Nothing much to write about today. It’s a sunny but chilly Sunday in Arizona, a cold wind blowing through the arbor vitae in back, reminding me of northern autumns I used to dread, the dying of the year, the beginning of another school year with too many apathetic students ignoring me, chatting away through what I considered important lessons about literature and writing skills. I guess that feeling was present only in my final five years of teaching. I’d always thought I’d continue teaching into my seventies, always believing I had important things to say to my students, believing their enthusiasm would keep me young forever. I was wrong, and I decided to leave when I was only sixty, taking my retirement benefits with me to Arizona, breathing a deep sigh over what I was leaving behind. That was eighteen years ago and I still regret not being able to use what I know about important concepts, like great writers who said great things, said them in great ways. I’ve always thought it cruelly ironic that when we get really good at something, it’s time to give it up to wait for death. Just one of the cosmos’ cruel practical jokes. But that’s enough about regrets.
It’s Sunday. The Diamondbacks lost a heartbreaker in their final game against the Milwaukee Brewers. But what a great run they made of the season. And the Cardinals today have a chance to get to 2-3 if they can beat the winless Vikings. And Tiger is looking all right in the Frys.com Open this week, not the old great he used to be, but all right. He now has a balky driver and a balky putter, but the game in between still looks good. I so hope he can pull it back before I die (there I go again, with morbid thoughts of death). I want to be able to rub it into all those who so want him to fail. They say he’s too cocky (no pun intended), immoral (and this in an age of immorality), grabbing too much of the media attention (as though he’s the one who dictates who the media should focus on). Actually, they simply hate him for the color of his skin. We still live in an age of racial prejudice although it’s receding like a bad dream. Every generation that dies away allows the next generation to reduce racial animosity until one day no one will even think about it. Phillip Wylie once said he looked forward to a time when we’re all the same tan color. I guess I do too. But that’s still a number of generations away, and I’ll be long gone by then. Okay, it’s Sunday. Go, Cardinals.