I'll always be slightly out of sync with my contemporaries. I've never felt fully American - despite valiant attempts, I cannot bring myself to enjoy pro football or shopping malls. At the same time, I'm certainly not European. Instead I'm something in between, a perennial expatriate, a refugee from the gray skys over France, from the screech of the train coming into the Gare St. Lazare, from the wind blowing cold off Mount Olympus through the cracks around our bathroom window.