|Untitled, 1982-1985, copyright William Eggleston|
Sunday, November 29, 2020
Friday, November 27, 2020
Walking around our village yesterday (Thanksgiving), I noticed that weeks after the election several yards are still flying their Biden-Harris signs. Maybe because it’s not over yet, right? The fat lady still needs to sing? Okay, I live in a super-liberal bubble of a town, and I like it that way. I’m thankful for it. Most of my life has been spent in ruby red places, and it’s nice not to hear stupid conspiracy theories coming out of the mouths of rubes. I can relax and not constantly argue with knuckle-draggers.
Wednesday, November 25, 2020
Tuesday, November 24, 2020
My twin brother passed away last year on November 14th. Finally, he’s been laid to rest, interred next to our mother in the family plot in upstate New York. The plaque above his urn has the usual name and dates, but the engraver also depicted a taxi cab and a book with the title of his memoir, The Cabbie’s Tale.
Rest in Peace, brother