The Pickpocket's Daughter

When I was a kid, I was introduced to an exciting and mysterious man, known simply as Jack. I thought he was my grandfather. He wasn’t. He did, however, save the lives of my grandmother and mother. 

 

I used to ask my mom “What does Jack do?” I never got an answer. When I was 40 and my mom was 68, we were having a four martini lunch (one for me, three for her) at the U.N. Dining Room. I asked again. She made me swear that I would never tell a soul.

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I kept the secret for over twenty years.

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At age 89 she said to me, "You know, If I ever wrote my life’s story, I’d call it Pickpocket’s Daughter.”