2013-07-17 - 5:11 p.m.
It is 104 degrees on my deck. My thermometer does not go much past that.
A Coleman cooler filled with ice and cans of beer. It is a miraculous thing. My cooler does American things. Sits with us at games of softball, waits for us, gives us what we want. Sweat on the lower back, soaking through the cotton T-shirt, cans of beer in your hand so cold it hurts.
I'm leaving for Tennessee in a couple of days, to talk writing. Sewanee, the place is called. Once you know how to say it, it sounds good.
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