Georgetown - John Bruns

That first year we had no money most of the time. When we did we’d go with our friends on summer evenings to Chez Odette on M Street, where the Poulet Dijonaise was usually not tough and there was Portuguese wine in round, dark bottles, seven dollars.

In November, cold rains rushed down M Street. We stayed home, ate in, hating the war, dreaming of California. Then came Tet; assassinations; hard work; the moon. People moved away to have their babies. One year, one honeysuckle evening, we returned to M Street, but Chez Odette was gone.