One of the reasons I enjoy my long rides north out of town is that I can get NPR on my radio, WAMC out of Albany. (The mountains block the reception at the homestead.) On the way back from my daughter’s after Thanksgiving, I had a chance to hear an interview with Norman Mailer when he was at Hunter College last January.
I was able to find this blog post, which not only displays a photo of Mailer from last May, but offers some of Mailer’s best lines from his Hunter College interview. Unfortunately, the post doesn’t include his comments about death.
Mailer died on November 11.
From what I remember about what I heard him say in the taped interview, Mailer hinted at believing that we all come back, that there is some kind of reincarnation that happens. He told this story (and I’m paraphrasing.)

And that’s what Mailer had to say about dying.
Whatever happens, happens.
If I’m thinking a lot about death these days, I’m sure you’ll understand.
A small herd of deer made it’s way across our property yesterday. Today, a herd of happy hunters, dressed in the season’s camouflage, gathered at the local apple orchard stand, loading up with cider donuts and hot apple cider.
I just missed hitting a possum that ran in front of my car this evening.
My mom sleeps, eats, goes to the bathroom, sleeps, eats……
At least the new meds seem to make her less depressed.
Whatever happens, happens.

The following post is by MYRLN, a non-blogger who is Kalilily Time’s guest writer every Monday.
POOR GUY
Dear G.W., Prez of US of A,
You must be feeling really bad about the way these veterans are acting towards you and your administration. Saying nasty things and all, after all you’ve done for them, too. Ungrateful don’t quite cover it, does it? Closer to being treasoners is maybe more like it, like that old pro, Chaney, says, no?
I mean, look at how you tried to help’em, making their lives better and all when most of them didn’t have a pot to pee in before and nothing that would let’em throw back their shoulders and be proud about what they were doing for once in their lives. Here you go and start 2 wars for them and get them signed up to go to Iraq and that other place (which I’m not writing the name of cuz the guys here in the bar — many of’em vets — bet you can’t spell the name of the other place and are gonna get Meet the Press or something to challenge you to spell it, so I don’t wanna make it seem like I give you the spelling or anything. You’ll show’em. Just remember there’s a “H” after the “G” just like in the word “right” like in your politics.).
Anyways, so you give them the chance to risk life and limb for the good old USA and to be seen as heroes (all the things you never had the good luck to do or be back in the ‘Nam days), and what’s their reaction? Well, ingrates they are, they bitch and moan that they ain’t getting enough care from the VA for their missing arms or legs or both or that PTSD, whatever that is, maybe some Islamo-fascist code. Instead of holding up their stumps proudly and saluting you with them, all they do is whine, “They ain’t helping us enough.”
And then there’s that bunch that got big sign-up bonuses, some as much as 25-30 grand. Then they go and get hurt or killed over there in the war and can’t serve no more after only 2-3 weeks in action. And they or their families have the nerve to bitch and moan when you ask’em to give back the bonuses cuz they didn’t complete the contractual agreement they made. It’s probably enough to make you puke up your breakfast in the nice warm White House dining room with Laura and your dog.
Maybe what you oughta do, Mr. Prez, is toss all them ungrateful whiners down into Guantanamo and let’em rot there as traitors to you and your country which has done nothing but give them 2 good wars to fight in, like I said. I mean, what more could anybody ask of you? That’s a helluva legacy you’ll leave behind when you say, “Mission accomplished,” for the last time in ’09.
In the meantime, you just hang in there, Mr. B., and keep your wars cooking so as to keep ALL of us safe from terror. Except them damned veterans, of course. Looks like nothing could satisfy them.
Sincerely yours,
Jonathan Swift-boot