Lou Pinella, Goethe, and Me
Throw in Tolstoy too, if you'd like. And the late Lucy Hayes (Mrs. Rutherford B.). We were all born on August 28, which this year is also full-moon day. I thought when I turned 60 last year I'd reached that old-age place. I was happy to be there, accepting, calm, wise. But no one told me that after that I'd have to keep getting even older! Sheesh. How could I not have thought of that on my own. But I didn't. I figured I'd arrived in the land of the old and that my position was carved out and solid. Instead of that position being solid, carved in stone, it seems to have been carved out in nothing more permananent that butter. A fine howdya-do, as we who dwell in the land of the old used to say. So I'll hang out now with others who started on my day and did their own version of moving into the land of the not-so-young: the leader of the Cubs (the only one in our group besides me not to have quite finished living yet), and the creator of Faust. Lucy Hayes too, alth