They looked like refugees running through the Albany train station trying to catch the midnight to Chicago. Dan charged ahead of his family, carrying two suitcases and a shopping bag, and moved at lightening speed. He ran through the station, his tall thin frame weaving in and out of wandering late-night stragglers, and careening off of corner posts. Pieces of clothing stuck out of the bulging suitcases, scraped and battered and strained at the hinges with the leather-covered
