David Halberstram died Monday--his car was broadsided by another car in Menlo Park, which is an hour away from where I live. This saddens me-with DH gone and Kurt Vonnegut's death two weeks ago, it feels like the old guard is slowly disappearing.

I only read one of Halberstram's books called Firehouse. It was a small book but extraordinary in its power, about focusing on one firehouse in NYC and how Sept.11th changed everything. Half the men never came back. I had to put the book down for a while when a woman saw her son helping people out of the building, so she was relieved he was okay. What she didn't know was when he ran back to rescue more people, the tower collapsed.

Eeek. I'm really depressing. I had to skip Sopranos because of what happened last week.

Anyway, when I think of DH I think of this series Garry Trudeau did on him years ago on Doonsbury when DH was trying to interview Rick Redfern. Rick's girlfriend Joannie answers the phone and she asks him what he writes. "Tomes. I write tomes, Joan."

Who will write the tomes now?

Sigh.

I'm trying to lighten up; I'm taping Dancing With The Stars, I'm reading The Fortune Quilt by Lani Diane Rich, I saw Marie Antroinette this weekend on DVD and I really think Sofia Coppola did a good job with the film. I loved the pastel look of the film and how beautiful it looked. Next I'm getting Stranger than Fiction and Keeping Mum, both of them are comedies so hopefully they will make me laugh.