neighbors

Last night as I walked up my driveway after walking the dogs, our neighbor, Doug, saw me and invited S. and me over to help celebrate their son's fourth birthday party. So I came in the house, asked S. to go find a suitable Star Wars gift for little David, and we went to join the fun. S.: Will there be cake?

Helping our friends celebrate was a couple who'd lived in Illinois all their lives. S. was asking them about their lives, where they lived, what they did, etc. They all three--S. and this new couple--work at State Farm. And he asked me, "Are you at the Farm, too?" No, I said, I'm at Illinois State. Someone else hears me and asks what I teach. English, I say.

And instead of making a remark about being careful about their grammar, Kevin asked me if I was there when David Foster Wallace was there. No, I said, but I've heard wonderful things about him. I haven't had a chance to read much of his work, but I know he's terrific. My friend Julie sat in on a creative nonfiction course with him when he was here.

And we talked about him for a while. And we had cake and went back home to feed the girls. Watched a movie (Smart People) and then when I went to turn off the computer for the night, I read the news. David Foster Wallace had hanged himself. I can't really process this; I'm stuck instead on the fact that his wife found him. Incredibly sad.