I’m pleased to learn that my prolific old friend Michael Sims has a new book out, on Conan Doyle’s Holmes, and another in the oven on Darwin. He just keeps popping them out. We worked together at the old Mills Bookstore in Hillsboro Village, now long gone, where he told me about growing up among incurious people in the least-bookish rural Tennessee enclave imaginable. His authorial achievement is impressive, and against that background heroic.
And speaking of Darwin, this is the anniversary of the first presentation (in 1858) to a popular audience of the world-shaking evolutionary vision he’d been sitting on for over twenty years. The Almanac describes his quiet life among family and dogs and pigeons in Kent as monkish, “with specific times each day for walking, napping, reading, and backgammon.” Well, not many monks have such an impact. None can boast of having hatched the best idea ever.
Got out to only my second Sounds game of the season last night, another Dodgers game (OK City this time). The hometeam sported their “throwback” unis, from the era when I first saw them. My game companion, like me, is also of that era. We agreed that the between-innings music selections, ’80s schlock mostly, didn’t throw back far enough, not even to 1979. Remember “The Logical Song” and “My Sharona”? Probably not.
6 am/5:36, 65/89, 8:06
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