The Post

On the weekend I went to visit dear friends, a couple who have been swept away by a tide of misfortune - and are fine. He was diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo radiation and chemo, and as he was beginning to recover, they discovered that their house had been contaminated by a flood of heating oil from a renovation being done poorly and cheaply next door. And then she broke her pelvis. They lived in a nursing home for awhile while they both got well and now are in a condo downtown; it will be many months, while the contaminated soil under their house is removed, before they can move back home. Not that long ago, all was hunkydory, and then all that slammed them. But they are remarkably resilient and cheerful, and the condo is lovely.

"But it's not home," he said.

Speaking of home, my reno is on. I've had the go-ahead from the bank and met with John and his architectural consultant friend, and we came up with a plan that looks great. It'll be excruciating and expensive and totally disruptive, I'll have to get rid of a ton of stuff and will end up with a bit more than half the house I have now - and that's as it should be. Now looking for a contractor. Please let me know if you have a lead.

Last night, the first class of the Ryerson term - it's always exciting to meet new people, and this time, to find 3 students from past terms back for more, including one from 5 years ago, a sports writer for the Star. And tomorrow night, my home class. The adventure begins.

Tonight, "The Post", how a brave newspaper printed leaked documents despite an injunction, and saved us from the deceitful American government. Wait - what year was that?! Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks, superb, but best of all, the smoky newsrooms with their clacking typewriters, lovingly recreated, and closeups of printing presses, oily metal machinery turning, typesetters at work with blocks of type - heaven. A free press could not matter more. A great film at just the right time. Thank you, Steven Spielberg.