April 11, 2023
Supper last night high on a mountain in Waynesville with S and D: gnocci and asparagus. S and I lamented that roles for men our age disappear, unless someone wants to do Lear, and no one wants to do Lear. They have a rich and layered mutual life, deeply to be admired. They read great books to each other in the evenings.
DS died in his sleep. He and I feuded memorably for a while. His gripe was that I am white, mine that he was ignorant. Now he is beyond everything like that.
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