calcutta was very hot, said amy. i wondered how our conversation about asian american literature veered to calcutta? calcutta was very hot but i got my first doll there. we spent some time in calcutta when we fled to the united states. the doll didn't look like me blond hair and blue ice bought from calcutta. she comforted me when i remember the sounds of the japanese bombs that forced us to leave our home. did you have a dog? an indian doll to comfort you when you were a child? i told amy about my doll named champy and my oldest paternal uncle who resembled chinese ancestors. my uncle was an astounding musician played the violin and k helo. i would pick up shanty's head and place her ears on the door because her ears were smaller than my ears. i wanted her to listen carefully to the wonderful sound. i may have know in the way children know but my uncle's music would disappear from my life far too soon. he died when he was 40 years old. i tried to tell amy how my grand mother asked everyone why no one could bring her

no one where i witnessed anything like it not in calcutta.he voiceless children silenced by hunger the bodies burned at night leaving i don't trace. descending the drum hills i turned off the main road following signs and i language lost before i was born. this was land observe the land was renamed and hushed. what was left for me, generations gone. a purfume of smoke freshened my nostrils. pastures reached to the head of the bay. thick roads where locals greeted with slowly raised hands or a nod of a cap to my car the postcard my eye framed in it's longing. moony's pub where i stopped for a pint and slipped my quest. so, you are a to bein accomodating my english. they're all about here. she showed the photograph with dark hair and features unlike my own but a resemblance of an uncle. what was the ring happened on my chance or grace. why not trace through lost norman crests or track dna to tribes 6,000 years gone from the banks. or further back through each human cell to african eve her grunts are tuning savannahs. i felt the gift shared from

on super tuesday morning i was in calcutta, ohio minutes from santorum's steubenville headquarters.e shop with my family in tow to hear the partisan battle cries. gathered were a few groups of seniors enjoying morning coffee and breakfast. ella was immediately spotted by a group of older men. she is pretty adorable. what is your name, sweetie? ella she responded and chatted them up about breakfast and baby animals. all throughout breakfast i was busy tweeting about sluts, prostitutes, rush limbaugh and potential war in iron. i listened with one ear while the restaurant patrons chatted while millions of dollars in negative ads bombed every available air wave. as we left the restaurant we overheard the older men who had chatted with ella doing their breakfast prayer hands class pleased. they couldn't see us. after they said thanks for their food they asked god to give my beautiful little girl a good life. someone they had just met. now that's america. all the rest of this is just theater. dylan? >> beautifully said. and wonderful story. >> thank you. >> thank you for sharing it. not j