Given my time between posts, Jeffrey in Tennessee kindly writes to ask if I am ill, and the truth is, I am. Yesterday, I passed a sunglasses stand and, remembering a request from one of my employees, stopped to inquire of the very young woman running the place if she had any styles that resembled those recently worn by Bono of U2.
“Who of what?”
“Bono? You know . . . of U2? The band? ‘Sunday Bloody Sunday’?”
To say she looked at me blankly would be an understatement. She gazed at my coordinates in space-time as if they were occupied by air that was even less interesting than the air surrounding it.
I tried again, this time experimenting with volume. “You know, Bono?”
Blink. “Hold on a second.” She opened her cell phone and dialed someone. “Hey, I have a question. Do you know, um, Bon? Bono? From Yoohoo?”
“U2!” I shrieked.
“Yes: You, too. Do you know him? What kind of sunglasses does he wear? Uh huh. Uh huh. OK, great. Thanks, dad. Bye.”
Dad.
I am ill.
