Today I’m writing on my laptop, in my “Uncle Harry” chair, by the fireplace, with the dogs curled at my feet. Life doesn’t get much better than that, folks.
The chair is so named–it is a Morris style recliner, very comfortable–because it reminds me of the chair my beloved uncle, Harry Bleecker, always sat in to read his newspaper and drink his coffee. My mother’s eldest brother, Harry was a gentle soul with a broad Bleecker smile. Although he was tall and skinny, he always played Santa Claus at the church Christmas pageant in Northport, passing out little bags with… Read More »