Instead I agreed to help out and took the first item, awell-worn T-shirt of mine."I can't believe you still wear that? Look how old it is?!" Mum joked..."I like it..." I replied and set it down on the bed beside me, creatingthe first new pile in the process.Next she handed me a few of my Dad's work shirts and then more of my T-shirts. I made nice neat piles as instructed and engaged in politeconversation. Mum asked how my book was going and what I had plannedfor the rest of the day. It was a nice. Emily had liked the notion of being a professor’s wife, of going with her husband on sabbaticals to Paris or Stockholm or some other exotic, high prestige locales. Her father had been a full professor and a world-renowned economist. Her mother had reveled in playing hostess at the many functions related to her father’s work. Their home had hosted eminent scholars and business and world leaders. She had even met Presidents Nixon, Ford, and Carter. The problem was that, although Jacob eventually. More

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