Yesterday, esteemed colleague was ending his long labors and preparing to put himself out to green pastures. And we, his collaborators over the years, were joining with him in celebration. We plied him with food, drink, music, and thoughtful gift, and we were all a-smile. But, quite suddenly, when I tried to relax my smile, I could not, for it had become fixed, a look of pain. To avoid embarrassment, I looked out a window. And there, in the near and mid-distance, I saw the scene that awaited.
Getting on this bus is not easy, dragging the just three year old Timothy dressed up in a pair of my high heels, his sister Alexandra’s outgrown dress (which she never wore anyway – she’ll only wear designer jeans), and his grandmother’s old corset on top.