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I know a guy whose wife fell in love with another man. She told him about it first thing in the morning on a summer day. She then went to start the coffee. What did you do? I asked. Just lay abed, he said, listening to her puttering in the kitchen. Everyone thinks that awful comes by itself, but it doesn’t. It comes hand in hand with normal. No one talks about this. You’re watching the basketball game when the phone rings and you find out your grandfather didn’t wake up this morning.
VERMONT POET AND PLAYWRIGHT David Budbill died this past September at the age of seventy-six. He had a rare form of Parkinson’s disease. A self-described “mountain recluse,” Budbill modeled his life and work in part on those of the ancient Chinese hermit poets he admired. Though his poems sometimes contained references to Eastern philosophy, he wrote in a simple, accessible style.
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