F 0 R E W 0 R 1)<br > The Earth Song<br > T~e illusion of huddling in a cellar during a tor-<br > nado dominated the 74Ts takeoff. The engines， each spewing a<br > whirlwind ofx apor， thundered gravity into submission. The tiled<br > walls and pink church towers of Lisbon dropped away. The Tagus<br > t{i~er shrank to a turquoise thread curling across the squares and<br >crescents o| a green and tan quih. We snarled into the gloom of<br >a cloud， The land and its scarabs of civilization vanished. Swn-<br >bolism duriuK a 747 takeoff? Fears about vanishing land had l(een<br >the decisive fitctor of our decision to return home fi)r the final<br >decades of our earthspan.<br > _iv wife and 1 were happy during our years in Emope and<br >Africa. Ve thrilled at the Creeks devotion to the tawny cliffs，<br >flowered plains， terraced vineyards， and purple seascapes ()ftheir<br >pa/;-ia too，. the Bavarians" Fre，dc in hiking litter-fi-ee trails through<br >prim ti)res~s and |itrmlands， Sudanese graciousness to travelers<br >who dared the desert trek fi om Khartoum to ancient MemO， the<br >iberians" delight in garlanding railroad stations， airports， and<br >tiled balconies with ~ardcns. All of these had strengthened our<br >
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