Tuesday, June 8, 2010
6:15 AM. Yesterday mid-day I was sitting at the kitchen counter, reading the end of [Reynolds’] The Homecoming, when an impulse to pick up journal and pen resulted in the day’s second entry — to my delight. A nice gift, Papa, and already two people from my little list e-mailed me to say that it meant something to them individually. And why not? One is an artist and you described the inner satisfaction of an artist’s life whether gardening or cooking or whatever — life lived in two worlds simultaneously. And another has had extensive shaman’s training, which comes to the same thing. So — thank you.
And of course it has not escaped me that this time you came unbidden — out of the blue — and that the content delivery and style of your message was less me and more you. I’m very glad to serve as conduit, and not because you were famous but because we were friends.
You heard your hesitation, there? Before you wrote “were friends” you began to write “are friends” with a different meaning.