Tag Archives: father

I’m no genius

I thought I had read Thomas Wolfe, but it turns out I haven’t.

That didn’t stop me from going to see the movie Genius, which details the publication of Wolfe’s first two novels,  and his relationship with his editor Max Perkins.

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Jude Law’s Wolfe is a loud, melodramatic Southerner, self-involved yet low in self-esteem.  Colin Firth as Perkins is his solid, steady opposite,  the voice of reason who, despite his better judgment, is drawn to Wolfe’s charm and bravado.

I expected the movie to focus on their editorial process,  and it does. But instead of passing any judgments on Wolfe as a writer,  it celebrates their relationship – –  more like a father and son than editor and writer.

Both of their families suffered at times from their single-mindedness, but no one more than Wolfe himself.

I now have Wolfe’s first book Look Homeward, Angel on hold at the library. I suppose I was charmed as well.

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So cool

When I was walking through baggage claim tonight in Terminal C at LaGuardia, I noticed a little boy — four or to five years of age, I’m guessin? — who was closely examining the wall-mounted water fountain.

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His father stood patiently to one side as his son pushed the button again and again, seemingly fascinated by the stream of water he was summoning forth.

“That is so cool,” the boy said.

“It is really cool,” his dad replied.

And then we all smiled at each other and shared the moment, which was really cool, too.

In good company

I made a new friend today in the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport.

We had electricity.

Actually, he did. He was seated next to an electrical outlet in the gate area, the only one I was able to find. And he wasn’t using it. If I wanted to, I was going to have to sit on the floor…or ask him to move down to the next open seat.

I asked and offered some candy as a bargaining chip. He said that ‘being nice’ was reward enough.

So I took his seat and charged my phone for the next hour. And I learned that he worked in Dallas and lived in Boston — where we were both headed — making the flight home every two-to-three weeks. Today he was going home for Father’s Day. His daughter was picking him up at the airport.

And when we eventually parted company to find our respective seats on the plane, I couldn’t help but think…

She’s one lucky girl.