I was just out front raking a mountain of leaves, had a chat with an elderly man on a bike who’d stopped at the Little Free Library. He was a recent widower, obviously lonely, grew up downtown, told me many jokes. “Trump and Giuliani are in a car. Who’s driving?” Answer: “The police.”
If only, I said.
Luckily I’d just gone through the Library. Someone had left a porno DVD about hot Asians, and we’re not talking heat wave. I’d just thrown it in the garbage when my nice friend appeared. A vast variety of stuff is left in the Library, including religious tracts of various kinds, but rarely that. Imagine, someone felt they should share it with others. Yuck.
Happy news today: The New Quarterly has appeared, with my article on Alice Neel. After so many ‘no’s’, seeing a ‘yes’ in print is a wonderful thing. My writer self exists.
I guess my coaching self exists too.
More old family photos: my dad as he was when my mother met him at a Chopin concert in 1944. I can understand the instant attraction. They talked classical music, until they didn’t.
The army pic is from January 1944, the 27th Medical Training Battalion at Camp Grant, Illinois. There are six groups – hundreds of men in this very long shot; I didn’t even try to find Dad.
And yet, amazingly – I did! Dead centre and turned in a slightly different way than the others. He was 21. 
Sam cherishes Dad’s army stuff, including his US Army ration book and honourable discharge papers, so he’ll get this too. He was only three when Dad died, but he feels a powerful bond. How glad I am for that.
