July 12, 1999

Minutiae from another Brother Tom day. Most of our days are like this progression of no large things, just a simple step here then here then here.

I remember silent resentment of people in line behind me at Office Max. I had a somewhat large, not-so-complicated order; and it was just enough to distort the young cashier's sense of how to do it. So everything slowed down. But in the end I walked out with a receipt for six large bookcases which will be delivered sometime between 8 and 5 tomorrow. It will be a good day for reading.

When I got home I set to rearranging my boxes, clearing a space for bookcase assembly sometime over the next few days. I feel better just seeing this big open space of rug. Of course, the other room is crammed with it all...but I don't have to look at it.

Then I read a couple essays in Cross-Talk in Comp Theory and did not fall asleep. I followed this with a good listen to Arvo Pärt's awesome Kanon Pokajanen. Then, intending a quick ten minute email check, I find myself in somewhat longer IM chats with Jeff and Amber. Jeff is reading Catcher in the Rye and liking it. I'll be teaching it in the coming school year. I think it is a book to carry through a lifetime, despite or because of its adolescent voice. It's a voice we never completely lose, I think. Amber missed her Meals on Wheels service today, but she probably needed the extra sleep anyway. Well, in the email I found dire warnings from my sister about the perils of consuming stuff with aspartame (Nutra-Sweet, et al), which they say turns into poison at higher temperatures. It's always something.

By now it's time for dinner. I join Jay and Dom at the Rockland Cafe for a tasty tuna wrap, rice, ice tea, pickle, dead lettuce on the side. Not too bad if you forgive the lettuce. We took a drive through Lake Bluff, which is a weird comfy melange of great big houses crammed together among huge trees, bushes, and lots of shady gardens. And we pause to ponder Wealth, Immensity, and Lake Michigan.

While I'm running the track in the cool evening, Dom is walking it, and some kid is kicking footballs through the goalposts with frightening accuracy at various distances. Dom says he's not one of ours.