Do wusses eat quiche? [An email]

Dear Mr. Horrigan,

Your amusing piece in today’s Philadelphia Inquirer made me recall my teenage infatuation with a thirty-years-ago bestseller called Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche. I still occasionally quote from memory the line about real mean not saying, “It’s an unpretentious, fruity red with ambitious overtones of Bordeaux” about "a four-dollar bottle of Ripple.” Certainly this book would have agreed with most of your “objectively wussie" items. However, in perhaps contrarian fashion, the book did not agree that “real men drive stick.” It said the opposite, that “real men are secure enough to have their gears shifted automatically.” As a new driver at the time, I was happy for that one.

Sincerely,

Adam Block

A new year, 2011

I can see half a dozen fireworks from my rooftop at midnight. The city’s display at Penn’s just ended, and so would have been about 16 minutes, but other displays continued. I huddled under blankets in my jacket, and in that manner was not too cold. Last year, there was a cold rain, and I only watched for a couple of minutes.

I have made the new year’s resolutions to be in bed at midnight, and not to dawdle at the computer in the morning before showering, so as to be able to get to work a little earlier sometimes, or be less sleepy. Having written this, and on the perhaps specious reasoning that someone will read it at some point, I may be more likely to adhere to these plans. For good measure, I have also told people. It is past midnight now, but it is a weekend and a special circumstance, and exceptions are allowed for either. Still, I will resume, in bed, my reading shortly. I’ve read two books this year—last year—by Henning Mankell, The Man from Beijing and now Daniel—a followup, I’d assumed, but actually written ten years ago and just translated. I’m half way through, but it’s absorbing, and I’ll finish tomorrow.