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Victor Davis Hanson By midnight, the fever had climbed higher, and there was minimal choice. The Libyan minders arrived, worried that I had food poisoning or some other bad experience that might sour our once-happy plans for national conciliation. After a brief consultation, they notified the proper port authorities. I was allowed off the boat,

Victor Davis Hanson By 1996, I had settled down to an academic life, if teaching four and five courses a semester seemed a normal scholarly career. I puttered rather than worked with my siblings on the farm and turned my attention to my great-great-grandmother’s house that was falling apart. We had no money, but I

Victor Davis Hanson I was feeling great by 1987, some eight years after my near-death experience in Greece. True, I had been deemed a “failure” at 25 for having a PhD in Classics from Stanford only between 1980 to 1984 to prune vines, drive a tractor, and do manual farm chores, with a growing family

Victor Davis Hanson The plane to SFO landed at 2:00 AM on a delayed flight in July 1979. At the airport my father was waiting with his Vista Cruiser used station wagon, all the seats down with a bed made up. By the time we got out of customs, the garage, and on the road,

Victor Davis Hanson Four years after my Greek sojourn I came back in 1978–79 for another year of study, this time at the American School of Classical Studies. It was a wonderful year, walking each Saturday over the Attic countryside with the legendary Professor Eugene Vanderpool, or taking the class tours with the dynamic archaeologist

Victor Davis Hanson I studied Classics at age 19–20 in Greece from August 1973 to July 1974. It was quite a crazy year to be in the Eastern Mediterranean. Not long after I arrived, there was a Greek coup resulting in the removal of the Prime Minister/Col. Papadopoulos and his “colonel” junta. It was replaced