I don't know any black sailors. I'm not talking historically, when man o' wars were regularly crewed by men of many races. I'm talking about your average posh marina crowd. Not saying there are no such men or women, because I'm sure there are die-hard black sailors here in America who can't wait to unfurl the spinnaker. I salute all of you.
Wags and Wiggles, the local doggie day care, reopened this week — and not a moment too soon. Django was getting the same cabin fever as the rest of us, despite more trips to the dog park than he'd ever experienced. He's a hound and alert barker, with a propensity for taking personal responsibility for our safety and well-being, patrolling the backyard and howling at any perceived threats. Having us around the house 24-7 put him on high alert. He's adorable but anxious, and finally getting the chance to once again hang out with a bunch of dogs all day has calmed him down a bunch.
If I was president (and what historian wouldn't want to sit behind the Resolute desk?), this current state of pandemic would be catnip. I would be Churchillian in my oration, telling people the full truth of what's happening and then stirring them to band together and work as a nation to defeat this monumental threat.
I took Django to the dog park today. What used to be a chore is now an escape, so I sat on a bench as he trotted around with other dogs, check and rechecking my social media, because that's the only form of outside connection these days. If I had to estimate the difference in screen time from two weeks ago to now, the difference would not be measured in minutes, but in passion: from "enthusiastic" to "obsessed.”
I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with all of you. As much as I love the author photo posted on this site, it was taken at least fifteen years ago. For various reasons, I've never gotten around to getting a new one. But as it becomes clear that I am an older and more grizzled version of that guy, I'm not just going to leap blindly into the world of author photos.
An excerpt from the new paperback edition of To Be a Runner. . . . "Ever think of giving it a try?" It was a year since my knee surgery. Liam needed new running shoes, so we were back at our local shop, the same place where I decompensated after that morning at the symphony. My youngest son was now a senior captain on the JSerra cross country team, tall, independent, and fully versed in the ritual of purchasing trainers and flats.
