I have read that David Thoreau, hero of live-simply-and-off-the-grid, periodically went home so his mother could do his laundry. Is that true?

The young man was wearing what appeared to be a tiny flask on a chain around his neck. I asked, “Does it contain a magic potion?” “No,” he replied, “some ashes from my dead dog.”

Class notes from my college alumni magazine reported on an alum who had retired after four decades in the medical sales field. He said that he was now doing what he always wanted to, play Santa Claus. Besides telling us about his Santa company, he also proudly reported that he had been inducted into the International Santa Claus Hall of Fame. Who knew?

Who first said “boots on the ground”? I hope that I will soon know the last to use the cliché. Boots don’t kill. Boots don’t get killed. Boots don’t lose a leg, an arm, an eye. Boots don’t get PTSD. Boots don’t leave loved ones behind. People do. Let’s talk about people in combat, not footwear.

What does it take to get into heaven? If it is not doing harm to others, I may stand a chance. If it is how much good is done to others, I am not so sure. If it is the amount of sycophantic praying to an Almighty, I won’t make it.

The local library asked me: “Please tell us about a favorite book, that provided inspiration, guidance, laughter.” I responded:

I have no favorite book. At different times, different books have been meaningful or touching or captivating. What was important at eight or thirteen would not be now. At one point, I read Huckleberry Finn every year. I no longer do. At one point, I read a Charles Dickens book every summer. I no longer do. When I first read Moby Dick, I just saw it as boring. Several decades later, I thought that it was marvelous. I thought Bleak House was wonderful when I first read it. When I picked it up again thirty years later, I could not finish it. However, I have read The Great Gatsby three or four times and each time I was awed by it. Nonfiction has also been important. Especially influential to me and many others is John Rawls, A Theory of Justice. There are many books that have added to my life. I hope that there are more to come.

Amanda Chapman writes in the Acknowledgements to Mrs. Christie at the Mystery Guild Library, “Someone once said that any author who claims they don’t write in their bathrobe is a damn liar.” I decided long ago that you don’t need to know what I wear and don’t wear when I write for the blog.

Often when I hear a group singing “Sweet Caroline,” I realize that it is an overwhelmingly white group some of whom are at least slightly inebriated and who feel that they are meaningfully bonding into some sort of community through their singing. And given the chance, they will soon be singing about a long-lost shaker of salt.