Dear Diary:
Even though I was suffering that feeling of a sleeping squirrel waking out of a sound slumber and then battling ferociously with itself behind my right kneecap, the weather was so pleasant this August morning I had to leave my hovel and take a walk in my neighborhood, the Upper West Side. There I was, dragging my hobbled right leg up West 84th Street toward Columbus Avenue, when I noticed a colorful display of outdoor art produced by children attending P.S. 9. I whipped out my camera and avidly shot pictures of each sculpture.
A fellow passer-by around my age, over 40 but under death, was walking a hound. While his dog was getting familiar with a hubcap, he stopped to stare at the exhibit with me. I gushed, “Great kid art, don't ya think?â€
He sniffed, “Amateurs.â€
Mr. McSour did not change my opinion, but I did make a mental note, “When planning fu n, don't invite him.â€
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