson was a storyteller—a great one. My cousins and I loved his stories and even loved the fact that they changed a bit—sometimes a lot—with each retelling. We'd all listen closely ...  [+]