My wife Lucia
It's 10:30 am, and my stomach is doing backflips. I'm aboard a Northwest Airlines flight into Detroit Metro Airport after a one-week business trip to California, but I'm not airsick or white-knuckled. I'm thinking about my wife, who I will see in just a few minutes at the terminal.I met Lucia at a party in college. She was a transfer student, a little bewildered and unsure of herself, a little lost and friendless at the big university. Her big, dark eyes appealed to me immediately. I wanted to...