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February 6, 2016
It doesn't feel like a day for anything here. What it feels like is Saturday. Memory takes me back to the dorm in Ann Arbor and shopping on South University on a winter day for Christmas for my mother. I buy her a large acrylic hourglass. It was probably something I couldn't afford. She still has it some fifty years later even though the acrylic is starting to form bubbles from decomposing. I thought that stuff was supposed to last forever. It is like my father says after all. Nothing lasts forever, not you, not me, nothing. Sobering that thought.