I was going to bombast about something, but then I realized I just didn’t want to be that way as I write this, in the evening of October 18. Fact is, it’s almost four years to the hour that my father died. I’ve come to realize from now on, October 16 and 17 are going to be maudlin. It is a fact I need to face and deal with, then accept it.
This evening the Red Sox won the ALCS. If the Braves couldn’t get into the World Series, I’m glad Boston is. Once again, it is all about the past and about memories. I think about my father, and my favorite baritone who would have been fifty-six tomorrow. And I think about this man.
When the Red Sox get into the World Series, it’s all about the history. I think about where we were two short years ago, when our Beloved Dmitri made his triumphal return to the Metropolitan Opera.
It’s all over.
They’re gone: My father, Ted Williams, Dmitri Hvorostovsky.
I remember hearing something in a movie, I don’t remember what it was, that you reach a point where life takes more than it gives. I now understand. I think life does take more than it gives.