Reports say that fourteen bunker buster bombs were dropped on Iran. Another report says that we have only six more such bombs, not enough for another raid. They need replacing. Other reports say that they cost $500 million apiece. Does the $7 billion cost come into the consideration of whether the operation was a good idea?

A young Muslim who identifies as a Democratic Socialist won the New York City Democratic mayoralty primary. If Zohran Mamdani does take office, how long will it be before Trump proclaims an “emergency” that requires, according to him, that federal troops be sent into the city?

The ad I heard was like others from funeral homes. It stressed “pre-planning.” And I wondered, Isn’t all planning, by definition, “pre?”

A new experience: On a brutally hot and humid afternoon, I parked near a hydrant. As is common in New York on such a day, the hydrant, equipped with a sprayer cap, was spewing water into the intersection. Skirting this, I walked a few blocks to Yankee Stadium. The game was interrupted several times by rain. The last was in the bottom of the eighth inning. Concerned about how long this delay would be and whether I would see the game’s conclusion, my friend said that the weather report predicted that the rain would end in seven minutes, but more was due in a half-hour. As the rain was ending, we watched a marvelous performance by the grounds crew as they hurriedly rolled up the tarp and prepared the field for the resumption of play. They, too, were aware of the weather report. The Yankees quickly secured their victory, breaking a losing streak. As we wended our way out of the Stadium, I said to my friend that I certainly needed a shower after the ninety-degree heat. When we got to the exit, my friend said that I might eschew the shower. He pointed outside where it was pouring. Neither he nor I had rain gear. We were going to get soaked. When I got near my car, after unsuccessfully trying to skip from awning to awning, I saw that the hydrant was still spraying. I thought this was redundant with the heavy downpour, but not all thought so. A middle-aged man was twirling about soaking up the rain. He then pulled out of his pocket a sliver of bar soap. Decorously reaching under his clothes, he lathered all the essential parts of his body and then went into the hydrant’s spray to rinse off. He repeated the process several times. Some passersby smiled, but he made this simultaneous washing of body and clothes seem like the natural thing to do with the rain and hydrant. As I drove off, he was still there. Although I lived in New York City for over fifty years, this was the first time I had witnessed such al fresco bathing.

The history book group’s discussion of Strangers in the Land: Exclusion, Belonging, and the Epic Story of the Chinese in America (2025) by Michael Luo included many comments about the inherent evil in humanity. Afterwards, as emails were exchanged about our next book selection, one member, after voting, added that earlier that day, he had dropped his wallet on a crosstown bus. Later the bus driver rang his apartment bell, saying that he had noticed the friend’s address was near the bus route. The driver would not take any money as a reward. The friend noted that “both decided against a hug.” The friend said that was trying to get a commendation noted in the driver’s file and concluded: “Maybe there’s hope for humankind after all.”

The friend’s experience reminded me of how often we (I) can forget random acts of kindness, but it had me remembering a call I got soon after Covid vaccines were available. The caller told me that he had found my vaccine card on the subway steps and thought that I might need it since proof of vaccination then was necessary to get into some public places. That card did not have identifying information besides my name, but the caller told me that he did internet searches to find my phone number. We arranged to meet, and I got my card back. He did take a modest reward, and I was more than happy to give it to him.