I am in my writing room, procrastinating, having deserted my computer. It is three o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon and I am supposed to be working on my new memoir. Then a thought occurs to me and I break away, freed from distraction.  What was I doing there, cozied up on the couch? Reading. Being Mortal:…

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When was the last time you got a snail mail that wasn’t a bill, or brochure, or sales pitch for a better mortgage rate? How long ago was that last newsy letter from a friend, or personal condolence note rather than an electronic card? Or a hand-written thank you for a party you’ve spent time…

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