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.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Cautious Optimism
Dire as the prediction may be we can always say, "It hasn't happened yet"; just as when difficulty arises we say, "We're still here, so that wasn't so bad." This optimism -- benighted though it may be -- is probably best seen as an asset, though foolishness might better be seen as its name.
Labels:
denial,
foolishness,
naming,
optimism
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