The above photo was taken Christmas Eve 1958 when our house in New Canaan caught fire. My diary burned to a crisp but the firemen saved most of our Christmas presents. A wise woman, Jane Eager, once told me to keep a daily journal. In old age, she explained, your journal is far better reading than the most delightful novel. (I inherited her journals, but most of the good parts had been removed.) I have kept a yearly journal, though not assiduously. Some years have weeks of blanks. My 1982 journal and one of a trip to France went missing some years back. We've lived in this house for 20 years. I keep thinking they must be here somewhere, and periodically, I upend everything in a fruitless search. I used to have a very good memory. Now it's sieve-like. My mother died of Alzheimer disease. My kids groan when I bring up something from past, (I'm currently reading 1994) but I am glad I followed Jane's advice. I just hope I remember who "H", "A" and "N" are.
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