Tonight, while listening to Doc Watson’s flying bluegrass fingers play “Blackberry Blossom,” I thought of an old friend, a musician. He plays a mean version of that tune.
About a month ago, he contacted me, out of the blue. He had escaped a bad marriage and worse divorce with nothing but his instrument and clothing. We traded a few e-mails, but I was busy and said I would get back with him. Tonight, I found his address and sent him an e-mail. I got an immediate reply.
“Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently.”
Oh God. I hope he’s okay.