[Photo is of a plaque on a firehouse near where I live. It is a memorial to the 12 firefighters from of that unit who died on 9/11. (Only one man returned.) The sentiments apply equally to the men we have lost to PC, including my dear friend, Hughie. "I can die but canna part, my bonnie [...]
Saturday night Ted and I went to a concert. The music was good, but my mind kept straying. I was thinking about my father. Feeling depressed, because it dawned on me that, 3 1/2 years after his death, he wasn't coming back. That only happens to deities. My mind flashed back to the scene at his bedside the night he died, [...]
I recently took a cruise down the Mississippi River on an old-fashioned steamboat, and it made me want to revisit the great African-American poet Langston Hughes' best-known poem, "The Negro Speaks of Rivers" (that's what inspired this title.) But my personal favorite Hughes poem is "Mother to Son", which I think of whenever I feel [...]
Not long after Hughie died, Alan wrote me a sad note. He had come home from University, where he is studying (and excelling in) math and economic geography, to the flat he had his Dad had shared. As usual, he called out, “Pops, I’m home,” and of course, there was no answer. Nor was there [...]
There have been a lot of ups and downs in the 16 months I’ve spent in PC cyberspace. One of the pleasures — and ironically, the miseries — was connecting with my first penpal — no, beloved friend — Hugh Kearnley. Who could have thought my internet soulmate would turn out to be a big, [...]