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.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Endings and Beginnings
Whole worlds can end with a single mistake. Entire lives are unwound by one error in judgment. It does not seem fair, though fair is never the question, and were we willing to be a bit more thorough we might see in the endings and undoings occasions to begin again, to alter the course of life.
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