The Devil's Gift

Last Sunday evening Paula and I sat on a small balcony outside our third-story room at the Waterside Inn in Chincoteague watching the sun sink slowly over the bay.

Last Saturday I went to a garden party to celebrate the publication of Steve Altman’s new book. It’s a 202-sonnet homage to John Keats. Oh, boy!

In California, we were required to wear masks in all public places. Same with Oregon and Washington. And then we crossed into Idaho.

This past weekend I saw two sons of Shepherdstown—one in a wheelchair, the other in an enduring funk. Each has been through countless rehabs. One has triumphed over tragedy. The other still struggles.

On Saturday, September 11, a motley group of people gathered at The Folly outside Shepherdstown to raise funds for a friend. Sarah, a mother of four children, has stage 4 breast cancer.

My friend died suddenly last month. He was 91. I was shocked and saddened. I also felt guilty.

Last month one of my Albuquerque granddaughters worked on my nature trail nearly every day.

In case you missed the postscript last Sunday, here it is again.

I fell in love with Jane in Anthropology 101 class my sophomore year in college. She was tall, slender, and beautiful.

I just met the most amazing person, and I can’t wait to tell you about her.