Thank you

Aight. Turkey day in the rearview and a pound of leftovers slowly digesting in my tummy so its time to spread some good cheer.

First off, thank you to everyone who read the book, took the time to tell others about it, took the time to drop a note.

Thank you also to the woman who wrote from Australia to talk about The Unheard, to the woman from South Africa who wrote to share her story of deafness. Thanks to the man in New Mexico who, after hearing my interview with Scott Simon on NPR, dropped me a line to ask if I was ok and to say that, hey, life happens and is hard for everyone.

Thank you for the Democratic presidential debates. Intelligent people who can speak in complete sentences and really care about the future of this planet! Who are fighting to have responsibility for this mess! It warms my heart.

Thank you for brothers. Thank you for dogs. Thank you for Fall. Thank you implants, for the sound of several thousand leaves getting hit by a sudden strong November wind and whiplashing to the ground.

Thank you for Al Gore. Thank you for modern cancer treatment. For E-Z pass lanes, for the guy on the corner who, while I was taking the dogs for a walk the other night, peed against a closed storefront, turned around and said “damn, it’s cold. That a pit bull?”

Thank you for laundry machines, for a lamp shaped like a duck, for sitting on the subway and suddenly remember a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon.

For memories. For the realization that memories are an extension of this current moment. For the realization that all of life is but this moment. For being startled out of a funk by that realization, and then passing gas loudly just because.

For a friend out serving and saving the world and now living in an air-conditioned windowless shipping container in Djibouti.

For turning on the TV last night and catching the last hour of Rocky IV, the most ridiculous cheesefest ever filmed. For taking a walk at night and seeing the moon directly overhead, round and large and close, the old man in there smiling like someone’s told a dirty joke. (“What is the joke, old man? What is the joke? Is it on me? Tell me!”)

For family, for friends like family. For friends like friends. For strangers. For strangers like friends. For family like strangers. And what about acquaintances? And enemies? And enemies that were once friends, friends like family? I’m lost. Thanks for them all.

For sports. For aches and pains. For ibuprofen washed down with a sip of whiskey.

For days with nothing to do. For days with too much to do. For days you step in doo-doo because your neighbor (friend? Acquaintance?) doesn’t clean up after his bull mastiff.

For the woman I get to share my life with, whom I not worthy of, but who, hopefully, won’t catch on.

There are a few events in the next couple weeks and some big and exciting book fairs in the spring – all the information is on (or should shortly be on) the appearances page of the website. Around Xmas, I’m off to spend a month at Yaddo, a writer’s colony upstate at the foot of the Adirondacks, to begin my next book. I’m excited about the opportunity and the project and look forward to telling you more about it when the time comes. Thank you – please feel free to add your own thanks below.