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a black squirrel named Karl
Monday, October 29 2001
In the morning, Gretchen's parents had a brunch feast of bagels, various fish, and assorted cheeses delivered. A subset of the marriage crowd showed up, and we sat around eating, drinking and having light family conversation, my absolutely favorite kind. Then we went into the living room and watched Brian and Jen open a few of their wedding presents. There was a great deal of oohing and ahhing, even for horrendous examples of folksy family-friendly craftpieces, an unfortunate byproduct of any marriage. There's a whole industry devoted to making things that no one wants that are instead bought and given to others.
Gretchen and I were heading back to Brooklyn today, and as I was loading up Gretchen's rental car, I saw a black squirrel building a nest in a tree out in front. He kept gathering individual leaves, most of them from a sugar maple that were brightly-colored yellow or red. I showed the squirrel to Gretchen's mother and she immediately named it Karl, in honor of me.
Among the many things we loaded into the car were the three boxes I'd shipped to Gretchen's parents' house before leaving Los Angeles. Gretchen also snagged six bottles of wine and a great variety of leftover food.
Gretchen did the driving and we made frighteningly good time back to Brooklyn, taking a little over three hours. Along the way, I noticed that nearly every bridge over the interstate was decorated with some sort of patriotic symbol. Many of these were handmade, including flags with tiny blue fields and oversized striped sections.
Back at the house, I immediately began my workday, which continued on and off well into the evening.
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