The old stories often center on this theme. On hubris, on errors of judgement, on misreading some sign or another. These stories have morals, too. Often of eternal pain or worse. And that is where Wednesday evening found D. Crouching in the black drizzle, grasping pots with numb fingers and bailing murky water out from our window wells. The plus side, you ask? Now, back to the window wells.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011. I did not make this story up. The first week of August in 2011, I had the opportunity to go visit my good friend Jim down in NY state for a long weekend of canoeing, camping and fun. Every couple of years I visit Jim in Westtown, NY. We traveled in Up with People together in the year 2000 and have kept in touch. At this point I remember the rain picking up. It no longer was steady, it was now just pouring down.

Friday, March 12, 2010. 9 months ago, I weighed 147, was running about 3 miles a day, and was still a bit more fat than muscle. 2 miles a day at a 9 mph pace but still live in the same apartment in Denver. He lives in Washington DC. He works as a journalist. Sunday, June 7, 2009.