My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Wanting Fairness
Even as they listen they are preparing to ask how to make it better, not hearing that there is nothing to be done. They so want life to be fair, they miss all reference to permanent damage and irreversible process. Because it should be fair, the absence of it becomes so hard to hear.
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