When my dad switched from living to dying my mother took up solitaire. As soon as there were computers she spent her life at them, writing books, preparing syllabuses, whatever else tenured professors at ivy league schools do. She was happy there, creating, editing, annotating. The super speedy click of her long polished fingernails on the keyboard was the constant, comforting sound track of my childhood. In one of his last acts of rebellion in the not long enough life of a rebel my dad had Read more […]

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