By Tony Hoagland
Prolonged exposure to death
Has made my friend quieter.
Now his nose is less like a hatchet
And more like a snuffler.
Flames don't erupt from his mouth anymore
And life doesn't crack his thermometer.
Instead of overthrowing the government
He reads fly-fishing catalogues
And takes photographs of water.
An aphorist would say
The horns of the steer have grown straighter.
He has an older heart
that beats younger.
His Attila the Hun imitation
Is not as good as it used to be.
Everything else is better.
Pretty much all of the day that I did not spend finishing my review of Deep Space Nine's improved-with-age "Heart of Stone" working on my family's 2013 calendar -- I have a Shutterfly coupon that will expire when the weekend does and I decided to do something a little bit different this year, so I had to sort through many years of photos and upload the chosen ones. I'm still not finished but at least it's looking hopeful that I can get it printed with the big discount.
Otherwise, I enjoyed the fresh air and the neighborhood deer, chatted with younger son's girlfriend and another friend who's sleeping over, had dinner with my parents while son was out with cross country teammates, watched Nikita which is tying itself in knots that make me nervous because its ratings are dismal this season, then watched Maryland play basketball quite respectably against Kentucky. Here are photos of son over the course of several years en route to Sugarloaf Mountain's summit: