I’ve really resisted starting a blog. There are so many out there already. Who has time to read them all? I’m not an avid blog reader myself. We all spend so much time at the computer already, and I find myself eager to get done with my screen business so I can get back to reading my book. Truth to tell, I read only one blog regularly. Every morning when I fire up my computer, there is Diane...
At the end of last week’s posting, I used the world’s oldest literary device – leaving you in suspense about the contents of the envelope that my friend Bruce Thomas’s son handed me as we were leaving the memorial service for Bruce. A number of you took the bait and wrote back to say you couldn’t wait for the next posting. I hope today’s entry isn’t too much of letdown for you, but the gift in...
As we were leaving the memorial service for my friend Bruce Thomas, his son Sam handed me an envelope. “We found this file in Bruce’s drawer. It had your name on it. We thought you’d like to have it.” The contents proved to be a real gift, which I’ll tell you about shortly after I explain what a gift Bruce himself was. The memorial service revealed a number of things about Bruce’s life that were...
We returned from our two weeks in New Hampshire on Wednesday – on my birthday, no less. Thanks to those who sent birthday wishes. Since our return, we’ve been basking in the visit of daughter Elana and granddaughter Dalia, who were here to celebrate with us and, secondarily of course, to attend a Noah Kahan concert. They left this morning, so there’s finally a moment to confront my self...
In about two weeks, I will be celebrating my 87th birthday. In all those years I have, miraculously, never spent a night in a hospital bed. I may actually have been kept overnight when I had my tonsils out at age 4 or 5, so someone suggested that I qualify that statement by saying I’ve never spent an “unplanned” stay in the hospital. Well, that Cal Ripken-like health record came to a screeching...
Larry Stoler and I have been engaged in a travel adventure of sorts as part of nurturing our cross-generational friendship. It’s nothing like the Rhine River cruise type of travel that I wrote about last week. It’s more like the “I have traveled widely in Concord” kind that Thoreau wrote about. We never leave the confines of Chicago for our excursions (a word forever sullied by Trump’s use of it...