With a broken-down oven, in a hotel kitchen, on an uninhabited island
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Bruce E. Mitchell has worked in a diesel garage, in a brick factory, and in France helping to rebuild medieval castles. But he is most proud of having taught more than four thousand students during thirty-two years as a high-school English teacher. He lives in Evanston, Illinois.
Halfway through the first day, we passed an army caravan. Father said they were going to the Sierra Maestra mountains to kill Fidel Castro, “the enemy of Fulgencio Batista and General Motors.” I knew nothing then about Batista’s dictatorship and Castro’s attempts to overthrow it.
The first noise was hardly audible, like the whimper of a child so hurt that the wounds had to speak, a primal crying that went far deeper than language. The hurt had lost all anger and selfishness; it spoke only of its existence, incapable of any control, gurgling its rawness.