4 April 1980
Your beautiful spring greeting reached me and embraced me and thrilled me. Here in California we have spring and winter and summer fifty times a year, up-and-down, in-and-out, blending into each other making everybody crazy, including the skiers who shoosh down from the San Bernardino mountains, change quickly into shorts while negotiating the lower part of the hills, then diving into the pacific at Santa Monica, skis and all, the skkiing [sic] now being water skiiiiiiing. Isn’t it much better to live in solid, conservative Toronto where a winter is a winter, a spring a spring and a summer a summer – sault?
How is G.? Summersaulting in the Swiss alps? Or cauterwailing in Toronto? As a minister said a wedding in Norway “Well, I bless the couple of course, but why had the groom gone all the way to Aalesund, three miles away, when there were so many worthy maidens ready here in Kristiansund, even among his next-door-neighbors?”
Yes or no, aren’t humans strange and fidgety? Why not indeed? And when I married, the minister looked furiously at me and barked “How do I know that this marriage will last???” You dummy, thought I, but aloud I said “Oh well, Evelyn is so steadfast and loving so…” Shot back the cleric: “I dinna ask ye to tell me about how ye think Evelyn may be. What about yarself, ya hoodlum??” To which I answered nothing. What do I know about this “self?” But it lasted at least until now, 33 years. Not bad, eh? So was he wrong that minister? His suspicions were wrong, voicing them was wronger. Not his business. Even though he was in good faith, but dumb faith.
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