I got back from New York City at 2:30 am Friday – with a cold. But apart from that, and the midtown gridlock that made I-95 look like a country road in Montana (the UN General Assembly was in session), and the hotel room that reminded me of a Thurber drawing (“A hotel room in Louisville”), it was a pleasant trip. I didn’t do much; I was unusually focused on preparing for my talk, which was attended by people who appear in various chapters of my memoir. Hence my anxiousness; it’s easier to talk to a hundred strangers than to a roomful of friends and acquaintances. But the talk went well, and afterwards I reconnected with old colleagues, some of whom I hadn’t seen since 1978. One of the joys of publishing a memoir.
