On the train to New Haven, somewhat crowded, a young woman got on with a small pet carrier and a large suitcase and looked around quizzically for a place to sit and put her bag. Ever the gallant, I offered to put her bag on the upper rack for her.
Turns out it was a bad idea, cuz the bag was heavy as all get out, and I seem to have yoinked my back a little. I'm sure it will be better in time, but it might hurt tomorrow morning. Such is life.
My cousin Neva's husband Tim recently married off his daughter Nola while in excruciating pain from what turned out to be cancer that required a bone marrow transplant.* I'll make it through this graduation. Probably if I dressed more like a 56-year old I'd act more like one.
*I guess that's probably a leukemia of some sort. I have successfully maintained a studied ignorance of many of the details of cancer, just because I know that commanding them won't help me sleep better.
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