Harry got rest and consumed live cultures. He bought and read the newspaper and supported public television. He biked into town, he swam at the health club. When he began balding Harry took it in stride. Harry kept up the piano and was teaching himself how to play his grandfather's banjo. He went to church when he felt lost and kept his thoughts in a journal. Harry looked at the weather, he looked at thread counts, he looked at women on the street and looked away quickly. Harry gave his house a stiff cleaning every month and a good once-over every other week. He believed in feng shui, natural light, and a balance to things. Harry held strong views and changed them when the facts said to. He called his parents, he brought reusable bags, he had a small collection of French movie posters. When seasons changed he put away one wardrobe and took out another. When there were massacres he cried. He went to the beach alone and to the bar with friends. And as they paired off two by two, Harry walked home gracefully. Waiting for him would be two Advil, a glass of water, and a big not quite big enough for two but more than enough for one.
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