It’s a thing we Harpers do. My twin brother, having spent the night with me at my New York apartment, woke up last Tuesday feeling the need to leave for LaGuardia three hours in advance of his flight back to Chicago. He texted me a half hour after we parted, saying “Good …
In the summer of ’69, shortly after kicking myself for not going to Woodstock, I dropped acid and listened to the Traffic album for sixteen hours. Then I did the responsible thing: I went to see my parents to tell them face-to-face that I was dropping out of college. That fall, partly …