Of course by now most of my friends are dead, some so long ago they never had a chance to friend anyone on Facebook anyhow. And I decline most Friend offers -- don't have the patience for reading about what strangers have for breakfast every day -- though I do enjoy email each morning with an account of what Samuel Pepys did on that day back in 1661.
|PYA, Class of '43|
So it was a real lift to run in to people I knew in the last two issues of the New Yorker. Spending most of my time in bed watching old movies, or sitting at a desk overlooking a suburban back yard of Rochester New York, doesn't throw me into sophisticated circles. Every issue of that magazine has cartoons with inside references that just baffle me -- I suspect that if I lived in Manhattan I'd get the jokes.
But reading last week's article on vegetarianism, I knew I'd run into cousin Mollie Katzen sooner or later, and yup, there she was. Gave me a lift. And just now, who turns up in the latest issue but Mark Mapstone, the doctor running one of the Alzheimers studies I've been volunteering for!
So I'm feeling pretty cosmopolitan this morning.
You'll excuse me if I can't seem to find a good illustration for Alzheimers.