Possibly I am not alone in an
inheritance from my father of
a preference for a little less
"truth and reconciliation" in
"frank and open discussion" of
shared catastrophe, than many
propose today, possibly because
of subjunctive and conditional
constructions of speech we are
given, to hedge our testimony.
I respect the rigors of reti-
cence, even more than the ec-
stasies of complaint and con-
fession. I trust their prize.
Today would be the 101st birth-
day of the only man my culture
could countenance, after for-
mative years, my having loved.
Our private catastrophes, which
were notable enough at the time,
led us both to experience being
witnesses to transition we were
adapted to appraising only with
amazement, and shared sorrow.
People say, on the strength of
a couple of speeches, that this
culture is changing. As much as
we have been educated to observe
what did go wrong, in strangers
of long ago, we tend to sense a
disconnect from theories when we
engage in each other's lives. An
honest man reads Horace just this
way.
Moderation, reticence. I celeb-
rate a father. This is his leg-
acy, if one could claim it. Do
go gentle, rage not against the
dark. Arms are near. Open them.
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