On your MARC...

I write you from the gently-swaying sumptuousness of a MARC commuter train, gliding home in quiet, dignified comfort, befitting a day well-spent in productive labor.

OK, I'm probably a little excited about it now, but it's been years since I've taken the train for my regular commute from Columbia to DC. Though I've said many times that I don't mind the drive down to the Metro at Greenbelt, I find that I mind even less the 7-minute drive to the Dorsey train station. And with the price of gas double what it was when I last a MARCsketeer, I don't mind shaving 40 miles of driving from my daily routine. Plus, the MARC gives more space and more uninterrupted time than does Metro to do useful things, like write The Hollerer. (Now if only I could actually post it from the train...)

A new commute is part of settling in at my new job at Greengate. In fact, it will become a proper job next Monday when I switch from working under a short-term contract to being employee #1 of the firm. (Actually, they have not dubbed me "employee #1", but if I claim it, who's around to argue with me?) I'm pleased and excited. I've enjoyed this job for the last two months, and I've learned a good bit. Admittedly, a lot of it has been about copiers and phones as I coordinated our recent move to a new office, but doing some of everything is part and parcel of working in a firm of four, and something I looked forward to when I accepted the job in May. I get on well with my three bosses, or so it seems; none of them suspiciously pick up the phone or leave on international travel when I knock on their door. This job is a great opportunity, and I couldn't expect to be more pleased by it.

Honoring Aunt Debbie

My Aunt Debbie, Mom's eldest sister, passed away last spring. This last weekend, Kerry and I spent a couple of days in Duxbury, her hometown, with her sisters, children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews, remembering her life. The capstone was a beautiful time, arranged by Debbie's children, at the arboretum of her old home. The arboretum itself is a lovely sight, designed and first created by Debbie's father, my Grampie, then in turn re-created by Debbie. Around the edges of the large yard were about 25 pieces of Aunt Debbie's artwork, from the meticulous and inventive collages of the last ten years, to photographic portraits, poetry, letters and cards, and even some of the books she wrote for her grandchildren. As her eldest daughter, Melanie, put it, it was as much an art show as a memorial, and the many family and friends of Debbie there truly appreciated the chance to remember and revisit her creative spirit. There were also numerous photos of Debbie's life with family and friends, which called up fine memories. The entire event was wholly fitting and moving; I am certain she would have appreciated it.

As at any memorial, there was also the joy of seeing family whom we see too infrequently, in this case Debbie's sisters, children, grandchildren, etc, mentioned above. We were together less than 48 hours, but all under one roof - a 350-year-old roof, at that - we were able to catch up quickly. We are intending a reunion next year in South Carolina, reprising a great gathering in the summer of 2002. We are already looking forward to it.

Harry Potter - spoiler-free

Kerry and I finished Harry Potter and the Unbelievable Piles of Money on our way to West Virginia last weekend. (OK, we really finished it after arriving that night, but there were less than 10 pages to do at that point.) It was good, maybe the most twisty of the books yet. We like the way the series keeps growing through its characters. (All credit to J. K. Rowling for letting Harry become a whiny git in book 5, but thank heavens he's passed that phase.) So we're marking our calendars for a few years hence, when we'll re-read books 1-6 and be properly prepared for the conclusion of the series.

By the bye, the author's name rhymes with "bowling", not "howling". I've been botching it all along.

Unsettling Adam Smith

1. William is as passionate and insightful about commercial media as anyone I know.
2. He has worked in IT since undergrad and is now going to law school.

In light of (1) and (2), I'm having a hard time with the free market's efficient allocation of resources.

Natural Wonder

The Holler is blessed with a kind of firefly that neither Kerry nor I have seen elsewhere. The same size, color, and brightness as typical fireflies, these distinguish themselves with short, repeated flashes of light, like a strobe, and by flying and flashing to the very tops of our trees. They also swarm in great numbers well past sundown. Last night, we walked to a small wooded park in the neighborhood and saw a line of trees filled with these fireflies. It looked like a stadium full of people taking pictures. Or in my mind, always trying to find patterns, I could see moments of chaser lights around a marquee, or a flashing arrow ("We're Open!"). Most of all, though, it was simply an amazing sight, a wondrous sight that I would never have imagined.