I know him.  When he was a teenager, I crawled around in his head as his English Teacher.  Sadly, months ago, his wife of many years died unexpectedly.  A man in his 70s, he fell into a well of grief so deep he considered joining her.  I held my breath as he struggled to find his

Henry David Thoreau’s, Waldon Pond was assigned reading in my undergraduate years but I managed to avoid the book.  Not until my 70s when I was recuperating from surgery did  I turn to it and then, only because it was the one volume I could reach without getting out of bed.  I fl