December 2021
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Well into my ninth decade, I no longer sprint. Neither do I run. Or trot. Or jog. Or even lope. There is no necessity to stride. Instead, I prefer to walk, with dignity, though frankly, I'm oftentimes content to stroll. Nor do I rush, hustle, hasten, zoom, or (heavens forfend!) scurry. Nowadays, I do…
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I read, first with irritation but eventually with appreciation, Another Brooklyn, by Jacqueline Woodson. If I had purchased the book, rather than borrowing it from the Boulder Public, I'd be peeved, because it's more of a novella or long short story than a fully-grown novel. Only 165 pages of minibook size(8" x 5"), with spacious…
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My new reading project: novels set in Brooklyn. There are, I've already discovered, tons of them. I wonder how long I will last at this endeavor. Will it be a sterile or a fruitful exercise? How is it that I never read, until this very week, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn? It's certainly the best…
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I decided to keep a record of the books that I read this past 2021. It's in roughly chronological order, starting just about a year ago. It's an eclectic bunch; after years of being forced to be a specialist I've reverted to my natural dilettantism. I've probably forgotten some books, both my record-keeping and my…
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Here's a Christmas-themed picture posted by United States Representative Thomas Massie of Kentucky. Note the cheerfully decorated tree behind them. Note also that each member of the shit-eating-grin faced members of the Massie family is sporting a military weapon. Massie himself, as befits the father of such a family, carries the piece of artillery that…
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I was in the midst of the usual noir "can't-find-my-way" dream when all at once, without warning, the scene and the genre changed. Suddenly I was in technicolor John Ford territory, holding on for dear life to the cow-catcher of an 1880s railroad engine. Three central-casting bad guys — all whiskers and black hats –were…
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I first heard the word "spatchcock" at a Thanksgiving celebration some four or five years ago. The turkey, I was told, had been "spatchcocked." To be absolutely honest, I thought someone was pulling my leg. To my pure and undefiled ears, the word "spatchcock" sounded more than a little obscene. Certainly not something that a…