(Sorry folks, i know, this is a sad subject with which to commence blogging on this site):
Say a prayer for the author of this essay, David Foster Wallace (and his family), who was found dead at his home in Claremont last Friday (ironically, also the day of the horrendous Metrolink crash in Chatsworth).
I would not have known about this piece on Roger, my hero and my favorite tennis player, had it not been mentioned along with the news of David's death.
Previously, i'd read two other essays on tennis that David wrote, on Tracy Austin and Michael Joyce (Maria Sharapova's coach), which are available through our library system, and which are funny, insightful and stylistically brilliant, better than anything every written on our sport, by a man who had played competitive tennis in college and knew what he was talking about, not only as an observer but from the inside.
In addition to tennis, David wrote essays on literature, politics, and popular culture, and was an acclaimed novelist as well. Check him out. But now is the time for your tears....
4 comments:
Great incipient effort, Grumpster. Thanks for taking the plunge.
wow, excellent word, incipient, i kind of knew what it meant but had to look it up anyways just to make sure...good to be aboard, i hope yours isn't my sole response though...
I'm no stranger to depression, but I hope if and when I finally succumb to it, I won't do it where a loved one has to find me hanging.
Maybe when you get to that point, you don't care about who you hurt or being selfish...just want an ending.
thank you, anonymous, for your heartfelt comments...it had been reported that Pomona College, where David taught, would be holding a memorial service, in which case i was going to attend, but now i read that won't be happening, instead a service is planned in New York City, not sure when... so all i can do now is keep David's soul, along with his family and friends, in my prayers...
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