I’m halfway to thirteen and 1968 is already the craziest year ever. Rigged elections, H-bombs, riots, rock and roll. My rock star brother might end up in Vietnam and The Monkees TV show just got cancelled. So much for flower power. Should I tell my grandmother that our weird neighbor is an ex-Nazi? Nana survived Dachau and deserves a quiet life which, so far, I haven’t provided. I may be the dumbest kid in smart class, but I have a really big idea: I’m going to return to the scene of the crime and avenge Nana’s lost family. Garage bands, G-men, Germans and Jews. Laurel Canyon, where the nuts roll uphill. If the future of the free world depends on me, please accept my apology in advance. Among the many wise things Nana tells me, one that rings true time and again is that God keeps a big zoo. In the summer of 1968 I joined the menagerie