In Which I Instruct My Social Secretary To Send My Regrets

Is it overly churlish of me to call attention to the fact that the timing of the inauguration ceremony for municipal officeholders, this coming Saturday, before the terms of the outgoing office holders expire, is just a tad premature, and a bit gauche?

If one views the planning and discussion leading to the event as a kind of  class struggle, NO won.

Also Ran

I lost an election tonight, and will soon depart from public life. Serving two terms on the City Council has been an honor granted me by my fellow citizens of New Albany, and one I will hold dear.

Best of luck to the victors in this race: David Aebersold, Dave Barksdale, and Al Knable.

Below, is a poem by Wendell Berry, from his collection, Leavings.

_________________________

In time a man disappears
from his lifelong fields, from
the streams he has walked beside,
from the woods where he sat and waited.
Thinking of this, he seems to
miss himself in those places
as if always he has been there,
watching for himself to return.
But first he must disappear,
and this he foresees with hope,
with thanks. Let others come.