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.