One month before Christmas at the dawn of the millennium, a child came to us.  Having come from an atheistic nation, his baptism probably came in the salt water on that day when his mother gave her life trying to raise her son in a free land.  That child was Elián González, and ten years ago this week he was returned to live with his father in Cuba.  It seems so simple at a glance.  The convolutions of his story may not make any sense to most people, but that winds up being the point of it after all.
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