My reflections are at least partly those of the child of an emigré who grew up to beome an economist. Since my father was an engineer from Germany's Barmen-Elberfeld textile city—also the city of Friedrich Engels—he clearly is not among the first generation of German scholars who were deprived of their professional positions as the Hitler regime came into power. Indeed, somewhat like Joseph Schumpeter, he came to America to grasp an opportunity rather than to avoid a threat. Like many of educated men of his generation, he was fluent in five languages and an ardent student of philosophy, history, and political economy. His move to America, after three or four trial visits, preceded my birth, because in those days before international air travel the seven day ocean voyage between Bremerhaven and New York was so daunting for a woman approaching childbirth that I was close to a year old before our arrival in America. My early childhood was uneventful except for the arrival of two siblings, and the only negative I recall from those early days was that I hated my first name, Ingrid (so carefully chosen by my parents), and longed to be called Jane, Anne or anything other than Ingrid.