... it's me again
I have recently been contacted by one of your editorial board members who shall
remain nameless - except to mention that he is quite elderly, but still retains a
penchant for motorcycles. Anyway this gentleman inquired into my recent prolonged
absence from this fine publication. In the process he blew a considerable amount of
smoke my way as he massaged my ego and suggested that I make some further
contributions. My literary Muse has not abandoned me and I still have a pulse. So
how can I resist?
I have recovered quite nicely from my aortic heart valve replacement as of last
January and I am now in possession of a valve made from a cow's tissue. The only downside is my wife complaining that I wake her up at night with what she suggests sounds very like a bovine going ... moooo.
Truth to tell, I was suffering from a bad case of deep funk. You see, for some time I had been anticipating a long-distance phone call from a party, speaking in heavily accented Norwegian, informing me that I had won the Nobel Prize forliterature and that a round-trip airline ticket to Oslo would soon be in the mail. I regret to say that no such call was ever forthcoming. Oh well...into each life some rain must fall. I have, however, exacted a small measure of retribution in that I no longer buy canned Norwegian sardines.
July 6, 2012