“A photo, private once, on fifty walls.”

My day on September 11 was occupied with two pleasant events: a picnic for the Munchkin’s new preschool, and the West Coast celebration of the East Coast, June wedding of two lovely members of my congregation. So I not only failed to post on that day, as I had intended to do, but failed to carry out what has become an annual ritual of reading John Ford’s poem “110 Stories.”

However, I got to it a couple of days later, and I recommend it to everyone. Tip of the keyboard to my friend Abbie, who first brought it to my attention and, like me, reads it at least once a year. Each time a different line strikes me hardest. This time it was the above.