As I write, the election remains undecided.
I’ve been reading a long profile of the late Toni Morrison in The New Yorker (“Ghosts in the House,” Oct 27, 2003). In it she recalled her family’s instinctive and deep-seated mistrust of white people. Morrison’s memory struck a chord, because I’ve only recently come to appreciate the extent to which I share it.
I swear, these God-bothering scolds keep padding their lists.
I’ve been reading about the content moderators who review objectionable content posted to social media, and the psychological toll constant exposure to “the Internet’s panoply of jerks, racists, creeps, criminals, and bullies” takes on them.
I don’t have a high opinion of presidents in general, but I didn’t appreciate the importance of the leadership they provide until Trump took office and there wasn’t any.
We’re back from a weekend in Las Vegas; in addition to visiting with our son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren, we picked up a used car from an old friend who wanted to help our daughter Polly out. We and our two dogs drove up together Friday; Monday we drove home in separate cars, one dog riding […]