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Happy weekend from the unknown cause of death department

This shot of my mom’s father in front of Honolulu’s Ilikai Hotel is undated, but I tell myself it’s one of the last photos taken of him before his death in Phoenix, in 1970. I like to think he went out partying. My grandmother always claimed he died of cirrhosis of the liver. My mom, as I recall, disputes this, . . .

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On seeing Twain’s (and Ives’) Is He Dead?

Once I dreamed that I met Mark Twain, and for a while I wanted to be Mark Twain, but it hadn’t occurred to me until earlier this year that I might see the first run of a Twain play — on Broadway. In Is He Dead?, the French painter Jean-François Millet is reimagined as a starving artist who’s in debt . . .

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Just say no

Join the effort: Help correct the unequal distribution of apologies.

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