In Honor: DAVID HALBERSTAM
Today is Monday, 23 April 2007.
BREAK BREAK BREAK.
It is with the most profound sorrow, eyes filled with tears, that The Museum of the Bourgeois reports, recognizes, memorializes, and honors the death today, at 73, of David Halberstam.
Pulitzer winner, gritty-in-the-dirt reporter, author of perhaps the finest Vietnam War book, The Best and the Brightest, and perhaps the finest 9-11 book, Firehouse.
Personal Notes.
Only a handful of journalists meant as much to those of us who were Vietnam War draft resisters.
HH and his wife sometimes ate at the same Japanese restaurant in New York City as Halberstam. I would always give him a nod of the head, to let him know I knew who he was, but that I did not wish to invade his privacy.
Now I wish I had.
Ironies.
[I originally wrote Irony, then instantly corrected it, for DH would have noted that there were two ironies mentioned, and one must always be accurate.]
My wife and I had take-away sushi tonight for dinner.
To survive Nam and die in a car crash in California.
Coda.
Few times have I written the following, and had more sorrow for it:
---30---
BREAK BREAK BREAK.
It is with the most profound sorrow, eyes filled with tears, that The Museum of the Bourgeois reports, recognizes, memorializes, and honors the death today, at 73, of David Halberstam.
Pulitzer winner, gritty-in-the-dirt reporter, author of perhaps the finest Vietnam War book, The Best and the Brightest, and perhaps the finest 9-11 book, Firehouse.
Personal Notes.
Only a handful of journalists meant as much to those of us who were Vietnam War draft resisters.
HH and his wife sometimes ate at the same Japanese restaurant in New York City as Halberstam. I would always give him a nod of the head, to let him know I knew who he was, but that I did not wish to invade his privacy.
Now I wish I had.
Ironies.
[I originally wrote Irony, then instantly corrected it, for DH would have noted that there were two ironies mentioned, and one must always be accurate.]
My wife and I had take-away sushi tonight for dinner.
To survive Nam and die in a car crash in California.
Coda.
Few times have I written the following, and had more sorrow for it:
---30---
posted by HH at 9:01 PM
2 Comments:
What does ---30--- mean?
"---30---" is an old newspaper thing. Starting at some point, and for reasons someone out there may know, reporters wrote that at the end of copy, to indicate the end of a piece.
Seemed a very fitting conclusion.
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