Karine and I have been feeling a little homesick lately. Its not chronic and its not terminal, just a feeling. We've been away for almost two years now. We're going to be away for another year. After that, we don't know. That part is still in the planning stages. We may go home, we may live in another county, we may open an ice-cream shop on the beach somewhere. We'll see.
In the meantime, I'm going to be writing about Mark Twain until futher notice. Because nothing feels more like home than Mark Twain. He's everybody's American grandpa. And we still have a lot to learn from him.
I am a librarian. I have five biographies of Twain sitting on my desk right now. I also have his autobiography, which is mostly lies sprinkled with the truth here and there.
Alright then. Here we go.