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After fours years of talking about it and even one trip to the shelter, big Al and I have finally done it. We got ourselves a brand new kitty (from Craig's List, of all things). Luna Lovegood is 7 weeks old, a teeny ball of fur, who likes to go 10 rounds with my toes and to sleep in Alex's slippers. We are wandering around the apartment following her every move like blathering idiots, doing our best to keep from over-handling her but failing pretty miserably. It's hard to think of what more life has to offer than a slightly confused and deeply ambitious little circle of fuzz and whiskers. Of course she's named after the Harry Potter character - our favorite - seeing as she arrived during this Harry Potterist of all months. You can bet you'll be getting updates!

Here's the mad photographer, my recently departed visitor, capturing the particular magic of the super-sonic hand dryers out at Two Lights State Park. Thought I'd share this little work of art with you, and use it as an excuse to mention that the long-neglected Vault is back up (for who knows how long?). One of Mike's gifts to me was a recording of a concert I gave 18 years ago at Bard College. A recording I didn't have. So go check me out in my most James Taylor wannabe phase. [Special note to my students: if you download this, and play it for me as a joke in class, you automatically fail.]

The season of visitors finds me well this year. Mike K, accompanied by Jen, spent two glorious days with us, including the 4th of July. Mike is one of my oldest friends. I met him when I auditioned for a play he was stage managing - the Importance of Being Ernest. I was 13 at the time, and Mike was maybe 15, and we became fast friends. Neither Mike nor I were seriously theatre people, but it was a good pretext for that important coming together. Mike opened up the world to me in its strangeness and glory - rescued me for the hopeless boredom and stifle of Great Neck normality. We played Moon Dust and listened to Ziggy Stardust, and through Mike I met a bevy of strange and wonderful people - musicians, poets, an odd little counter-culture right there in a hometown where only ostentatious wealth and crass materialism ever counted for anything. We were in a bunch of bands together, starting with the wonderfully named Daysleepers (the name's now been stolen by some other bunch of hacks), and also some bands apart - there were rivalries. We both wound up at Bard College, and we both became close with the recently departed Humske. So it was particularly good to see him up here - in light of recent events and all. We played and played, hit Two Lights, Fort Williams, Mackworth Island, all the haunted and beautiful spots within clawing distance. (Speaking of clawing, we cooked us up some lobsters as well). But mostly just reveled in each other's company. Somehow 7 years popped up since our last visit together, and before that another 5, so that we find ourselves gathering and reminiscing and also approaching middle age. Look at our bodies going to hell, our minds dimming slightly in the receding light - marching forward toward our lives' mid-afternoon. When your "from away" to the extent that I am, having someone at hand who was at the scene when you became you, well, it's hearty stuff.

And then on he went. Off to other visits and then back to his home base three thousand miles to the left. We'll see each other again in five or seven or eleven years, or maybe - I hope - sooner. But the true value of old friends grows increasingly clear to me with every passing afternoon.