From the June 11 New Yorker, we get tasty new Charles D’Ambrosio. It’s short, it’s an essay, but still provides you with seven essential vitamins and D’Ambrosios. Excerpt:
As a kid, I rarely went to the movies. My one
memory of a summer movie is of a movie about somebody else’s summer, a
nostalgic look back—way back!—to the “Summer of ’42.” I believe the
movie is famous for a funny scene about buying condoms, but perhaps all
summer movies feature some amusing scene with condoms. I wouldn’t know.
grew up one of seven children in a family where making plans took up
about as much time as executing those plans, and even the most
meticulously arranged and carefully orchestrated day failed to satisfy
everyone. One person’s idea of a good time always bored somebody else.
The older kids were jaded about what the younger ones were just
beginning to experience. A piano lesson would be scotched because a
trip to the dentist couldn’t wait. Over time, invisible strings slowly
tethered one child to the next, and those two hooked up with a third,
and so on and so on, so that movement by one led to a lot of jerking of
the others, and freedom, if not impossible, was always a tangled mess.