|But we in it shall be remember'd;:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;:
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me:
Shall be my brother;...
Hill trudged the brave curmudgeons ... to ultimately face the mountain
|White Noise by Don Delillo was considered and discussed in the warm Pagosa sunshine. Details may be found here and the Poet Laureate's rendition is here.|
|Some time was
eked out for libations and sustenance... as it turned out, no
blood was shed however a little Chianti was spilled.
||Some members felt the absurdity of life that DeLillo so humorously and artfully described was understood by Maggie.|