I was pulled back into the world in an unexpected way. During my first summer on the island I
had met a man named Joe Currie there. In the spring of my second year I received a letter from him
saying that he had thought about me through the winter and he wondered how I was doing. I wrote
back inviting him to come and spend the summer. He agreed, providing I could pay for his airfare.
Joe Currie was an extraordinary man. He was of Italian descent, good-looking, with dark
brown eyes and olive skin. He was a fabulous cook. He could sing like a true Italian tenor. He was a
marvelous mimic and storyteller. But with all his talent, he seemed curiously damaged somehow.