of memoirs and musings

When I left him that afternoon, he walked me out into a steady downpour. "Ah, a light rain," he said appreciatively, guiding me to my car. "In Sicily, in a rain like this, a man will always walk as slowly as possible, to show he isn't affected." And as the car pulled away, and I saw him standing in the driveway in the rain, on his way to Irian Jaya, I thought back to the line of Edgar's at the end of Lear:
"we that are young / Shall never see so much nor live so long."