One year ago right now I was in Belgium. Right now I sit in the glow of sunrise in central NH wishing I could have repeated the visit.
Last night a colleague, my student teacher and I went to the local university to hear Donald Hall read from his current book Unpacking Boxes and to have him sign our copies. He's mellowed a bit in recent years, having had a stroke and living alone on the family farmstead a dozen miles from my house. He's let his beard and hair grow, he's given up tweed wool jackets for a rumpled Hawaiian shirt, and his thin hands shake as he signs each book handed to him. On the other hand, he'll be 80 years old tomorrow on what the governor of our state has proclaimed to be Donald Hall Day in honor of his substantial body of work, his Poet Laureateships of both the state of NH and of the USA, and for his unending support of this state that he loves.
One of the pieces he read last night was about being stopped as he was driving just down the road from our high school one evening and being arrested, essentially, for Driving While Old. Get Unpacking Boxes: it'll be an amusing read.
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