“Aaaahhhh!” the babusya cried, throwing her arms wide and wrapping them around her granddaughter.[…]“Mary, this is my babusya.”

Life was neither fair nor unfair, neither cruel nor uncruel. Rather it was a tangible, real thing, precious, and not easily affordable.

Other men I have known to whom a round of Golf was so casual and frivolous a pass-time that they would seek to relieve the taedium of the game (and perhaps entertain you!) by the narration between strokes of interminable and pointless anecdotes.

Several of them were clearly highly respectable businessmen who had overcelebrated the previous evening and whose melancholic airs were born of a blend of natural hangover and of genuine mortification at their predicament.