My brother Randy called me last evening as their cruise to Alaska sailed out of Seattle. He and Jo are making this cruise for my dad, who begged me, as well as my other siblings, every year for the last 12 of his life to take a month off and drive with him to Alaska. I always told him I was busy because I knew that, after two weeks on the road, either he or I would end up leaving the other on the side of the road to walk home.
So, Randy and Jo's cabin is directly opposite rooms 1921 and 1923, the years in which our parents were born. He was a little spooked by that.
After that, I had really weird dreams last night: I was working at the Drama Book Shop when it was at Seventh Avenue and 48th Street, only the elevators were broken and you had to enter through the basement, where the stock rooms were like post-holocaust nightmares of endless space and cartons of books. Several friends from Barnes and Noble were working there, as well as a lot of people I knew at the Drama Book Shop, some living and some now dead.
