Abigail, In the early ‘70’s, I worked as a keypunch operator and at night helped my husband organize the medical articles he was required to read while earning his pharmacology doctorate. I had no understanding of anything in those medical journals except Lewis Thomas’ Notes Of A Biology Watcher in the New England Journal of Medicine, which led me to his books, which led me to pursue a career in Medicine and Immunology. When I first found your writing, I had no idea that there was a connection. What a happy accident.
This is beautiful. Oh my goodness, I just googled your dad's work! This feels serendipitous, as I've been reading Stephen Harrod Buhner's work on biology and plant intelligence. Thank you for sharing <3
Thank you. My father was a marvelous writer, as if his hand scacely touched the page. He wrote longhand on long yellow legal pads. Get the Medusa and the Snail or The Lives f a Cell. there are lots of others, too. He got The National Book Award for The Lives of a Cell.
Magnificent. I remember falling on The Lives of a Cell in rapture. It was one of those books I urged everyone to read. I didn't know he was also a poet.
Dear Abby, your dad could see it all. Human nature, the sloughing off of us as the only relief. It’s a hollow feeling but there’s such peace in the thought of After Us.
It was something to meet him. The four of us took a taxi over, having stopped to buy pesto which I’d never had before. Where you there when he died? What did you think of him? What did he think of you do you think?
We were all there when ne died, yes. It sounded a lot like he was weeping, but I can't be sure. I did love him, and I know he loved me. But he got sick, and he wasn't really therre for a while. Too much to say here. Yeah, I remember that supper--or was it lunch? what did you think of him? and my mother? We were a strange group.
Abigail--Your latest book, Still Life at Eighty, has become much like I remember the phone book serving. It's paper, bound, and always out in the open--not tucked into the library. It's a book I can use every day to look up something I want to dial into. So glad you wrote it. It seems like the best of all. Compared to what? Right. You'd have to read the other Abigail Thomas books to say such a thing.
Abigail, In the early ‘70’s, I worked as a keypunch operator and at night helped my husband organize the medical articles he was required to read while earning his pharmacology doctorate. I had no understanding of anything in those medical journals except Lewis Thomas’ Notes Of A Biology Watcher in the New England Journal of Medicine, which led me to his books, which led me to pursue a career in Medicine and Immunology. When I first found your writing, I had no idea that there was a connection. What a happy accident.
This softens the blow 💕
Yes, that’s a lovely way of saying it, Adam.
Adah, sorry. Didn’t notice the autocorrect before hitting return.
What beautiful words by your father. Thanks for sharing them, Abigail.
Sad but peaceful.
I like that, peaceful, yes.
This is beautiful. Oh my goodness, I just googled your dad's work! This feels serendipitous, as I've been reading Stephen Harrod Buhner's work on biology and plant intelligence. Thank you for sharing <3
Thank you. My father was a marvelous writer, as if his hand scacely touched the page. He wrote longhand on long yellow legal pads. Get the Medusa and the Snail or The Lives f a Cell. there are lots of others, too. He got The National Book Award for The Lives of a Cell.
Good morning Abigail, what a stunning poem. Thank you. xo
My father was a terrific writer. Check out his books!! And thank you.
I will indeed. Thank you for letting me know. Good morning!
Somehow soothing
isn't it? Thank you.
Magnificent. I remember falling on The Lives of a Cell in rapture. It was one of those books I urged everyone to read. I didn't know he was also a poet.
He wrote a lot of poetry in the thirties and forties, later in the eighties. Thank you.
It’s so wonderful that you have a father that writes and rights
That’s steep if I’m understanding correctly
Thank you for sharing Abigail
YES, OF COURSE YOU ARE.'
Thank you for sharing this piece by your father. Visceral and evocative... an exhale here.
THANK YOU, HE WOULD LOVE THAT.
Your father was a prescient man.
SADLY, YES.
I felt these words deep inside.
Me too, So glad you liked it.
So peaceful! ❤️
Dear Abby, your dad could see it all. Human nature, the sloughing off of us as the only relief. It’s a hollow feeling but there’s such peace in the thought of After Us.
It was something to meet him. The four of us took a taxi over, having stopped to buy pesto which I’d never had before. Where you there when he died? What did you think of him? What did he think of you do you think?
We were all there when ne died, yes. It sounded a lot like he was weeping, but I can't be sure. I did love him, and I know he loved me. But he got sick, and he wasn't really therre for a while. Too much to say here. Yeah, I remember that supper--or was it lunch? what did you think of him? and my mother? We were a strange group.
I’m thinking. I’ll write.
Abigail--Your latest book, Still Life at Eighty, has become much like I remember the phone book serving. It's paper, bound, and always out in the open--not tucked into the library. It's a book I can use every day to look up something I want to dial into. So glad you wrote it. It seems like the best of all. Compared to what? Right. You'd have to read the other Abigail Thomas books to say such a thing.
Thank you. That's high praise. I'm grateful.